#l corrales

[celestialdusks]

Tangled Web [a short story]

⇢ what starts off as a mission turns into something much more... oh, and there are cookies. 

Happy birthday, L! The first birthday celebrations for the characters of this wip.

L is very much an interesting and complex character with a whole load of layers to uncover, here you'll get to see their sweet, worried, confident and selfless side. They just need a little bit of love every now and then—and in the end, it'll be worth it.

I hope you enjoy this. Please tell me what you think. 

•

L huffs. “This feels like a stake out.”

“That’s because this is a stake out,” you murmur back, turning to L as your hand slips from the steering wheel. 

Their lips purse together, a hand goes over their curls. They watch the rain droplets race each other on the car window before glancing back over at you. 

“Is this a good time to mention that I find stake outs incredibly boring?” L drones when their eyes fixate to the large building complex in front of you. 

You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Why? Did you think it’d be all guns, and tasers, and running for our lives?” 

L goes serious for a moment. “We’re trying to take down the Order, we’re already doing the latter.” They’re right, you can’t deny it, and the fact that L’s admitted shows that this isn’t going to be an easy feat. “But I didn’t think we’d be hanging around a building all night waiting for…” L arches a brow. “What are we waiting for exactly?”

“Piper,” you answer.

“And we’ve been here how long?”

“A few hours.”

The sound of a seat belt unbuckling gets your attention. “Well, the stake out tactic clearly isn’t working.” L opens the car door after they say that.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

L slips out of the vehicle, places their hand on top of the car and crouches down a little to talk to you. “Being proactive,” they respond with ease. 

You had known what you were getting with L, they’re confident, probably full of themselves, a bit of a nightmare at times — this being one of those nightmares — but them being proactive can also be seen as reckless. But it could be exactly what you need.

“We can’t just storm in there.”

L doesn’t even stop themselves rolling their eyes, they glance to the building before their eyes fall on you. “We’re the ones that found the Order’s second headquarters, and I’ll be damned if we have to spend another minute watching out for the people that are blackmailing us. I might as well just go in there and see what they’ve got on us, or what they’ve got to hide.” 

They don’t bother closing the passenger door, they just leave and stride towards the back entrance. You groan, unbuckle your belt and open your own door. 

“L, I’m not going in there just to save your ass.” 

You hear them chuckle at that. They twist on their heels with ease and give you a nonchalant shrug. “I’m wounded, surely I’ll be the one saving you. I bet you’re glad I’m not your initiate anymore, huh?”

It’s not like L’s initiation was ever going to last long, a week tops just to show them the ropes. L’s an exceptional asset, there’s no denying that… but you also can’t leave them to wander in ‘enemy’ territory on their own — and considering they haven’t looked back once, you know that they have no thought than to head into a metaphorical burning building. 

You leave the car and lock it behind you before jogging up to the entrance L went through. The building is far from being the headquarters you and the others first visited, this one is less grand, so much more industrial and silent, a little dimly lit too so when a flashlight immediately shines in your direction, you know there’s an issue. 

Being skilled is one of the best attributes you have, but even so, you know you aren’t able to move your feet quickly enough to get out of the guard’s path. You’re sure he’s going to spot you, and you’re sure that you’ll either have to fight your way out or charm him into letting you go — neither will be easy. 

As you try to plan your next move as the guard’s footsteps approach, you feel a hand grab yours and pull you in. You barely let out a gasp, and you’re ready to protect yourself until your eyes connect with L’s. Warmth and relief washes over you. Their hand stays over yours whilst their free one puts a finger to their lips to tell you to stay quiet. 

You do. 

The two of you are stuck in a tight, out of sight corner, listening for the guard’s footsteps to quieten before you proceed on. 

All there is to look at is L. The most you can do is hold your breath, let your eyes flit over their features as you take in each one. The dust of freckles scattered over their face that they usually cover with make-up, if the situation you were in was any different, you’d probably question them on that insecurity. Their light brown eyes lock with yours, and knowing L, they’d usually come out with a fun remark — but the look on their face is as serious as ever. 

Their eyes close for a brief moment as the guard’s footsteps get louder. They brace themselves for your hiding spot to be revealed, and L knows that if it was, they’d take the blame in an instant — but then the footsteps start to quieten. The guard is gone. 

L opens their eyes, lets out a breath, and you watch as their gaze softens when they look at you. “Told you I’d be saving you,” they whisper teasingly.

•

You eventually find an office, and you know it’s the right one considering the plaque has Piper’s name written on it. You and L step in, you flick on the light switch and turn to them. “I guess we’ll see what we find.” L nods and approaches Piper’s desk first, you opt for the laptop on the side. You groan a little because of course it’s password protected, Piper’s not stupid enough to leave electronics hanging around with no protection. 

You look around at the rest of the side table: the pen holder, a leather jacket on the hook above it, a picture of what looks like a young Piper and an older woman — from your first meeting with her, you’d think she didn’t have a heart, but from that picture alone, you could be swayed in a different direction. 

“Hey,” L mutters out, “come look at this.”

You twist around and saunter over. “You find something?”

You notice that L has a stack of files in their hand, they place them on the desk and slide one over to you first. You lean your head down and see that it has your brother’s name written on the front. With pursed lips, you brush your index finger over it before glancing back up. 

“What do you think is in it?” you ask, almost ready to flip the front cover.

“I’m not sure,” L answers, “but don’t open it here, it might trigger an alarm, an alert, anything. It’s better we take it with us.”

You give a nod and glance down at the other file that’s on the table. It reads L Corrales. 

“Are you going to take yours too?” 

L sniffs, drums their fingers on the file and shakes their head. There’s a small frown on their lips, as though they are deep in their own thoughts. “She’ll know we’ve been here if more than one is missing. Take your brother’s.”

It’s a selfless act from L. More than selfless. So much so that you almost reach out to them and ask them what’s wrong because the look on their face is far from their usual carefree attitude. 

“It could be important, L.” You swallow hard glancing between them and the file. “Detrimental, even.”

L opens the drawer and drops their file back in there. They clear their throat. “I’ve buried my past a lot, the good parts, the bad ones, the really fucked up shit that I never want to remember. It’s all there, but buried.” They slide the draw closed. “I don’t tell people that. And I don’t know if I’m saying this because we’re friends, or we’re close, or because I trust you.” 

L sucks in a breath before their ramble continues. “Or whether all of that is bullshit and I mean nothing to you, and it’s just because we’re deep in this situation. But whatever Piper thinks she has on me, she would’ve gone through a whole heap to get it. For now, I can live without knowing what she wants to blackmail me with.” They point to the file in my hand. “That’s your family, and family’s important.” The last of their words come out in a whisper, and they mask the pain in their voice with a soft smile. You’re almost unsure of what to say. 

“That’s— I…” you begin, the words stuck in your throat. 

L shakes their head. “It’s fine. Truly.” The witty remark, the sarcastic one, the confident one — it still hasn’t come from them. “We should get out of here.”

The two of you go towards the door, leave the office and close the door behind you. 

“You two! Stop there!” a guard screams from across the corridor. 

Your grip on the file tightens that bit more as you turn to L. “Run.” 

•

You’re back at your apartment building, and to be specific, you’re at L’s place. They’re in the kitchen, you’re leaning on the kitchen island whilst they open the oven. “I’ve always been a fan of baked midnight snacks, well, early morning ones now considering the time.”

They transfer the fresh cookies onto a plate, it’s done with such grace that you realise tonight, you’ve discovered a whole other side of L. They place the plate of cookies in front of you. 

“When they cool, I’ll be offended if you don’t try one,” they say. 

You snort. “I can’t come to someone’s house and offend them.” Silence engulfs the two of you, the same way it did on the car ride home. L didn’t say a word, and you were too concentrated on getting out of there and making sure no one was following you. But you can feel something between you and L, something unsaid, something lingering in the air.

“L,” you murmur. 

They swallow hard. “We don’t have to talk about what I said.” 

“I feel like we should.” We’re friends, or we’re close, or because I trust you. Or whether all of that is bullshit and I mean nothing to you. “You don’t mean nothing to me.” 

They scoff a little. “Anndd you don’t have to tell me that because you’re pitying me right now.”

“I’m not,” you whisper. “You’re—”

“I can’t do this tonight,” L interjects, “I can’t think about the fact that Piper has that heavy file on me, I can’t think about the past, I can’t think about letting people down.” They sigh. “And I can’t… wonder about how you feel about me, or how I feel about you because I don’t want to put you in a bad headspace, or ruin whatever small thing we’ve got.” 

You swiftly move to stand across from them. “You’re not ruining anything.”

L instinctively goes to reach out for your hand, their fingers brush yours. “We’ve been through a lot. When we’ve eaten cookies, and slept, and all the adrenaline wears off we’ll… I don’t know, talk properly about whatever topic you want.”

“About us,” you whisper.

L smiles at that, one that dances over their lips and makes their face sparkle, makes their freckles look like sweet constellations. “Us.” They take a step back, as though they’re stopping themselves from indulging. “I mean it. I’m not going to kiss you and do something one of us might regret later on.”

“You’d regret kissing me?” you question with an arched brow.

L picks up one of the cookies and pops a piece in their mouth. “I’d regret kissing you if I knew it wasn’t going to lead to an us.” They slide the plate of cookies nearer to you before slipping past you to exit the kitchen. “So, like I said, sleep on it. There’s no pressure, or anything. I promise.”

L leaves after that. All you can do is sigh, pick up a cookie and take a bite of the delicious treat. All in the span of a few hours you’ve gotten another piece of information about your brother. And after all of that, you almost sorted out the tangled web of feelings between you and L.

Almost.

[22plus15]

ona & lucy w/ the girlies via vicky's ig 🫶

[redbean-nom]

imagine if, when they're still too little to cause Large Scale Chaos (mostly of the explosive type)

they hire Boba to go cause problems on their four-year-old-behalf

(also. are their body doubles fives and echo. because bigger twins.)

Hey I love Soft Wars so much and I'm wondering do you have anything of Anakin and/or Padme with their kids?

As far as I can remember we only see them together when they're babies and thinking of Anakin getting the run around by his Vode trained preteen/teen kids makes me laugh.

You are so right that would be SO hilarious. Kids are crafty enough already without also having the Force to help them get into messes. I imagine wherever Obi-Wan is, Anakin still has direct comms with him because it would amuse me greatly for Anakin to be calling his old master going "PLEASE tell me I was never this bad!" While Obi-Wan makes a gleeful "Now suffer" face. Why did Anakin's children crash his speeder into a pond? Is "because Luke bet he could pull it out with his brain and he DID but then he dropped it again" an actual answer? Why is everyone Leia dislikes suddenly simultaneously under investigation for Sptax Fraud? Why do Padme's children hire "body doubles" when they want to sneak out of an event? WHY don't they bother hiring "body doubles" that look anything like them? Do Padme and Anakin deserve this?

(Yes.)

[hedgehog-moss]

Update on the French protests: we've had a well-known expert in contemporary political history call the situation we're in "the worst democracy crisis France has known since [the end of the 4th Republic]" and meanwhile the government is trying its hardest to maintain a façade of normal functioning by a) hiding from protesters, b) hiding protesters from view, and c) banning saucepans and other means of drawing attention to the protests that are being swept under the rug.

I mean casserolades are an old tradition in this country but they wouldn't have been needed if Macron &co hadn't started almost systematically banning protests in entire districts of the towns they visit and setting up police roadblocks to prevent peaceful protesters from going anywhere near them. (Too bad because these are the kinds of images the media get (these 2 are from Le Monde) when protesters get to talk to Macron <3) :

Protesters corralled away where they can be easily ignored started banging pots and pans so the protest could at least be heard in the background of TV footage, and then pans started being confiscated.

French courts have repeatedly struck down the bans as illegal but police prefects keep churning new bans out every time Macron goes somewhere anyway, trying to publish them at the last minute so there's no time for a judicial review. (I saw a sign at a protest last week that went "Stop with all the bans we no longer have time to disobey all of them")

After boldly banning saucepans by calling them "portable sonorous devices" last week, today a police prefecture banned "festive gatherings of a musical nature" in a town Macron will be visiting tomorrow. They're (ab)using counter-terrorist legislation for all this, so these days we get to read unheard-of court rulings that go like "We are suspending this prefectural decree as we do not consider festive gatherings of a musical nature to pose a significant terrorist threat to the President."

If Macron had people showing up in support I don't think we would see so many pissy protest bans because then the media could show backers vs. opponents and things would look normal (and not like 70% of the country is very pissed off with Macron). But there's not much for them to show if they don't show the angry people banging pans and it clearly rankles Macron—we learnt yesterday that he sent a letter to 200,000 political supporters of his essentially ordering them to start making appearances all over the country, to show they are "proud of what you are and of what our country has become [since I got elected]." That seems a bit desperate.

For months Macron &co have been predicting that people would get tired of taking to the streets in large numbers, and now that people are going like—right, let's try a new strategy, small local protests greeting gov members everywhere they go!—we're hearing a clear "no not like that, that's not what we meant :l " reaction from the government.

They've also been trying the strategy of announcing stuff at the last minute, like on Monday the Minister of Education announced at noon that he would visit a higher learning institution in Lyon 2 hours later, and a hundred of protesters still showed up and tried to force their way into the building. They were held off by cops using tear gas and trying to block entrances (there's a pic that made me smile, showing cops trying to barricade university gates with garbage bins—how the tables have turned...!) and the Minister ended up not showing up and moving on to the next step of his schedule (protesters tried to follow him there but police vans were blocking the street.)

The first half of the video is at the uni in Lyon; the second half is in Paris later that day. When he returned to Paris the Minister was greeted by protesters with saucepans at the train station, it's like a national relay race of protesting at times. He had to go back through the train to leave via the other end of the platform under police escort so as not to meet any protesters (god forbid).

Macron commented that this was "uncivic" behaviour and I agree, civic behaviour on the part of gov members would be to at least face the people they choose to fuck over, instead of hiding behind cops and fleeing. Obviously Macron was condemning the 'uncivic' protesters though, and the Minister said he felt "physically threatened" by the "violence of [the protesters'] speech" which is a shit thing to say considering on the same day that he was mildly inconvenienced by having to take a different exit and felt physically endangered by words, yet another protester was mutilated after being shot at by police with a rubber bullet. Not a peep about this incident (or previous ones) from the government. The Minister of Education never even condemned that time high schoolers trying to protest got tear gassed and threatened with riot guns by cops in front of their school earlier this month.

But while people continue protesting despite the actual violence from cops, our ministers are looking pretty scared of citizens banging pots and pans. Here's a list of official visits that got cancelled "for safety reasons" (saucepan terrorism) in the past week:

1. Minister P. NDiaye cancelled a visit in Lyon 2. Minister F. Braun cancelled a visit to Evrard Hospital 3. Minister Delegate O. Klein cancelled a visit in Bobigny 4. Minister Delegate O. Grégoire cancelled a visit in La Baule 5. Minister S. Guerini cancelled a visit in Castelnau 6. Secretary of State B. Couillard cancelled a visit in Rochefort 7. Minister S. Retailleau cancelled a visit to the Paris Saclay University (electricity trade unionists cut the power in the building she was supposed to inaugurate, so) 8. Minister C. Grandjean cancelled a visit in Toulouse (this article says it was probably because the visit was quite near a big highway protest where protesters among other things were building a concrete wall on a national road)

In the same bullshitting vein as "portable sonorous devices", gov spokespeople have been insisting that visits aren't being cancelled, ministers are just "adjusting the course of their trips" which is funny to me. I guess we never beheaded any royalty we just adjusted the course of their necks. I also read a newspaper article that made me laugh, that went like "Minister cancels visit; trade unions disappointed" and I thought it was because the cancelled visit was a meeting with the unions which they wouldn't get to have, but the article said it was actually because they had a good protest planned and wouldn't get to hold it...

Watching protesters mess with the government in small ways on a daily basis has been good for morale—on Twitter the hashtags #IntervillesMacron and #IntervillesduZbeul popped up (zbeul = chaos, mess, and Intervilles was a TV game show that aired for over 50 years, where French cities competed against one another in goofy challenges). I only mentioned cancellations above, but fun things also happen on non-cancelled government visits, like a Minister having to leave a building via the emergency exit because of protesters blocking the building entrance (which some people argued is worth more points than a cancellation as it's more entertaining):

Various websites were created to keep track of all these smaller protests and to officialise the point system that ranks cities on their efforts to fuck with the government:

(the first symbol means a protest, the second means a casserolade, the last one means protesters managed to get inside a building where a visit was taking place)

(Translation: Ruckus (saucepans, heckling...) 1pt Protest: 1pt Creative action (chasing minister in the woods, etc): 2pts Measures of energy conservation (= power cuts by unions) 3pts Action that leads to a political figure fleeing: 4pts Cancellation of a visit: 5pts — then there's a weighting system where the score is multiplied by 3 if it's a Minister, by 5 if it's the Prime Minister, by 6 if it's Macron.) (I also saw an interesting debate on Twitter this week—since our leaders often embarrass themselves, how should the government's own goals fit into the point system?)

Right now the Hérault department is winning because on top of protests, power cuts and casserolades, protesters greeted Macron with a giant "MACRON FUCK OFF" sign hung from a cliff (!) and took over a highway display so it'd say "Welcome to [region] Butthole Ist"

These past few days I've been discovering unknown French cities (and Ministers) thanks to them showing up in the hashtag after a good protest. I discovered a mediaeval castle I'd never heard of when unions hung banners featuring our most famous revolutionary dates from the castle's battlements. (Two days later, another protest with eloquent banners in the Musée d'Orsay in Paris:)

People are very creative—last week we heard that protesters got prosecuted for giving Macron the finger and insulting him during one of his official visits (< we are a healthy democracy), so protesters in another region tried a more sarcastic approach, and greeted a deputy from Macron's party at a strawberry fair this week with clapping and confetti and "Thank you for making us work 2 more years, thank you for police repression, thank you!" The deputy beat a hasty retreat. Then said he would file a complaint against the harassment and intimidation he had been subjected to. (The tear gas and riot guns and arrests and protest bans are not intimidation of protesters on the other hand. Or the fact that another deputy from his party recently said on TV that they were "ready for war"... They're ready to wage war, but run and hide when people clang saucepans and throw confetti.)

Anyway. I'm enjoying the fact that they can't even attend a small strawberry fair without getting heckled right now. In one of my first posts about the political crisis in March I wrote something like "How will Macron and his gov have any legitimacy to speak about any issues after this?" and it cheers me up to see a lot of people across the country agree that they have no legitimacy to talk about anything, not even the strawberry harvest.

The next nationwide protest is of course for May 1st, but in the meantime it's been really fun following the smaller protest actions all over the place. Members of government & Macron's party keep making whiny statements along the lines of this is terrorist behaviour, we can't go anywhere, why are people not getting tired of fucking with us and the answer is, because it's really entertaining!

This was the last sentence of a recent Le Monde article about Macron's situation and it has such a sinister, end-of-reign tone:

"I'm moving forward," Macron concluded, on April 20th in the Herault department, while behind his back echoed the sound of saucepans.

[01zfan]

stealer | l. at

office worker!anton x office worker!reader | 2.9k words

a little repost because i am a chronic post deleter. added a little bit more to this too just because.

contains: secret workplace romance, panty stealer/sniffer anton, suggestive (???)

Anton walked through the maze of cubicles calmly. His dress shoes made a dull sound against the carpeting that lined the office floors. He was making his way to the shared kitchen, where the trusted old coffee pot had a cup just for him. After his cup of milky white and sweet coffee he would be okay. He just had to make it there first.

His eyes that were pointed forward suddenly casted down when he passed by the cubicle right around the bend. Sweat instantly lined his palms as he felt the intense stare follow his frame. He couldn’t leave the area of the cubicle fast enough in his effort of appearing nonchalant. He failed so severely at being calm that when the sound of an office chair rolled across the carpet Anton stumbled forward. His gait faltered and the sound of typing ceased for a second before everyone went back to their screens. Anton cleared his throat and looked downwards before continuing his trek to the kitchen. 

He almost tripped over his feet at the sudden change in pace. He felt like he was being hunted. He couldn’t hide in the men’s bathroom on the other side of the office, he couldn’t turn back to his desk without seeming crazy to his coworkers. He had no choice but to continue walking right into the trapped space of the kitchen.

For a second Anton felt relief. Sohee was already in the kitchen, warming up his breakfast like he always did. Anton shared a grateful hello with his friend, but as soon as relief washed over him panic won again. Sohee grumbled about a task dur before lunch and that he would have to eat at his desk. The same time Sohee left the sound of heels clicking across the threshold of the doorframe corralled Anton to the corner where the coffee pot sat.

Even when he was cornered like a wild animal he still tried maintaining composure, grabbing the pot with a shaking hand and pouring it into his designated cup. When he left enough room for the extra cream and extra sugars the heels ceased. Now in his fixed view of the ground he could see your feet too, standing next to his. 

He said nothing. He knew what was coming as he felt sweat line his lower back.

“Did you steal a pair of my underwear?”

You asked the question casually, leaned against the counter of the break room. You should’ve looked at your nails when asking the question to really drive the point home that you were unbothered. But you would’ve missed the chance to see Anton’s full body freeze, completely forgetting he was making a sickly sweet concoction out of his morning coffee. 

Almost a minute passed before Anton came back to life. He had a full system reboot, looking past you to double check that the break room was completely empty. He also made an attempt to seem nonchalant, but it crumbled when he realized the rest of his sugars were on the counter past your body. You saw Anton’s eyes wander to your waist that was leaned next to his sugar packets, you could see the little hamster in Anton’s mind trying to find a way out of this situation. You only pressed further, leaning towards him causing him to slightly lean back.

“Did you really steal another pair?” You emphasized your words this time and spoke in a low voice to show Anton how shocked you were. “I’m disappointed Anton. Really.” You said.

You smiled to yourself seeing his red neck and his Adam’s apple bob from nervousness. His necktie seemed too tight around his neck. If you were in a more private place you would’ve played with the solid navy tie, maybe even pull at the end until Anton stumbled forward. When he let his head hang forward to shake it you could see the tips of his ears become bright crimson.

“I didn’t steal it.” He answered meekly.

Anton stopped looking at the hand on your hip and went to his milky white cup of coffee instead. It would be unbelievably bitter without the sugars next to your body, but he would just have to deal with it. He needs to get back to the safety of his cubicle soon and as far away from you as he possibly could. But you only got closer, the sound of your dress shoes clacked against the linoleum floor as you took a step forward.

“Are you sure?” Anton nodded his head the same time you tilted yours in confusion. “You know what pair I’m talking about though, right?”

Anton knew exactly what pair you were talking about. The lacy black pair with the tiny bow on the thin waistband in front and the very low cut in the back. You never wore the pair to bed, but you often wore it with low rise pants or tights because you could never see the panty line from the back. The pair hugged your ass perfectly, forming to your shape like a lacy second skin. Anton remembers the first time you showed him the pair, pulling up his hoodie and doing a little twirl to show the back and the front. He remembers the tense feeling in his jaw when he saw the fabric disappear between your ass cheeks and the stern look on your face when you told him he couldn’t rip this pair. 

Anton also remembers hearing you tell him it was your favorite. No wonder you were looking for them. 

They were right next to your pillow this morning, still balled up and still wet from the impromptu gag Anton begged for the night prior. The pair was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, a burning reminder of the position you had him in yesterday. He barely remembered when you pulled the pair from his mouth after you two were done; it was hard to remember anything when Anton realized how perfectly the pair fit in his hand. 

Anton developed an inexplicable liking for your panties. The very first time he ever got a smell was when he went down on you. Instead of pulling your panties to the side he was drawn in, pressing his nose deep into the cotton as you writhed from the tip of his nose prodding your slit. Anyon was tempted to lave his tongue over the part that covered your cunt, you were already seeping through the fabric when you pushed your panties to the side. 

Your full body shivered at the cool air of your room and Anton shook at the musky scent of you and the heat coming off in waves. 

After the first taste he was hooked. When Anton looked at your hands impatiently tapping the surface of the counter he was taken back to you opening his mouth by squeezing both sides of his face. Your prodding fingers smushed his cheeks and pried between his jaw causing his mouth to open. Anton was already weak from feeling you on top of him, he was no match against your greedy fingers. The second his plump lips parted he felt the intrusion of the damp cotton, stuffed into his mouth by your index and middle finger of your other hand. He groaned around the fabric and whimpered when you bounced on his dick faster than before. When he gathered the strength to open his eyes he saw you smiling at your handy work. 

“Since you like to smell them so much I bet you’ll eat them too?”

Of course he would. He would swallow them whole if he could. That’s why Anton couldn’t stop himself from taking the pair while you were still sleeping. The first taste was sitting in the locked drawer of his desk currently. It was perverse, it felt like he was committing a crime when he brought the pair close to his face before taking in a deep breath. But Anton couldn’t resist slipping the pair in his pants or balling it up in his fist when he reminisced on the night before. He was a strong man, but when it came to having any part of you at his disposal he was weak. What he had in mind for your pair of panties tonight was too good to pass up. So he hurriedly plucked the pair from your bed before kissing your forehead and walking out your door. He swore the smell lingered in the air now, the smell of coffee was replaced with the sweet smell of you. Each time Anton blinked he saw the pair in his desk, balled up atop his manilla folder and files.

“The black pair, right?” Anton asked.

He made the mistake of looking you in the eye again. You saw right through him, he knew it. But he still played dumb, trying his best to forget what he did hours prior before leaving your apartment.

“I was looking for them this morning after you left and I just couldn’t find them anywhere.” You said.

Anton shrugged his shoulders and you shrugged yours the same way mockingly. There was silence between the two of you for a moment, and Anton could see the knowing smile spread across your face. He quickly let out a breath of annoyance and rolled his eyes. Maybe indignation could distract you from the fact that he can’t lie to you and he could blame the blush on his face form being asked such a personally question at work instead of being caught red-handed while trying to make his morning coffee.

“Why do you think I always,” Anton looked around the break room again to make sure you two were still alone. “steal your underwear?” He said, lowering his voice.

“Remember that cute pink pair I had?” You spoke at a normal volume, you even took the extra step to take your hand from your hip to point at your lower stomach “With the red heart on the front?” You asked.

The answer to your question was Yes, how could I forget? It was the pair I bought you. But Anton was stunned to silence. He knew where you were going with your line of questioning before you parted your lips to speak again.

“The pair I found underneath your pillow, remember?” You looked at the sugar packets on the counter and mindlessly started messing with them. “Or the red pair that was all balled up in the top drawer of your dresser? Now that one was still kind of—”

“Stop.” Anton said quickly.

He admittedly had the habit of keeping them in various places. Once you opened up the glove compartment of his car and your green thong tumbled out. One time it was the sky blue pair hanging off the corner of his home office computer, like it was motivation for him to turn in a work assignment. There was also the one time you found a pair in the pocket of his sweats. Each time you would grab the pair dramatically with the tips of your fingers, holding it up to his view like it was evidence. Anton would always see the verdict of the evidence on your lips and the wideness of your eyes. 

He knew he was sick. He knew he was perverse and he knew you knew it too; but something arguably even more disgusting inside of Anton was happy about it. Arguably being a thief was better than whatever Anton was, but he genuinely believed if the title fell from your lips he’d wear it proudly. He’d put it right next to his ID badge, maybe even a pin right next to the pronouns on his lanyard. Pervert/Freak written in big bold letters in your handwriting. A trophy on his desk that read #1 Panty Stealer. Sometimes late at night when you weren’t with him and Anton had a pair covering his eyes and another wrapped around his dick he could see the words fall so clearly on your lips. He could see the disgust in your eyes like a vision, feel the red hot embarrassment wash over him like it was happening in real life. He imagined you’d even take it a step further, not stopping until he pitifully shook his head and told you with a shaking voice that it wasn’t true. 

Even now with the little bit of teasing Anton felt that sick thrill all around his body. He admittedly left your apartment in a hurry this morning, not realizing he slept through his alarm. He barely had enough time to go home and change to proper office attire before driving all the way back to work. He felt off center this whole day, and the teasing he’d usually be able to rebuff was making sweat line his back and make himself uncomfortable in his slacks. The longer you kept an unfaltering look on him the harder it was for him to focus. He prayed that his partially turned body hid what he didn’t want you to see—atleast not here. 

Just when Anton thought the tension was going to eat him alive, someone came into the break room. Eunseok had his headphones on, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder at Anton and you leaned against the counter hogging up the coffee machine. Anton looked to him quickly before snapping his vision away. Eunseok did his best to ignore the panicked look and did everything in his power to not read the room. He was focused on his lunchbox in the refrigerator and that’s it. He didn’t even want to stick around to microwave his food, he doesn’t mind cold sandwiches. He was in and out, not even bothering to exchange a friendly greeting.

When Eunseok left, Anton knew it was time to admit defeat. He had a report to get back to and the remaining bits of his pride to salvage. So When you cocked your hip to the side waiting for an answer Anton let out a deep sigh.

“Do you want them back?” Anton asked quietly. 

He thought about your pair in the locked cabinet of his work desk. He wondered if you knew the exact whereabouts of this particular pair. He wondered what type of reaction it’d illicit if he walked you to his cubicle while his team was out for lunch and opened up the locked cabinet for you. Would your eyes widen the same way they did the first time realizing how far Anton went? Would you tell HR? Would you finally tell Anton what he so desperately wanted to hear?

You only smiled sweetly before ripping the sugar packets and pouring it into Anton’s ceramic cup.

“Bring them by my place after work.” You answered.

You reached forward and brushed a piece of his hair out of his eye. You tilted your head affectionately before leaning in close. Anton swore he was going to hear the words fall from your lips when your hand went to cradle his warm cheek. He even closed his eyes in preparation to see it, not wanting to miss a single second. But you only took your hand away and turned on your heel before leaving the break room completely. 

There was no way he was going to make it back to his desk.

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

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

-

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Here goes nothing and everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However. 

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

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

It’s weird to say it. 

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

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

“Oh, god.”

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

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

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

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

Because they are still the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

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

And you’re going to.

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

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

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

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

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

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

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

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

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

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

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

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

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

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

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

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

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

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

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

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

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

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

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

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

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

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

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

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

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

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

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why should I.”

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

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

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

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

“…So it’s like that?”

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

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

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

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

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

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

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

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

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

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

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

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

“Trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You loved me?”

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

“What?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

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

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

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

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

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

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

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

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He said he still loves me.”

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

“Dom…”

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

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

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

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

“I know.”

“Now.”

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

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

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

“What do I have now.”

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

Huh?

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

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

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

“K.”

Wait, what.

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

His name is molasses on your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s true.” 

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

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

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

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

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

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

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

If you didn’t have to wait. 

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

But why does he seem so—

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

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

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

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

Huh.

What does he mean by—

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

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

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

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

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

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

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

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

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

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

“Doll, let me know because—”

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

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

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

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

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

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

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

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

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

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

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

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

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

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

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

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

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

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

A plate. A bowl after that. 

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

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

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

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

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

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

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

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

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

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

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

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

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

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

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

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

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

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

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

Silence. 

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

“I always worry.” 

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

Shit, that was close. 

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

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

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

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

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

An apology.

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

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

This can’t be it. 

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

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

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

“…Oh.”

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

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

What the hell happened after he left your room?

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

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

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

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

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

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

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

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

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

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

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

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

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, really.”

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

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

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

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

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

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

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

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

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

…Is he paying loans? 

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

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

“So were you.”

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

“It’s whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

“I like it here, though.”

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

“Empty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

And regret others. 

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

“All the time.” 

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

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

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

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

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

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

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

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

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

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

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

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

…Calling should be okay, right?

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

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

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

Fuck. 

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

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

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

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

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

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

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

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

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

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

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

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

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

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

Ah. No finish line in sight.

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

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

“When you get it.”

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

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

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

“See? Claiming shit already.”

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

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

“Just work stuff.”

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

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

“What.”

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

“…I see.”

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

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

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

“Not at you, doll.”

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

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

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

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

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

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

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

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

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

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

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

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

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

“Wait—” 

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

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

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

Yoongi: Missed Call

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

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

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

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

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

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

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

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

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

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

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

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

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s Jimin?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

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

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

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

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

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

“That’s good, at least.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

“Mm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. “Me? How?” 

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

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

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

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

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

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

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

“Mmk.” 

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

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

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

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

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

“You can definitely be upset.” 

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

Only warmth. And understanding. 

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

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

Him? Being more upset than you?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

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

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

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

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

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

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

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

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

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“So?”

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

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

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

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

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

“Go get it, doll.”

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

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

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

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

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

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

“K. Have fun!”

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

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

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

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

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

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

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

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

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

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

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

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

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

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

Painful.

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

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

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

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

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

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

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

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

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

You can’t.

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

Your finger moves a bit closer.

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

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

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

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

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

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

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

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

“Hello?”

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

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

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

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

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

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

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

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

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

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

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

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

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

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

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

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

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

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

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

And your chest has never felt lighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hustler.”

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

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

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

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

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the smartass.”

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

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

“I just… You read.” 

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

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

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

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

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

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

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

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

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

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

And you glitch when you realize why.

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

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

Way too familiar.

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

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

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

Almost everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

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

“Stop.” 

You do. 

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

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

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“The fuck.”

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Are you su—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

“So fucking filthy...” 

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

“Don’t do that.” 

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

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

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking perfect.” 

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

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

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

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

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

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

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

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

“Uh uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly.

He stops. 

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

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

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

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

And again.

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

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

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

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

“Then fucking beg.” 

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

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

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

“Need you, too.” 

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

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

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

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

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now swallow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

It’s not. 

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

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

“Feel so good—”

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

What is he— 

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

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

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

“Yoongi—”

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

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

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

“There you go.” 

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

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

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

“Goddamn.” 

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

Oh, fuck!

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

“Come here.” 

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

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“It missed you, too.”

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

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

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

“Again.” 

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

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

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

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, shit!

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

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

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

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

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

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

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

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

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

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

Does he feel at home, too? 

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

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

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

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

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

“How are you gonna get home?”

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

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

“S’ok.” 

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

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

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

“Maybe try that one more time.”

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

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

“I always do, babe.” 

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

“Miss you.”

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

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

“That’s my fault.” 

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

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

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

“You gave me tonight.” 

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

“A little longer is nothing.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

Us.

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

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

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

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

“We have a game next week.” 

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

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

What’s he doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

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

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

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

“Ah, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you start to hum.

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

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

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

“Shit, was I too loud?”

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

“Not at all.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

For him, you can do anything. 

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

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

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

—

—

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tbc. :) 

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

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

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

broken trust. [part 3] l Joel Miller

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, swearing, unprotected sex (don't do that), guns, blood, infected, Ellie and Tommy appears

 A/N: I don't know how many parts this story will have, I suspect maybe two more. I didn't expect anyone to like it anyway. I'm grateful for your feedback though, it means a lot to me. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie544 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 🖤 

[PART 2]

You were gone.

Joel had no idea how hard this would be for him. He was starting to feel strangely familiar feelings, but he didn't want to name them and he definitely didn't want to think about them. 

His body was playing stupid jokes on him. He would wake up at night feeling like you were still lying right next to him, or that he would soon feel your arms as you snuggled up to his back. He would look up at every significant sound on the staircase and sometimes he would feel like he heard your voice in the crowd of people.

But it wasn't you. You hadn't been in QZ for a long time.

Joel knew he had made a mistake. You had told him many times that he was obsessed with control, but he had explained it to himself only by the fact that he had already lost so much - he didn't want to lose you too. Only your absence made him realize what he really felt for you. Because if it was nothing, would it hurt so much?

Joel didn't remember that time very well, how he functioned. At some point Tess appeared, then Ellie. He didn't believe he would ever see your face again.

He would see you walking around Jackson with Ellie, or hanging out at a local bar with a group of people you knew. He wanted every moment like this to feel normal to him, but he couldn't shake this strange feeling. The feeling that you weren't real in some way, or that you weren't within his reach.

You didn't talk much. Hardly at all. It had been a few weeks since you'd met, and you'd only exchanged a few pleasantries. Ellie had been spending a lot more time with you, though.

Joel didn't mind, especially when Ellie started complaining that you only let her visit you after school. From what he could tell, you and Doc had been showing her how to administer medical aid, and that could come in handy. And he really enjoyed seeing the two of you in Jackson when you were both laughing and joking.

He'd wanted to approach you many times. But he couldn’t do this.

"You think you can hide here?"

"I'm not hiding." he mumbled and looked towards Ellie.

The girl sat down on a haystack at the entrance to the horse corral. She looked pleased with herself, because she caught him doing something he denied.

"You've been hiding here for days." she continued. "Like you have something on your conscience. The horses won't help you with that, dude."

"You're talking nonsense." Joel muttered under his breath and went back to brushing the horse he was taking care of. "Don't you have anything to do?"

"Y/N went to the neighboring settlement, so I guess not. I wanted to go with her, but she wouldn't let me."

"And she did the right thing." he heard Ellie snort. "You must like her, huh?"

"Yeah, she doesn't treat me like a kid. She's cool."

"What do you talk about when you spend so much time together?"

"And why do you want to know?" The girl stood up and walked over to him, her hand gently running over the animal's body. "It's a girl thing."

"Yeah, of course." Joel sneered.

"Yeah! Periods, ex-boyfriends, sex. You know."

When she noticed Joel's furrowed brows, she burst out laughing.

"God, you're so grumpy!" she laughed, but then she became serious. "What did you do to her?"

"W-What?! What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, that's the problem." Ellie shrugged. "I've tried all sorts of things, but she doesn't say anything about you. Except maybe 'Ellie, Joel knows what's good for you.' and things like that. Boring. But I still like her."

Joel put down the brush and wiped his hands on a cloth. There were definitely things Ellie would rather talk about with you than with him. He didn't blame her.

He even envied her. He would give a lot for a few minutes with you, without all the mess that was between you and that you pretended not to see.

"Want to go for a ride?" Joel nodded towards the horse.

"Yeah, it'll be fun."

Ellie helped him prepare the horses, but she had barely sat in the saddle when Tommy appeared in the stable.

"Joel!" he panted. "We need you!"

"What's wrong?" he asked nervously.

"The patrol spotted a group of infected. They're on our route to the next settlement."

"Y/N went there!" Ellie squeaked.

Joel looked at her quickly, his muscles tensing nervously and something tightening his heart.

"I don't know anything about her." Tommy replied, clearly worried. "She went with one of our men, but the patrol didn't report anything. Maybe they're still in town?"

"Or maybe they've already met up with them." Ellie muttered.

"Get off." Joel ordered "Tommy, this one is yours." He pointed to his brother's horse and reached for the gun standing by the wall "Wait for us!"

"I want to help!"

"You stay!" Joel growled at the girl and climbed onto the horse.

"Joel?" the girl stepped back so Tommy could get out of the stables "Bring her back, please."

He knew he would do anything to do it.

His footsteps behind you were heavy, but equally fast. When you reached the third floor and opened the door to your apartment, Joel was already a few steps behind you.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he hissed, slamming the door behind him.

"I wasn't thinking at that moment." you replied, throwing your bag on the table and spilling a few personal items out of your pants pocket.

"I noticed that!" Joel growled, "That was fucking unwise and stupid."

"But it worked, didn't it?" you smiled, looking at him.

Joel was furious. You could see it in his entire posture. He rested his hands on his hips, his chest rising with each deep breath. The wrinkle between his eyebrows and that vein pulsing on his sweaty neck, once again, had pushed him to his limits.

You could have easily been arrested by one of the guards, it was all a matter of a few bad moves, a few poorly chosen words. You had a lot of contraband on you, and you...

"I acted on instinct." You said in your defense. "You should trust me more, Joel."

"I trust you, but you know it's not about that!" He pointed a finger at you. "You can't take that much risk!"

"I can handle it! You don't have to protect me all the time!"

The man took a few steps towards you, but you didn't back up an inch.

"I have to if you're going to act so irresponsibly!"

"Irresponsible?!" You sneered at his tone.

"Childish."

"You're such a jerk sometimes, Joel! You can't admit that I succeeded and..."

You didn't have a chance to finish, his strong hands grabbed your face and your lips collided in a hard kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. Joel forced your mouth open, and his tongue slipped between your lips, ripping a dull moan from your throat.

You threw your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his curly hair as you pulled him closer, pressing your whole body against his. You shifted, although it was quite difficult, and on the way you managed to tip over the chair.

"Fuck!" Joel pulled away from you when he painfully kicked the table, "Come here!"

He grabbed your buttocks and lifted you up so that you wrapped your legs around his waist. It was more comfortable that way and soon he threw you on the bed, and then you felt his weight on you. 

His hands greedily ripped off your shirt and undershirt. You felt his teeth as he lightly bit your breasts through your soft bra. You could feel that he was aroused as hell. His hard cock rubbed against your crotch through his jeans, driving you crazy. 

Your fingers hastily unbuttoned his shirt as Joel fought with the belt of your pants. Your lips were constantly fighting with each other, kissing, stealing each other's breath, or nibbling. Eventually, you both succeeded. Joel stood up and almost forcibly ripped your jeans off.

His shirt landed on the ground next to the rest of your unnecessary clothing. He sat back on his heels and began to unbutton his pants. His hungry gaze swept over your body.

"A penny for your thoughts." You whispered, but he just shook his head.

He never told you what was on his mind in moments like this, and not only in them. You often caught him staring at you as if he wanted to remember a given moment forever. To engrave it in his memory.

His swollen cock finally escaped his jeans, and a pleasant shiver ran through your body. Joel reached out his hand and you lifted yourself up, then sat on his hips, hugging his hot body. The tip of his cock slid a few times over your juice-covered folds and he slid inside you.

You both fell silent for a moment. Joel saw you close your eyes, taking in as much air as you could. He loved the sight, and he had no intention of ever telling you that either.

His hands held your hips as you took him inside to the very end. His cock filled you completely and stretched you so wonderfully.

"Do you want to go for a ride?"

His low voice echoed right next to your ear, his lips brushing your temple. He didn't have to ask a second time. 

Your hips rose and fell, then again and again. Joel let out the most arousing moans you've ever heard. His hands just held your body, squeezing it occasionally. You felt your orgasm building inside you, but at that moment you felt something else. A hard slap on your butt interrupted your heated sighs.

Confused, you looked at Joel, a sly smile appeared on his face.

"Who's acting childish here?" you mumbled.

Another slap and you bit your lip. Your hand slid down his neck and then you squeezed his cheeks, gripping his face tighter.

"I don't know why I'm still with you, Miller." you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. "So irresponsible."

"I think I know why."

His hands pressed your hips harder and his cock hit the spot that drove you crazy. Again and again, it was Joel who was now directing your every movement, setting the pace. You felt the muscles in your thighs burning, but you didn't want to slow down. 

You were so close now, and Joel followed you, hiding his face in the hollow between your shoulder and neck. When your walls tightened around him, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard escaped your throat.

"Joel!"

He quickly laid you back on the bed, his hips slamming into you much faster. You knew he was close. At the last moment, he pulled out of you, stroking his cock a few times. He spilled onto your lower abdomen with a loud groan and threw his head back. One of the most beautiful moments you've ever seen him in.

"You're going to kill me." he mumbled, falling down next to you. "You'll be the death of me."

"Don't be so dramatic." you laughed, reaching for the towel on the chair and wiping off what he left on you. "You just have to trust me. Because I trust you, Joel." 

He smiled slightly and pulled you in to kiss your head. He wanted this moment to last forever.

It was chaos.

A car and a few riders were returning from a neighboring village. The trunk of the car was filled with goods that you managed to exchange, and you were in a really good mood. You were moving slowly. Troy, your companion, was telling you some old jokes, and nothing foreshadowed what was to come.

First, one of the horses got spooked. You noticed it in the side mirror, and right after that you spotted them. A group of a dozen or so infected people came out from between the trees.

The spooked horse threw its rider off.

"Stop!" you shouted to Troy, grabbing his arm. "We have to help him!"

"Y/N!" the man pointed to a point in front of you.

More infected people appeared, this time right in front of you. Troy hit the brake. You pulled your gun out of its holster and pulled the other one out from under the seat.

"Got any magazines, kid?"

"Yeah. A few."

Troy nodded.

"Good luck."

The sound of gunfire filled the air. The whole group sped up at once. Joel felt anger and fear growing inside him. Everything here was happening too slowly, he should have been there, with you.

"Joel!" Tommy caught up with him. "People first! Don't do anything stupid."

"You'll tell her that too?!" he replied.

They rounded a bend and that's when he saw it all. 

Frightened horses running around the area, an abandoned car and two men standing on it trying to kill as many infected as possible. Joel saw blood on the side of the road, but he couldn't see you anywhere.

The riders scattered, trying to help the trapped people.

"Where are you?"

He aimed his shotgun and managed to hit several infected who fell helplessly. He felt panic growing inside him.

"God, let this blood not be hers! Let this blood not be hers!"

Another shot. Screaming. Horses neighing. A shot.

Joel aimed again. Then he saw you. You appeared suddenly running from behind the car, your face covered in blood, but you were still alive. He saw you change the magazine, but one of the infected was too close.

Before you could aim, he fell to the ground after one accurate shot.

"Joel..."

The man stopped his horse right next to you and held out his hand.

"Come on!!"

"I don't..."

"Trust me! Please!"

You didn't hesitate this time. Joel helped you climb onto the horse and hit its sides with his heels to get you out of there as quickly as possible. He could feel you were behind him, hugging him around the waist. Alive.

The sounds of gunfire slowly faded away. Joel noticed more people who had managed to get out and sighed with relief. He stopped and immediately felt you slide off the horse, he did so too.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." you replied trying to see more of where you were.

"Hey, show me."

"Joel, please." you whined.

"Show me." he grabbed your arm carefully and you looked at him. "What's that? You're bleeding."

You rubbed your cheek with your hand and saw blood.

"I fell. I must have cut myself."

"Only this?"

You nodded and a heavy stone fell from his heart. Joel didn't think about what he was doing. His arms pulled you in and you disappeared into his embrace.

It felt so natural. All the pressure you had felt for so long melted away from you, you unconsciously snuggled closer to him. His heart was beating like crazy, you knew yours was too.

You heard the sound of hooves and quickly moved away from Joel. Tommy and the group of riders stopped right next to you.

"Everything okay?" the man asked.

"Yeah. Thanks." You nodded. "We didn't expect them."

"We thought you wouldn't run into them after all. We lost one." He shook his head and looked back. "But the car has to stay there. We'll wait a few days. Maybe this group was the only one."

"Or maybe it's something more..." Joel muttered.

"Maybe." Tommy trailed off, but then nodded to the men. "We're going back, there's nothing for us here."

The drive to Jackson was silent. You were sure that each of you wondered how all of this had come to this and what it could mean. It was already evening when you reached the city.

Joel stopped, and it was only when you got down that you felt how exhausted you were. Your muscles ached and your stomach clenched unpleasantly.

"You should see a doctor."

His voice brought you back to earth. You looked at him blankly.

"Your cheek." He pointed at you with his finger. "Doc should see this."

"I... I'm fine." You replied, but seeing his pleading look, you sighed. "Okay, okay. Jesus, you're so stubborn sometimes."

You turned around and didn't have time to see the small smile that appeared on his face. It wasn't until the door closed behind you that Joel could breathe a sigh of relief. 

He felt his hands shaking and he nervously put them in his pockets. He hated this feeling, this helplessness and loss of control.

All he ever wanted was for his loved ones to be safe. He hadn't managed to do that with Sarah, but Ellie, you or Tommy... Joel didn't want to think about the lengths he could go to keep you safe. And now that life had put you in his path for the second time, he didn't want to screw it up even more.

"Still here?"

Your voice was resonant and Joel closed his eyes for a moment, but then turned to you.

"Yeah, I thought I'd wait for you. If you need anything." he replied.

There was a small bandage on your face.

"Don't look at me like that." you mumbled, smiling "It's your fault. I barely stopped Doc from stitching me up."

"Oh, really?" Joel raised his eyebrows "Have you seen yourself? Do you know what you look like?"

"Don't say that!" you raised a hand to stop him "Don't even try!"

"Scarface."

"Who's being childish here? This isn't even funny." you snorted.

It was good to hear your laughter. He felt a pleasant warmth filling him and that's probably why he decided to try something more.

"Maybe..." Joel cleared his throat "Maybe you'd like to have a drink with me or something?"

His words hung between you for a moment. The ball was in your court.

"Sounds good." you replied after a moment.

He smiled, and you felt how much you missed this in your life. You missed him.

[PART 4]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Heavyweight: Chaggie

Buckle up, Buttercups! This is a bit long. Google translate will be your friend.

Charlie: (exiting her office after a 72 hour video meeting and bee-lining towards the bar) UggGHhghhhHHh!!!! I need a DRINK!!!

Alastor: (whirling in out of nowhere) I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

Charlie: (jumps) Holy Shit!!! Fuck! Alastor, can you not do that, please? You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Alastor: So sorry, dear. I'm just warning you before you go anywhere that the bar is in quite the unsavory state right now.

Charlie: What do you mean? Did Cherri invite her biker friends again?

Alastor: Oh, heavens, no! That little manager of yours would never allow that to happen again.

Charlie: Alastor, we've talked about this. Her name is Vaggie. But why is the bar in an unsavory state?

Alastor: (grins wider) Oh, I suppose you'll just have to see it to believe it, I'm afraid. (opens the door to the bar and latin music blares through the hotel)

Charlie: Alastor, I really don't have the mental fortitude to deal with your bipolar-

-Record Screech-

Charlie: -WHY IS VAGGIE BENCHING THE POOL TABLE IN NOTHING BUT A BRA AND HER SKIRT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Hazbins: GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!

Husker: (counting off Vaggie's reps) Forty-eight! Forty-nine! FIFTY!!!! That's it! Vaggie wins!!!

Vaggie: HA!!! (flips the pool table off to the side and stands up victoriously while speaking Spanish) ¡Toda la razón! ¡Paga, Ángel!

Hazbins: (half cheering and half groaning as money exchanges hands and a few lift Vaggie up like a champion)

Angel: (drunkenly slurring in Italian)

Charlie: And WHY are they speaking like that?!

Alastor: (cleaning his monocle) Ms. Vagatha found out that Angel took a video of your drunken stupor last week and demanded he give all copies to her. He said he would only do it if she out drank him.

Charlie: Again. Not her name. And WHAT?!?!?!?!

Alastor: Needless to say, that woman would do anything for you, so they went shot for shot on something called "tequila". Quite the show, if I say so myself. Angel ended up vomiting in the trash can. They've been arguing in Spanish and Italian ever since. It's almost friendly at this point.

Charlie: BUT WHY IS VAGGIE HALF NAKED?!?!?!?!?!

Alastor: (obviously disgusted by the display but keeping his smile) She didn't want to rip her uniform.

Vaggie: (spots Charlie from her elevated position)

¡Charlie, mi amor!

Charlie: (arrow to the heart as she watches Vaggie hop down and strut over to her, eyes zeroed in on the sway of her girlfriend's hips) Oh, fuck..... I'm in trouble....

Vaggie: (hugs Charlie tight before taking her hand and kissing it) ¿Cómo estuvo tu reunión?

Charlie: (gets goosebumps and blushes) UuuUuUhhhHHHhhh.... V-Vaggie, babe, y-you know I'm not good with my Spanish yet.

Vaggie: Lo sé. (chuckles deeply and looks at Charlie through her long lashes as she snakes her arm around Charlie's waist while the other hand strokes her thumb over Charlie's pulse on her wrist) También sé que te gusta cuando te hablo así en español.

Charlie: (blushing deeper as she wiggles out of her suit jacket and wraps it around Vaggie's shoulders) L-Let's get you covered up.

Vaggie: (smirking as she traces her fingers around the waistband of Charlie's trousers and gently untucks her shirt so she can drag her fingers across the pale skin underneath) Eres tan dulce… y tan sexy cuando te sonrojas.

Charlie: (feels her tail and horns spring up as Vaggie's nails drag across the skin of her hip and tries to corral Vaggie towards the door) OH-KAY!!! L-Let's get you upstairs to bed!

Vaggie: (maneuvers herself so she's escorting Charlie up the stairs leading to their room and uses her wings so that she can hover right next to Charlie's ear from behind) Only if you join me~

Charlie: (thighs pinch together as a spark of electricity jolts through her body and whines) ...oh fuck....

Vaggie: Now, you're catching on~

[brahmsthirdracket]

Hello! I recently came across your hughes brothers fics and binge read most of them last night :). Would you be open to writing anything about the time Luke said quinn ripped jack’s braces out of his mouth? (If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!!)

Luke never feels like eating much before cross-country. He likes it fine - he likes it more than fine actually, at least compared to Jack and Quinn, because it’s one of the few things he’s better at than them - but the thought of slogging it through the mud straight after breakfast makes his stomach roll.

He swirls his spoon around his bowl of cereal instead, trying to corral his Cheerios into a pleasing formation. He’s got a kind of Great Lakes thing going on but he’s eaten Lake Superior and it’s doesn’t really make sense for the milk to be the land and - 

“Time to go, kiddos!”

He swallows Lakes Erie, Michigan, Huron and Ontario, and the surrounding landmass with a grimace, and shuffles into the hall. Jack and Quinn are already sitting on the stairs wearing matching fleecy headbands and looking miserable. 

“It’s cold,” Jack whines. 

“Run faster then,” their mom says, rummaging through her purse. “You’ll soon warm up.” She looks real pretty today, Luke thinks. Like maybe she did her hair extra nice or something. He pulls his headband on and sits on the bottom step, cheek resting on Quinn’s knee, to wait. 

“Jim!” she bellows. “Hurry up! I’m already running late!” 

“For what?” Their dad’s head appears through the basement door, followed by his golf clubs and then the rest of him. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“The PTA fall fundraiser,” says his mom, at the same time his dad says, “Golf.” 

“It’s on the calendar,” they both say at the same time. 

“Well, you’ll have to reschedule,” says his mom in that voice that means no arguing. “Boys have a meet in Sunnybrook.” 

“But -” splutters his dad. “I can’t reschedule. I put it on the calendar, like you told me to.” He lowers his voice, pleading. “El, it’s with the guys.”

“It’s okay mom,” says Quinn, standing up to lean over the bannister and pat her shoulder consolingly. “We’ll miss cross-country this one time.” 

“Let me see this,” she growls, and they all trot into the kitchen after her to peer at her Wildflowers of Texas calendar. 

Fall Fundraiser shift 9-12 is written in today’s box in his mom’s neat handwriting, and below that: 

Q, J & L Prep 2 XC 9am (don’t forget headbands!!)

Someone’s drawn a skull next to cross-country, almost- but-not-quite obscuring a tiny and unmistakable golf printed right at the bottom. 

“See?” says his dad, jabbing a finger at it. 

“Well, just go after the race and take the boys with you,” she says, already fishing out her car keys. 

“But - tee time is at nine! Ellen!” 

“It’d better be a quick race then, hadn’t it?”

She kisses each of them, pinching Jack’s scowling face and adjusting Quinn’s headband. Luke turns his face into her fleeting pat on the cheek before she’s out the door in a waft of perfume.

“Run fast and don’t fall in the lake!” she calls ominously over her shoulder, just before the door swings shut behind her. 

Their dad waits for her SUV to pull out of the drive and down the road before he flicks the curtain back into place and motions for them all to huddle in. 

“Come here, rink rats.” He tugs them in close, lowers his voice like he’s about to reveal some top-secret play. “And listen up. This is the plan.”

***

The plan turns out to be the ODR, a bag of pucks and a cheery, “I’ll pick you up in a coupla hours!” before Luke’s even out of the car. 

Jack whoops with happiness the minute he hits the ice, spinning and sending the pucks scattering in every direction. Quinn’s right behind him, thwacking puck after puck into the net. 

“Fuck.” Thwack “Cross.” Thwack “Countryyyyy.” Thwack

“Forever,” Jack sing-songs, sweeping one up onto his stick and slinging it through the air. It bounces off the metal with a twang.

“C’mon Lukey,” he calls, scuffling playfully against Quinn. “Don’t pretend you actually like that shit.”

Luke tries to sulk for a bit, taking his time with his laces. His brothers hadn't even laced them up for him, which, rude. But it’s a perfect November morning, as crisp and perfect as a snowglobe before you turn it upside down. They’ve got the whole rink to themselves. It’s been way too long since they did this: no adults, no cones or drills or gear, just the three of them together, playing hockey. 

“Yeah, well some of us can actually outrun old ladies pushing little dogs in strollers,” he chirps, darting out into the middle. 

Quinn and Jack exchange a look. “Get ‘im,” growls Quinn, with a wolfish grin, lurching towards Luke and trying to hook him in with his stick. Luke squeals, twisting away and rocketing as fast as he can up to the other end of the rink, Jack in hot pursuit. They chase him all over, dodging pucks and their abandoned sticks and gloves, until they’re all wheezing with giggles. Quinn eventually manages to get an arm around his neck from behind and pull them both down and Jack belly-flops on top. 

“One day,” Luke pants from the bottom of the dogpile, trying to knee Quinn in the balls so he’ll let him up and getting a facewash for his troubles, “I’m gonna be bigger and faster than both of you.” 

“But until that day,” Quinn replies, finally rolling off and tugging Luke to his feet, “You can get in goal.” 

They play shinny until they’re hot under their sweatshirts and jerseys, hair sticking to their foreheads and breath coming in short pants, and Luke thinks he’s never had so much fun playing hockey, playing anything. It’s hard though, just as gut-churning as a whole weekend tournament or relentless drills in the basement with his dad. Jack and Quinn never give an inch, never care that he’s smaller and younger when it comes to this, and he loves them for it, because when victory comes, he knows he’s earned it. They push each other just as hard, sometimes too hard Luke thinks, watching Jack cuss and elbow Quinn in the gut as they're scrabbling against the boards. Quinn shoves his face back, and the next minute they’re rolling around on the ice in one of their completely shitty fistfights. 

Luke hovers next to them, glancing around and praying no one he knows from school is about to walk past. 

“Stop. Trying. To. Bite.” pants out Quinn. He’s managed to roll over and pin Jack with his weight, and is trying to push his face away. Jack’s a slippery eel though - especially when he’s an eel on ice - and he seems to be trying to lick Quinn to get him off. Which is not a tactic Luke would use himself, honestly, but whatever works he guesses. It must work, because he manages to sink his teeth into Quinn’s forearm and they’re rolling all over the place, gloves and sticks forgotten - thank God. What happens next is a blur of flying arms and legs (and in Jack’s case teeth, the weirdo), but suddenly Jack lets out a shriek of pain - a real one - and Quinn lets go of him like he’s been burned. 

Jack curls up, one hand over his mouth, and whimpers into his knees. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Quinn tries to make him look up, pull his hand down. Jack’s eyes are huge with unshed tears. “Jackie?” Quinn asks again, really worried now.

“Um,” says Luke. He squats down next to Jack and picks up the little piece of metal off the ice. Cradling it in his glove, he holds it out to Jack, who gazes at it for a moment and then promptly socks Quinn square in the jaw. 

***

“Someone’s arm better be hanging off,” growls their father when he pulls up to the curb they’re huddled next to and flings the car door open. Luke wordlessly holds out the braces to him. “The fuck is that?” 

“Jack’s braces,” mumbles Quinn, with a guilty glance at the unhappy figure hunched on the other side of the lot. 

“Jack has braces?” Sometimes Luke thinks he could grow a tail and his dad wouldn’t notice unless it affected his play. Last week he had to check Quinn’s date of birth so he could fill out some paperwork.

“He doesn’t anymore, Dad,” Luke pipes up. 

“Jack! Get over here!” he bellows. He takes the braces from Luke’s hand, holding them up for a better view. “These things just click back into place or what?” Jack stomps over, scowling and sniffing. He won’t even look at Quinn, and when Quinn tries to reach out his hand Jack smacks it away viciously. 

“Fuck off.”

Their dad gets a handful of Jack’s jersey and tries to prise his mouth open like he’s a dog that’s eaten something bad. “Oww", whines Jack, trying to twist out of his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“Open. Up.” Their dad grunts, trying to push the braces back across Jack’s front teeth with one hand, and hold him still with the other. 

“Dad, no! Stop!” Quinn pushes himself between them, trying to protect Jack from being force-fed a mouthful of metal. “You can’t do that! We have to go to the orthodontist.”

“The what?” he pants, temporarily letting go of Jack to turn the metal round, as if the reason he couldn’t fit them back on like Lego was that they were upside down. Jack immediately darts behind Quinn and Luke reaches up to swipe them out of their Dad’s hand. 

“Dad,” he says, more bravely than he feels. “I think you need to call Mom.”

The three of them huddle together on the backseat, trying to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible as their dad calls their mom for instruction. Luke finds a packet of half-eaten Reese’s pumpkins, no worse for being frozen and unfrozen a few times and settles in for the long-haul. Jack slumps sideways with his head in Quinn’s lap, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt and allowing Quinn to scratch behind his ear in apology.

She’s ominously silent all the way through the slightly edited version of what happened, not even interrupting to yell at Quinn. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says, after a pause. “You didn’t take your sons to their scheduled sports-activity but instead took yourself to golf and allowed said sons out unsupervised to publicly brawl, causing hundreds of dollars of dental bills?” 

“It was on the calendar! It was on the calendar Ellen!” 

“Well Jim Hughes, all I will say is thank God for Canadian healthcare.”

“They cover braces?” says his dad, perking up. He twists round to waggle his eyebrows at them, all looks like we got away with it.

“Oh no,” she says airily. “I meant for you four, when I’ve finished with you!”

[worldofheroes]

Escape

tom cruise x fem!reader

summary: you never thought your dog would be your wingman.

warnings: 18+, age gap, language, kissing, praise, protected sex

wc: 1.5k

a/n: based on a request by @joyce-stdt ! Sorry it took so long, hope the wait was worth it! ❤️❤️

“Jack!” you call out after your normally well-behaved dog. Something spooked him and he slipped out of his collar.

He starts to barrel towards the next person coming down the trail.

“Jack, here!”

The person down the trail somehow grabs Jack and holds on to his own dog.

“I am so sorry,” you say as you jog up to him.

“It’s no problem,” he smiles.

You slip Jack’s collar back on. “Thank you.”

“Seriously, no problem.”

“Thanks again, and have a good day,” you say, quickly leaving the awkward situation that you just made.

The next day, you run into the same man and dog.

“Hi there,” the man smiles.

You look over and realize it’s the same man from yesterday… and that the man is Tom Cruise. Living in LA for so long has made you indifferent to celebrity sightings and sometimes, well, they just go right over your head.

“Hi,” you smile back. “Thanks again for corralling this guy yesterday, I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey, no problem, it happens,” Tom smiles. “I’m Tom.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I realize that now.”

“Yeah, yesterday you seemed a little flustered,” Tom chuckles.

“I’m y/n,” you continue. “And this is Jack, but I guess my yelling yesterday told you that.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Tom says, crouching down to pet Jack. “And nice to meet you, buddy.”

“Who you got with you?”

“Oh, this is Champ,” he tells you, giving Champ a pat on the head. “An old guy like me.”

“Oh, come on,” you smile, finally getting comfortable.

“Well, much older than you.”

“You sure don’t look it,” you tease him.

“Thank you very much, miss,” Tom teases back.

“Listen, I need to get going,” you say.

“I understand,” Tom says. He pauses a moment before he pulls out his phone and hands it to you. “I’d like to get your number… maybe our dogs could play together sometime…”

“Sure,” you agree, taking his phone and quickly entering your number.

“Great,” he says. “I’ll see you around.

“Sounds good,” you smile as you walk away from him.

The next day, the two of you run into each other again.

“Hi Tom,” you smile. “Hey Champ.”

“Hi y/n,” Tom smiles back. “And of course, hi Jack.”

“Third day in a row,” you say.

Tom chuckles. “I guess it’s a sign or something,” he trails off.

“What?”

“Listen, y/n, I’d really like to get to know you and talk more than we do with these brief encounters… I was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner at my place, tonight,” Tom says.

It takes you a moment to process what is happening. Is he really asking you out?

“Only if Jack can come too,” you tease, trying to keep it light.

Tom smiles. “Of course, Champ would love that.”

“What time?”

“How does 7 sound?”

“We can do 7.”

“Great, I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds good, Tom,” you smile as the two of you part ways once again.

That night, you’re trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as you get ready.

You keep it casual with jeans and a simple blouse.

You grab Jack’s leash and head to the address Tom texted you.

When you get there, you’re greeted by a huge gate. You press the call button.

“How can I help you?” a gruff voice says from the other end.

“I was invited here by Tom, my name is y/n y/l/n.”

“Yes, he has been expecting you.”

The gate buzzes and then opens for you and Jack. You make your way up the driveway to the big front door.

The door opens and Champ runs out to greet you and Jack.

“Hi, y/n,” Tom smiles. “Dinner just finished, come on in.”

You and Tom enjoy a nice dinner and have a couple glasses of wine each. After dinner, the two of you move to the couch and chat, unaware that both of you are moving closer to the other.

That is, until you’re inches apart.

“Tom,” you breathe.

“I have never met someone so genuine,” he says softly, gently raising a hand to stroke your cheek.

There’s a slight pause, and Tom closes the gap between you, his lips gently pressing against yours.

“Sorry,” Tom says, moving away.

“No,” you say, grabbing his arm. “That… was nice.”

Tom smiles. “I was afraid I was being too forward.”

“Not at all,” you reassure him with a smile.

This time, you lean in and kiss him. Tom gently pulls you onto his lap.

He gently guides the kiss deeper, and you happily oblige to his wishes. A small sigh escapes you as he caresses the back of your head.

“Why don’t we move this somewhere else,” Tom suggests, gently kissing the corner of your mouth.

You nod. He helps you off his lap and leads you to the bedroom.

Tom backs you to the bed, and you fall onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you and peppers your skin with open mouth kisses.

“Do you trust me?” Tom asks against your skin.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Tom hums happily and breaks from you to take his shirt off. You follow suit and take your own shirt off, tossing it to the floor with Tom’s.

“So beautiful,” Tom whispers as he leans in to kiss your body. He gently places a hand on your waist.

“Tom,” you sigh, arching your back.

“Good girl,” he praises as his hands start to move down your body to work at the button on your jeans.

Your grabby hands try to reach for anything, but Tom’s just out of reach. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a playful glint in them.

“I have an idea,” he says, abruptly moving away from you and the bed.

“What?” you ask.

He undoes his belt, pulling it from the belt loops.

You raise a brow at his move.

“If you get uncomfortable at all, please tell me,” he says as he crawls over your body.

“Okay,” you say with a nod, removing your bra in hopes it reads as confidence and not neediness.

Tom smiles and leans down to kiss you as he ties your hands up with his belt. He attaches it somehow to the headboard, and now you’re his to do as he pleases.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Tom mutters as he leans in to kiss your collarbone, slowly making his way to a breast.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking at it as his other hand massages the other breast, tweaking at the nipple.

“Oh,” you gasp, trying not to squirm.

Tom smiles against your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, darling.”

“Please do,” you sigh.

Tom chuckles softly as he works on getting your jeans off.

He takes a swipe at your clothed, aching center with his fingers, making you buck. A pleased smile crosses Tom’s face.

“You make this too easy,” he chuckles as he pulls his own jeans and briefs down.

“I can’t help it,” you reply.

Tom grabs your panties and pulls them off in a swift movement. He crawls back over you, capturing your lips with his once again as he searches for a condom in the nightstand drawer.

He breaks contact only to open the condom and roll it down his shaft.

“I need to touch you,” you whine.

“You’ll get your chance,” he says as he lines himself up.

Tom gently pushes in, the stretch delicious. You whine as he helps you accommodate his size.

His brows knit together as he watches himself go deeper into you, soon all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck,” you continue to whine, squirming on the mattress.

“That’s a good girl,” Tom mutters, gently moving.

“Oh my god, this is torture,” you say, bucking your hips.

Tom chuckles. “You want more, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, wanting more.

He leans down to kiss you passionately as he picks up his pace, leaving you gasping.

Your hands grip the belt around them, knuckles turning white as Tom slams into you. His moans in your ear turning you on further, making you go wild for him.

“Oh, please, I’m gonna cum,” you cry out.

“I know you are, baby,” Tom says into your ear, nibbling on it. “Let it happen.”

You soon reach your climax, vision going blurry as you let go, Tom right behind you. He slips your hands out of the belt and you throw them around his torso, gripping tightly.

Tom whispers praises in your ear as the two of you come down from your highs.

“Good girl,” he praises, removing himself from you and discarding the condom.

He lays back down on the bed, pulling you onto his chest, damp with sweat. You lazily pepper his skin with kisses.

“I usually don’t do this on a first date,” Tom chuckles.

You giggle. “I usually don’t either, but I’m so glad I did.”

“Me too,” Tom smiles.

[celestialdusks]

Wait so L covers their freckles with make up? Dude, I love freckles. Let em show babe

I also love freckles! Like if I had freckles I’d never cover them up, but I always knew that L would have some type of insecurity that they’d like to cover up so I went with freckles

[hazza-bear-care]

Ironic

Hayden and Reader met and fell in love while filming a movie. After a four year break, you go on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, and he points something out.

gif not mine; credit to the owner!

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Actress!Reader (established relationship) age gap (Reader is 28, Hayden is 41)

Warnings: Fluff, dad!Hayden, twins are a boy and a girl, pet names (honey, sweetheart), is jimmy fallon in new york or la? hes in new york for this one. mentions of pregnancy, abortion, and childbirth

~~~~~~~~

You were scrambling around the condo trying to make sure you had everything you needed before you left for the night. You kissed your babies as they slept, quietly slipping downstairs to see your husband. He looked amazing, dressed in all black, his hair slicked back and a smirk on his face.

"You look great, honey. Do you have everything?" Hayden asked, ever patient while you ran through your mental checklist, confirming you were ready to leave. He held out is arm and led you to the car, the babysitter told to make herself at home and not to wait up. Your heels clacked on the concrete path, unconsciously chewing on your bottom lip as the driver opened the car door, sliding quickly into your seat. Hayden followed, grabbing your hand to comfort you.

"I'm okay." You mumble, feeling the lingering stare your boyfriend was sending your way. With a chuckle, he pulled your hand up from your lap and kissed your knuckles.

"I know. I'm still here, sweetheart." The tender moment made your heart skip a beat, tummy now flipping for a different reason, a welcome distraction from the nerves.

"Thank you, honey." You responded, sending him a loving smile. He nodded and kissed your hand again, letting you turn to look at New York whizzing by. It was a rainy November day, the anticipation of snow thick in the air and the condensation on the window blurred the city lights as you got closer to your destination. You hurried into the building, clutching tightly to Hayden's hand as he confidently led you through the double doors. A crewmember corralled you into your dressing room backstage seeing as you were about half an hour early and you took a deep breath to help calm down. Hayden grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open before handing it to you, which you gratefully accepted.

Thirty minutes later, you and Hayden stood behind the curtain, waiting for Jimmy to introduce you. Your knees were wobbly and your palms were sweaty, anxiety settling in a ball in your belly.

"Please welcome Hayden Christensen and Y/N Y/L/N!" As the curtain opened, Hayden squeezed your hand three times, a silent I love you. You smiled and waved to the audience, excitedly hopping over to your seat and clapping with the audience.

"Oh my God, I've missed this!" You gushed, a bright smile on your face.

"It's great to have you back! How are you? How have you been?" Jimmy asked, his eyes flicking between the two of you.

"I've been good! Lots of changes, a few new surprises, but it was definitely what I needed." You responded, glancing at Hayden as you spoke. He returned your gaze, smiling at you with so much love and support it almost made your heart explode.

"So you two met on a movie, correct?"

"Yes! It was a cheesy little rom-com called Maybe, Probably. It took about a year and a half to film, and it was a wild ride from start to finish." Hayden answered.

"In a good way?" Jimmy asked, leaning over his desk to hear better.

"In the best way, Jimmy." You responded. A chorus of 'aww' rippled through the audience and you blushed, biting back a smile and turning back to face Jimmy.

"So what was your first date like?"

"Oh it was pretty great despite the circumstances." You giggled slightly at the memory. "I was sick the day of. I spent all day filming outside in, like, 30 degree weather, and I had rain pouring on me. I woke up the next day feeling like crap and I did everything in my power to feel better by the date, but nothing worked."

"Oh no! What happened?" Jimmy urged.

"I called Hayden and apologized. He accepted, then asked me if there was anything I needed. I thought nothing of it, he was just being nice, until about an hour later when he showed up at my place with soup, medicine, and my favorite movie." You gushed, once again blushing as Hayden held your hand.

"Which is funny because her favorite movie is Revenge of the Sith." Hayden commented, laughing with you and the audience.

"Aw that was so sweet! So you took a break soon after Maybe, Probably. Why?"

"I was getting burnt out, in all honesty. I've been in the industry since I was 18, and after six years of non-stop working; filming and interviews, and traveling, It was just time for a break."

"Hayden, how did you feel during that time?"

"I agreed and supported her choice. I know what it's like to work until you're bone tired, and you suddenly stop that routine, you don't know what to do with yourself." Jimmy nodded, listening intently.

"I got cabin fever pretty early on. I deep cleaned the house, read all the books I had, went for walks. I did whatever I could to keep myself busy for about two weeks, before I eventually just hit a wall. One day I think I slept until like 2 in the afternoon, I was just that tired."

"Wow! So you're feeling better, right? Ready to get back into acting when the time is right?" Jimmy asked, flipping through his notecards to keep the conversation flowing.

"Oh yeah, of course! I'm already working on a few new things that I can't talk about just yet, but so far they're pretty amazing!" You answered quickly, wrapping your hands around your knee as you crossed your legs.

"You mentioned some new surprises earlier on, would you care to elaborate?" Jimmy asked, a knowing smile on his face. You glanced at Hayden, who slightly nodded at the question hanging in the air.

"After two years of being together, I found out I was pregnant right around Valentine's Day." You revealed, the crowd going wild shortly after they heard the word 'pregnant'.

"Oh that's amazing! What was your reaction to that?" Jimmy asked.

"I was terrified! I went back and forth for weeks about what I wanted to do; keep it, don't keep it. I ended up calling my mom to tell her, and of course her first question was 'have you told Hayden yet?'. My answer was no, because we hadn't discussed having a baby. We weren't even living together at the time, so I practically chewed my lip off as I debated having this conversation with him." You answered, popping your knuckles anxiously.

"When she finally did tell me, I think we had just missed the cutoff to abort, but I didn't care. I knew I wanted another baby almost as soon as Briar was born, so when Y/N told me she was pregnant I practically jumped out of my skin."

"So about four months after I found out, I went to the doctor. I had an amazing OB/GYN, and she supported my craziness and my paranoia on days when Hayden couldn't be there. Anyway, this was a routine appointment, I'm laying on the ultrasound table, and all of a sudden she gets this weird look on her face. My heart drops and I immediately think the worst; I had lost my baby.... until she looks at me with a smile and pushes a button on the keyboard. The sound of not one, but TWO heartbeats echoed around me and Hayden and I just remember looking between him and the doctor with wide eyes." You giggled.

"You guys had twins?" Jimmy asked, jaw on the floor in shock.

"We had twins, a boy and a girl." Hayden answered. The crowd cheered along with Jimmy, who came around the desk to wrap you in a hug.

"Congratulations! What are their names, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Thank you! It was quite a debate trying to pick their names. I called them Ross and Monica, Jim and Pam while I was pregnant, but none of them really stuck. I think we were about to be discharged from the hospital, getting all packed up and dressed, and I looked at my babies and it all just clicked. Our son is Theodore Isaac Christensen, aka Theo. Our daughter is Matilda Sage Christensen, aka Tilly." You gushed about your babies, tearing up slightly as you thought about them at home with the nanny, almost feeling guilty that you weren't there with them. Hayden noticed your voice beginning to crack, so he took over talking.

"They just turned one in October, and we had a cute Star Wars themed birthday party. We invited friends and family, Briar loves being a big sister, it just all worked out so wonderfully. I couldn't ask for a better family, if I'm being honest."

"Y/N, at what point did you realize that you had twins with Anakin Skywalker?" Jimmy asked, throwing his head back and clapping as he watched a wave of realization hit both you and Hayden.

"I never connected the dots! Haha, Natalie, I had his twins and survived!" You commented, Jimmy laughing harder at the joke you made.

"Alright, when we come back, we're going to play some games with Y/N, Hayden, and our next guest! See you soon!" Jimmy called to the camera, signaling a commercial break. The rest of the show went by in a flash, the games you played with your boyfriend, Jimmy Fallon, and Blake Lively helping you realize just what you were missing during your break.

You loved acting. You got to do your dream job every day, no matter how tiring it was, but nothing could replace the feeling of going home at the end of the day and spending some quality time with your little family.

Maybe you should take a break more often. Probably not.

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 12

Right after breakfast, Steve went to the first part of his schedule, which turned out to be music practice. His actual duty was just corralling the more stubborn ones and making sure they went. After that, he was to be with Nancy. She brought him to her study, which seemed equally devoted to academic knowledge and weaponry.

"What exactly are your intentions here?", she asked, point blank as she sat behind her desk.

There was a chair, but Steve wasn't sure if he could sit. "I don't really have any. I just...I can't go home."

"Bullshit. Even if your dad is some kind of asshole, he wouldn't let his heir just sit and rot here." Nancy's eyes were as sharp as her tongue and it clashed with her soft face.

Steve looked away. "He doesn't give a damn about me. If I go back, I'll just be another prisoner. Maybe even worse off than I am here."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Nancy looked him up and down. "Even if you have the king's protection, there are plenty in this castle and out who see you as an enemy."

"Does that include you? You think I have a secret plan to assassinate King Edward?"

Nancy stood up and walked around her desk. "I know you couldn't lay a hand on him. My issue is having a royal from a nation we've been fighting against walking free around the people I love. People who don't know how to defend themselves." She stepped up until she was nearly toe-to-toe with Steve. This close, he could see how small she was, and yet that didn't diminish how intimidating she was.

"So let me say this one time. If you touch a single hair on their heads, you better hope that Eddie gets to your first. At least he'll make it quick."

Warned sufficiently, Steve was dismissed and the next thing he was tasked with doing was being extra help in the kitchen. Dustin's mother, Claudia, had him on vegetable peeling duty.

"My spells can do the trick most of the time but the potatoes I like to leave some of the skin on. And the enchantment either does it completely or not at all."

Steve's only experience in kitchens had been the food that came from them. He was never really involved in the process of making the meals. Which meant by the end of kitchen duty, he had a few cuts and scrapes on his hands.

"How are you so good with a sword but you nicked yourself peeling carrots?", Lucas asked, doing some warm up stretches.

"Two different skillsets", Steve said, doing some of his own stretching. "By the way, why do we have an audience now?"

Just outside of the training arena, sat Will and Max, looking far too interested in it for people not at all interested in combat. Steve had already asked if they wanted training too and they denied.

"We're just here for the show", Max said.

Done with stretching, Steve began to teach Lucas some basic forms. In his head, he was already thinking of matching Lucas with different weapons. Swordplay was always the go to but not everyone was meant for it. It was a good place to start though.

After that first session, he could already see the promise in him. And there was a spark to be better too, even when he fell or dropped his sword. Steve didn't know what was driving him, but it must be important.

Once that finished, they washed up and went down to the kitchens to meet up with the others for lunch. Mike had been late to the meal, barging through the doors in his excitement to give the news.

"You're not gonna believe this! Eddie's actually performing at the Sunrise Festival!"

"No way!", Dustin exclaimed.

"This is big", Will said.

"Do you think this is why he's making us take music lessons?", El asked.

At that, many of them groaned, the loudest of all being Dustin. He'd made it very clear his opinion on playing music. But it was also true that he appreciated it.

"I think it's great we'll get a chance to play with him", El said.

"Nothing's set in stone", Max said. "And Eddie's not going to let us play if we're not up to par with him."

"Is he really that good at playing music?", Steve asked, speaking up finally.

"He's like a musical genius", Lucas said.

"Like a god", Dustin seconded.

It was hard to imagine someone like the king playing an instrument. He couldn't imagine any one fitting him, he didn't seem musical at all. After lunch, his schedule was to basically be Robin's assistant and it turned out she was a jack of many trades. In addition to being the one teaching the kids music, she was also in charge of the library, and was taking the lead on some of the activities for the Sunrise Festival.

As far as Steve could tell, it was to celebrate the coming of spring, which was difficult to think that this place had after only hearing of it being a dark, desolate wasteland. But he saw the sun everyday and even got to feel some of its warmth on his face. He couldn't deny it anymore. At the end of the day, he had dinner with the king and his inner circle, which included Nancy, Jeff, Robin, and two others he hadn't met until now, Gareth, and Franklin.

"So", Eddie started as he sat down at the head of the table. "How was your day, little prince?"

"It was...busy... My schedule's pretty filled up." Steve was sure he had Nancy to thank for that.

"Get used to it", Nancy said.

Eddie grinned. "She's right. It only gets more busy from here. Mark your calendar, Harrington. The festival is in two weeks."

Part 14

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug

[rashomonss]

A HUMANS WRATH

Part X

previous part

taglist: @miridiums-writing, @zerchlia, @aeongiies, @xmoogx, @coffeeandtealol, @food-lover9000, @l0diluvs, @vichsy, @valeriele3, @entolomaeden, @acaribeau, @sillybeanzo, @jessiegerl, @capricorn-anon, @crescentworld, @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r, @chumbinhoeba, @chaos-n-kindness, @strawberryfire17, @zenxvii, @misscaller06, @luminarysol, @simpinginthecorner, @your-next-daydream, @bontensbabygirl

a/n: let’s gooo!! this is officially the 10th chapter of a humans wrath! how are y’all liking the story so far? and don’t worry because there’s plenty more chapters to come! also I’m so sorry for making y’all wait this long life’s been kinda hectic right now especially since I got sick twice, but I seriously thought I posted this instead it’s just been sitting in my drafts… also we’re going back to the original timeline rn enjoy!

warnings: lesson 16 spoilers, choking, mentions of killing, angst

I’ll make sure you’ll know what it feels like

“-don’t know what happened!”

“-.... some space”

“.... calm down”

They were all so loud. All the voices in your room sounded familiar….were they the brothers?

Opening your eyes you winced at the harsh light of your room causing someone to freak out and turn it off. Someone else then turned on a small lamp by your bedside.

After a few moments you sat up and tried to adjust yourself, slowly recalling what had happened; however some loud voices had soon interrupted your thought process.

“You woke them up idiot!”

“Ow! You didn’t have to hit me! Besides blame Asmo not me, he was hovering over them”

“Don’t put the blame on me! You're the one who freaked out when Lucifer said they fainted”

“Shut up! I did not”

“Did too”

“Did not!

“Did too”

“How would you both like to hang from the ceiling for the next five hours”

“Eeep!”

“Wait, we're sorry!”

“Idiots”

“Would you like to join them, Satan?”

“I’ll kill you”

“Could you all quiet down, please” you said, grabbing your head.

The talking stopped and all seven of them turned to look at you. Concerned faces then turned into sparkling eyes as each of them threw themselves on you shouting your name.

It took you a second to register that six demons were now suffocating you. Once it did register however you yelled at them to get off, pushing some off in the process. A few looked at you with sad expressions and then looked towards the eldest brother.

“Don’t be upset, they pushed you off. After all, how would you feel after being rudely woken up?” He said, sighing.

The brothers then looked towards you and apologized, but you returned their apology with a blank stare. Even if it was a matter as small as this one you won’t forgive them.

“Let’s give Mc some space, once they’re good and ready they can come and get us” Lucifer then said realizing you were beginning to feel uncomfortable.

So he then corralled his brothers out of the room and shut the door behind them despite many protests and angry faces. After he made his way towards you, wearing a solemn expression.

“Let’s talk whenever you feel better. I’ll be waiting for you in my office” Lucifer nodded. Without another word he left, leaving you in the dimly lit silence of your room.

Sighing you rolled over in your bed and faced the wall. You didn’t really want to talk to the others, especially Lucifer for that matter. But for some reason a small part of you wanted too, which somewhat annoyed you.

The longer you laid in bed, the more you found yourself wanting to see them again. Which was unnatural because you’ve never experienced that before. This was probably an effect that voice had on you before fainting.

You’ll deal with it later, you thought. This feeling was becoming annoying and you were starting to get hungry. Turning over to face your bedside table you grabbed your D.D.D. and went to the messages.

And what you found were so many you never received before. So many conversations the you here was a part of. So many in which all the beings closest to them expressed just how much they loved them.

You were shocked because you had never really paid attention to the messages in this D.D.D. You only used it to contact the angels and sorcerer. There was much you did pay attention to, you then thought.

You sent Mammon a quick message before getting completely distracted, asking him to bring you some food. His reply was fast, it made you wonder if he was the type to have your chat with him pinned.

This you actually had a few pinned chats at the top of their messages. The first was the “House of Lamentation (New)”. The second and third were “The Royals” and “The Angels”. And lastly was “Lucifer, you S*CK” which made you laugh a bit.

As you continued to read through messages you found out a few more things about the you that resided here.

For starters, the brothers were always getting into trouble and you were always fixing it. Next was the fact that the brothers liked to message you about the most random and unnecessary things, but you still choose to humor them anyway. Why is that?

Third, was that you liked to visit the Lord Demons castle frequently for tea. And fourth was that the bond you shared with the brothers here was nothing more than something special to each of you.

A knock was suddenly heard at your door causing you to jolt and sit up.

“I’m comin’ in okay?” The voice said.

Before you had the chance to respond Mammon pushed open the door carrying a tray of food. When his eyes met yours he smiled and you gave a small smile in response.

“Here ya go. I didn’t know what ya wanted so I just bought a bit of everything” Mammon said, before putting the tray in front of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said, then began to eat.

Mammon pulled up a chair from your table and sat in front of your bed watching as you picked at the food in front of you. Neither of you said a word but your eyes met his countless times, it looked as if he had something to say but for some reason he wouldn’t say it.

Once you finished he took the tray from you and placed it on the table, then he sat back down and looked at you.

Silence filled the room again, only this time it made you feel a bit awkward. Since he hadn’t said anything yet you spoke, deciding that here and now you would be serious with him in what you were thinking of doing.

“Mammon I want to tell you something”

“Oh what’s up? Ya know you can tell me anything” he smiled.

You looked at his smile, maybe a small part of you felt bad, but in the end you were still the same old you with the same old feeling of hatred for the brothers.

“I want to sever our pact.”

With that the color drained from his face and he stared at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean sever the pact” he said, finally managing to get out.

“I mean I don’t want a pact with you anymore, so let’s break it off. Besides, what kind of demon like you would want a pact with a human such as myself?”

“Wait Mc, let’s talk this over okay? Ya don’t need to be so impulsive with decisions like this ya know” Mammon said, frantically waving his hands around.

“But I’ve given this enough thought and I’m completely sure of myself. Unless you give me a good reason as to why I shouldn’t do this, then I will sever our pact myself.”

“I, I um, well.” Mammon said. His brain was running a mile a minute trying to think of something, anything to say to you. A part of him was upset because he knew that you weren’t his Mc, however he had to stop you before you did something you would regret in the future.

“Mc. Please don’t do this.” He begged, grabbing both of your hands.

The action alone made you want to gag, but unlike the first time he touched you while you were here, this was bearable.

“Is that all? That’s not much of an argument.”

“No, that's not what I meant!” He yelled. “I just don’t want you to do somethin’ you’re gonna regret later.”

You raised an eyebrow and narrowed your eyes at the demon in front of you. “Bold of you to think I would regret something as simple as this. Besides if the only reason you want to keep a pact is to show it off then we’re through”

“What? Where the hell did ya get that idea?” Mammon asked, baffled. The second eldest sighed and looked towards you again before talking.

“I don’t want to sever our pact okay. I don’t wanna lose that connection I have with ya…”

“I was your first man, remember? And as your first I promised to be there for you all the time so don’t go tryna get rid of me now, because it’s not happening ya hear?” Mammon said.

He tried to appear calm and collected as he spoke but in reality he was gripping his pants with all of his strength in hopes he could have persuaded you to not sever your pact.

His anxiety only shot up more when you gave him a blank stare after he finished.

You sighed and then laughed.

Mammon looked at you wide eyed and confused. Was something he said funny? Was it a good thing you were laughing? He didn’t know what was going on and frankly it scared him a bit.

“That was sweet” you thought.

Maybe you won’t sever the pact just yet, you could wait just a bit more. No later than a second an idea popped into your head. If you were to ask each of the brothers the same question how would they respond? You wanted to find out, to see the utter shock on their faces as they tried to come up with an answer.

So that’s just what you sought out to do.

“Alright you win for now.” You said to Mammon, who finally was able to breathe in response.

“Really?” He exclaimed. Mammon was so ecstatic that he was ready to hug you.

However as he launched himself towards you he saw the annoyed face you made as well as the way you flinched away from him. So he stopped and looked towards you.

“Can I…can I hug ya?”

Your eyes went wide as you processed his words, none of them had ever asked if you were okay with being touched before.

After the incident you made a no touching rule due to the sheer fear you harbored after the youngest killed you, but they always choose to ignore it and touch you anyway which resulted in you using the pacts. However, for someone to actually ask you if you were okay with being touched threw you off a bit.

You blinked a few times then nodded slowly.

Mammon slowly made his way towards you and hugged you gently, and much to both of yours surprise you returned the gesture.

After your conversation with Mammon you then went to speak to Levi.

When you told him about wanting to sever your pact he fell off his gaming chair and had a conniption. You’ve never seen him cry before until then, honestly it was a bit refreshing in a sense. But wait did that make you a sadist?

After you spoke to him about severing the pact he claimed that if you did he’d have no reason left to live, which you paid no attention to. However he did confess that he loved you dearly after you said that his previous statement wasn’t a good enough reason for you. It was embarrassing enough for him so you left it at that.

Next was Beel and his reason was actually the only one you felt somewhat touched by.

Beel had told you that he loved you more than anything or anyone. He did mention his love for his twin and brothers, but he said you were different. You were everything to him, so if you broke the connection you had with him then he expressed how upset he would be. But he was the first to say that it was your choice and if you really wanted too then he wouldn’t stop you. You thought that was a decent enough response so you chose to keep the pact with him for now.

Asmo in the end had the same reaction as Levi, the only difference was his mascara ran because he cried more. Like Levi, Asmo exclaimed that he couldn’t live without you, however what you didn’t expect was him to compliment you till you were red in the face. So along with the others your pact with him stayed for another day.

Finally you had made your way to Satan.

You hadn’t spoken to the fourth born much while you were here however he did feed off of numerous amounts of your wrath making you less angry than usual, instead he was more irritable.

You knocked on his door and after a second a quiet “Come in” could be heard. Upon entering you saw him chained to a chair reading a book, and when he made out your figure he narrowed his eyes just the slightest bit.

“Still angry? After being that upset for so long I would have thought you'd be tired by now.” He asked.

“And I thought you would have been set free already but it appears not.”

Satan raised one of his eyebrows then spoke. “I never knew that a human as sweet and tiny as you could harbor so much hatred for others. Sometimes I felt it truly rivaled mine”

You laughed then and continued as well. “ Oh you think so?”

“Please Mc, I haven’t felt that angry since I was born”

You laughed and looked towards him, and before you could even speak he said “no”.

“No?” You questioned, confused.

“I heard you were going around telling everyone that you were debating on severing our pacts. And my answer is no, you will not sever your pact with me.”

You nodded in response. “So that’s your argument? Honestly I’m surprised, I would have thought you wouldn’t have cared”

Satan looked a bit shocked then spoke. “Of course I care about you Mc. I care about you more than anything, hell I worry more about you more than anything.”

“You really do have a way with words,” you replied, all the brothers did. Each buttered you up when you asked them to state their reasoning for not wanting to sever the pact.

Satan didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or not; well that was until he could feel rage boiling up inside you again.

“Mc, l-”

“Let’s leave it at that for now, I have someone else to go see” you said walking out before he could finish.

As the door closed you then made your way down the hallway, and the sound of things being thrown around again in Satan’s room could be heard.

Next was the youngest brother. You decided to go to him first before Lucifer because you didn’t want to see him just yet. In actuality you didn’t want to see Belphegor either but you’d eventually have to speak to him about your pact sometime.

Beel had mentioned his twin was in the planetarium the last time you spoke to him so that’s where you were currently on your way to. Pushing open the door you saw the youngest laying on a bench surprisingly awake at that.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to calm your breathing. There was always something going wrong whenever you would see Belphegor. For example your chest would tighten to the point where you won’t be able to breath so you’d leave before you even got the chance to talk to him. Or your voice would get very shaky and you’d feel your hands sweat whenever you would pick on him.

It was hard to even be alone in a room with him because of the constant fear you had of being killed again. That fear played a large part into how you acted towards the brothers now. If it wasn’t for that constant fear of being on the brink of death again then you wouldn’t be as strict as you usually are.

Maybe if you were never killed in the first place you wouldn’t be like this, you thought staring at the ceiling of the planetarium.

“Are you going to come in?” Belphegor asked, looking over the bench.

Your eyes went wide then you took a deep breath before completely walking into the room. sitting next to the bench he was sitting on. You made sure to put some distance between the two of you just in case of anything.

“Why don’t you feel comfortable around me anymore?” Belphegor asked. He wasn’t even surprised about it since his question came off as very blunt. After he asked you he sat up and faced you tilting his head waiting for your response.

“Take a guess, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out,” you said, not looking back at him.

The demon in response sighed and laid back down, turning over to face the ceiling. “Is it because I messed up your bed again?”

“You’d think I’d be this upset over such a small thing? Well you're not wrong, however that is not why I'm upset.”

Belphegor knew what you were referring to, however he didn’t want to bring it up. He hoped after the whole thing happened you’d forget it, and you actually did to his surprise. It’s not like he didn’t want to apologize, he just never thought the time would be right. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited this long but he couldn’t help it. He was a coward.

Belphegor was afraid of what you would say if he did apologize. He was afraid to say anything to you because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he killed you. You were someone so dear to him now, and the fact that he took away your life once was something he’d liked to forget.

However for you to now take out your anger on him and him alone because you remembered that one trivial event really took a toll on him. But maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe this was finally his karma being served to him, no matter the circumstances he didn’t like seeing you this upset.

He was going to apologize. Now was the time, even if it was too late he was still going to try, he thought siting back up to face you.

“Mc I-“

“Shut up”

Belphegor felt his mouth snap shut at your command.

Your eyes finally met his, and they were ones filled with pure wrath. So much so that it could even rival Satan’s own.

“I was going to ask you the same thing I asked all of your brothers, but being here in the same room with you has changed my mind” you said.

“You don’t deserve my attention”

As you said that you leaned closer to the Avatar of Sloth as he slouched onto the bench. He appeared to be trying to distance himself from you but you continued to close the gap by towering over him.

“Stay.”

As you issued another command he jolted in place. This version of you was dangerous, he knew that much. But as you continued to stare him down only now did he truly feel helpless.

“I hate you, you know that? It’s because of you that I have panic attacks now. It’s your fault I get so upset. You are dead to me and you always will be.” You exclaimed lifting your hand up.

“I’ll make sure you know just what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted so dearly.”

Reaching out you grabbed his throat with your right hand and squeezed. Belphegor made a choking sound in response as he struggled to breathe. Upon hearing that you put another hand around his neck then pushed him further onto the bench.

Belphegor was scared. He wouldn’t want to admit it but having you choke him without him being able to fight back really did terrify him.

Was this how you felt?

As you continued to squeeze his neck harder he felt himself become lightheaded, but what scared him the most was the look on your face.

You looked so happy.

So….relieved. You finally made him understand what it feels like. Why didn’t you just do this sooner? Well it doesn’t matter in the end, you finally got what you wanted you thought, as a single tear fell from Belphegor’s eye. His vision was becoming blurry but he was still able to make out your last statement before passing out. And it was,

“I am going to kill you”

Next Part

[herejusttosufferalong]

Based on my opinion I feel like L would be the type of guy who wouldn’t try anything unless he had the very explicit green light from N. And I 100% think were N to give it he would immediately go to her.

One thing I noticed in all the interviews is that he always tries so hard to repress what he’s feeling cause he’s quite an open book

He suffers from word vomit and you can tell N has had to corral him several times in interviews.

When he starts to seem a little closed off, look at the context of the situation and you may find the reason as to why.

[comic-book-jawns]

Mine

CW: miscarriage, heavy angst; inspired by the scene from Fleabag

A month ago Kara would never have thought that she’d be counting down the minutes until she could leave a gala Lena was hosting… that she’d have tried to get out of attending the event in the first place.

But that was the thing: she wasn’t attending, she was covering. And, for all her gripes with him, she could admit that Snapper’s refusing to let her handoff the beat she’d been cultivating for literal years was pretty fair.

Of course, his conclusion that being more “detached” from Lena now was an “improvement” had made her want to Kool-Aid Man him through the nearest drywall.

But… it was fine.

She was here. She was doing her job. She just had to get through Lena’s toast, thanking the generous patrons of the Luthor Children’s Hospital and unveiling its new wing dedicated to the treatment of rare congenital conditions.

And then get an exclusive quote for CatCo…

She was so preoccupied running all the scenarios of how that would go — not well, in summary — that she was only just realizing that something was actually wrong.

The guests had corralled over five minutes ago and were starting to get antsy and the lanyard-clad organizers looked harried on the sidelines.

And that was went she heard it. A familiar thrum, an unfamiliar rhythm.

Her heels were all that stopped her from unconsciously speeding into a blur. And she counted it as a win that she didn’t break the door to the women’s room off its hinges. Surely, money could be spared to replace the crushed door stopper and broken wall tiles.

She only just stopped herself from ripping open the stall door. She knew Lena got heavy periods since they used to talk about everything.

Since they used to talk.

And, well, technically Kara hadn’t… needed to be told. Yet another thing Lena had undoubtedly put together by now and resented her for.

The point was Kara could tell — not that she was ever trying to — when it was Lena’s time of the month… and maybe it was, coincidentally. Coincidentally because menstruation did not smell like a crime scene.

Which only left one possibility.

***

Lena had always known her ex-best friend was smart. Truthfully, if she hadn’t been so dedicated to journalism, Lena probably would’ve offered her a job at L-Corp. It would have been a hell of a lot cheaper way for them to work together than what Lena had actually resorted to.

Not that she’d been lying when she’d told Kara she hadn’t bought CatCo as a favor to a friend.

It had been a favor to herself. An act of pure self-indulgence between sticking it to Edge and making Kara happy.

Kara, the once upon time love of her life who was indeed smart. Which was why Lena felt herself deriving perverse amusement from Kara gawking, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically pale, like an 11-year-old boy watching a video in health class.

And then Kara took a step forward, and the reality came crashing down on her.

“Don’t.”

As the threats went, it was far from Lena’s best work. Neither cold and calculating, nor base and bombastic.

“Lena.”

Fortunately, Kara helped her out as only she could. Mortifying as it was, Lena had come to the realization that Kara had always been a trigger for her in a way no one else ever had.

She’d been moved to National City with the dream of working with Supergirl.

She’d rebranded Luthor Corp because Kara had made her reconsidered what she wanted her company stand for.

She’d spent billions of dollars on that fucking tabloid that Kara — unbeknownst to her — wasn’t even working for at the time.

And, of course, she’d shot her brother in the chest because she could live in a world without him but not without her.

Which was still the case. She’d had her chance at Mt. Norquay — that she’d been trying to take it — and the close call had sent her running to heave liter of a coffee.

So, no, Lena did not want Kara dead. But she didn’t want her anywhere near her.

“GET YOUR HANDS. OFF MY MISCARRIAGE.”

Her throat immediately felt scratchy, like she’d been screaming for hours. She supposed rarely speaking at all these days was catching up with her.

So her next words came out a croak. But they made the light extinguish in those blue eyes all the same.

“It’s mine.”

***

After a nine-month sabbatical in Ireland, Lena gave birth at The Tower. They couldn’t exactly entrust a local OB-GYN with the care of a half-Kryptonian newborn.

Not that Alex, or any of them, were an expert either. But, like, Alex had finally started to feel like it all might be okay: Lena resting peacefully and Kara cautiously cradling their baby girl (not having moved any part of her body since Lena had placed Declan in Kara’s arms an hour ago).

“Sam!”

Alex startled at the shout, Kara still in the bedside chair but no longer gazing down adoringly.

Before Alex could ask what was up — and, frankly, why her sister wanted their friend when she was right there — Sam was rushing in, clearly with a similar question of on the tip to her tongue.

“I need you to take her.”

Sam didn’t hesitate, and Kara was immediately on her feet, turning to her. Alex had already assured her sister the team were on standby for any emergencies and was fully prepared to tell her to sit her ass back down.

“She’s bleeding.”

Alex tempered the initial flicker of panic, blazing as it was in the blue eyes looking back at her, before lifting the sheet.

And she then had to bury it in it. Because Kara was wrong.

“Alex!”

Her wife was starting to hemorrhage.

“Kara?”

Lena’s eyes were still closed, but the hand that been resting on her abdomen slid to the edge of the bed, palm up.