#like jfc can these things drop already

[plsleafmelon]

love how when i test against dummy i overkill with a lot to spare and now when im actually doing my meat farming i can accidentally leave 5% of its fucking hp. what the hell.

[hp-hcs]

i see your theo and mattheo are bottoms post so i ask of you BOTTOM 👏🏻 YANDERE 👏🏻 FICS 👏🏻 i'd go feral if you dropped any plsplspls 😭‼️

• smut • hook up boyfriend — yandere! switch! theodore nott x male! switch! toxic! reader

look at this little bottom bitch he’s mine back off

so, my boyfriend proofreads most of my works on here, and i gave him my rough draft for this ask. he then said, and i quote, "jesus christ, [hp-hcs]. you write smut like a nun." and then he took my phone from me. so basically, this is a long winded way of saying that my boyfriend helped me write all the smexy stuff. tell me if I should let him keep helping me or if he's a god awful smut writer who should not be allowed within a hundred feet of my tumblr, mkay?

INCREDIBLY TOXIC READER JFC WHYD I MAKE YOU SUCH A MANIPULATIVE BASTARD IDK

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI, amab reader, switch reader, implied unprotected sex w/ multiple sexual partners (you’re not magic irl. wrap it before you tap it.), lot of power dynamic changes—traditional top dom/bottom sub but also some top sub/bottom dom stuff as well, toxic shit in general, lot of manipulation, pretty mild yandere from theo, degradation, praise

i’m of the opinion that theo would be a bottom/dom just so that he could save face for posterity

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What do you mean I can’t hook up with him?”

“Because you’re already hooking up with me!”

“So? We’re not exclusive, Theodore.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Friends with benefits. That’s it. I’m not beholden to give you my loyalty and undivided attention, dipshit.”

Theo growls and runs a hand through his hair while he paces around his dorm. You lay back on his bed, watching him with a bored expression.

“But he’s my best friend, Y/n!”

“Mhm. He’s also a damn good fuck.”

“I don’t need to know that!”

“Why not? You seem to enjoy fucking your friends, no?” You shrug, stretching out across his bed without a single care. “Maybe you ought to add Matty to your hook up rotation.”

“Matty?”

“Yeah? I’ve got nicknames for all my partners, Teddy-Bear.”

“All?!” Theo splutters. “Well- well, tell me this. Does he even satisfy you? Do you ever think of me when he’s fucking you?”

“He’s the bottom, actually.”

“Wh- huh?”

“He’s the bottom,” you repeat. “Why are you shocked? You’re well aware I’m a switch, Theo. And everyone knows that Mattheo is a Bottom-with-a-capital-B.”

A flame of white-hot jealousy heats up Theo’s skin. He grits his teeth in barely-restrained anger; it’s as if just saying the wrong thing right now would cause him to snap and go hunt down Riddle to put his head on a pike.

“I could be your Bottom-with-a-capital-B. You don’t need Riddle. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Got that?”

You snort. “No offense, Teddy, but I couldn’t see you bottoming in a million years. You’re my top hook up. I’ve got bottom hook ups so that you don’t have to do that.”

He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe it’s high time you teach me how to bottom then. I don’t want you seeing other people. Especially if it’s just because they give you something I’m too chicken to.”

You blink. “Huh. That’s some weirdly endearing possessive dedication, love.”

“I aim to please,” he says dryly, those unnervingly dead eyes of his seeming like they could see inside your soul when he stares at you.

You consider the offer before a wicked grin slowly spreads across your face. “I bet you do, darling.”

~~~

"Sh-shit! Fuck! Y-Y/n, I-"

“You gonna cum, pretty boy? Hm? Already?” He whimpers and nods frantically, his fingers scrabbling for hold on your shoulders and leaving stinging nail-bitten marks across your back.

Your teasing relents a bit at the sight of his blissed-out expression. Theo’s mouth hangs open in ecstasy, his eyes shut tightly and his back arching up from the mattress.

You groan at the sight of him splayed out under you. You grip his cock, reveling in his whimpers, and quickly start jacking him off in time to your thrusts. “C’mon, baby. You can do it. Be a good boy for me.”

His entire body stiffens as he cums with a moan that would make even a Muggle porn star blush.

You groan and start to slow down, but before you can fully pull out, he locks his knees around your hips to keep you in place.

"D-don't you fucking dare. More.”

“More?” You tease gently, hesitant to continue despite his request. “What a fucking slut you are, Teddy-Bear. Insatiable.”

He growls at your hesitance, far too impatient for that kind of bullshit.

He grips your shoulders, his knees tightening around your hips again as he uses all of that hot boy quidditch strength to roll you both over.

You let out a tiny yelp of surprise as he flips you onto your back. He whimpers loudly and moans at the shift in position, having to tuck his face into your neck for a moment while he collects himself.

Your hand moves up to comb your fingers through his hair, but he knocks it away before you can.

He sits up, supporting his weight with his hands flat on your chest, and takes a shaky breath at the shift of positions. “Want you t’ cum too.”

Your hands find his hips and grip them firmly, your breath becoming uneven as he starts to grind back and forth.

You help him raise himself up then lower his body again, listening to his sweet moans. As he finds a steady rhythm, you watch as his thighs begin to tremble.

“Merlin- I’ll never complain about you getting tired while riding me ever again. This is a fucking workout.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re not on the quidditch team for nothing.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

His face darkens.

Maybe he just doesn’t like me bringing up his teammates while we’re literally fucking, you consider. Maybe he-

“How good of a fuck is Riddle anyways, huh? Could he ever ride you like this?”

Ah.

Fuck.

Mattheo’s on the quidditch team as well.

Theo starts moving with passion, roughly slamming down on you. “I asked you a question.”

“G-god- Theo!” You gasp, caught off guard by the sudden influx of sensations.

“Answer me.”

You whine and scratch your short fingernails over his abs, marveling at the pink and red lines that bloom at the surface a half-second later. “C-could never be as good as you, love. Shit- you’re perfect.”

He shivers at the sensation and grins slyly. “Perfect, huh?”

“Perfect,” you repeat, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a slow kiss.

He sighs against your lips, returning the kiss. The sweet moment is cut off by you suddenly jerking your hips up into him and cursing loudly.

“Fuck- you feel so fucking good, babe-”

He gasps and his fingers claw frantically at your shoulders for any kind of support. “Merlin- I’m gonna-”

You watch as Theo’s second orgasm hits him and he goes practically boneless, slumping over on top of you.

He’s spasming around you like mad, and you can’t help but moan loudly when you cum just seconds later.

You both lay there in silence for a moment, trying to catch your breaths. Theo slowly eases himself off of your dick and rolls over to lay beside you.

“What‘s the final verdict?” You grin cheekily after a moment. “You a pillow prince now or nah?”

“Mmm…nah. I think I can settle for the label of switch though.”

“Aha! Welcome to the dark side!”

“Yeah, yeah. Shush. Now, roll over, I’m on top this time.”

~~~

“I heard you’re going steady with someone now.”

“Mm…mhm,” Theo hums an affirmative around the cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupped around the flame of his lighter as he lit it.

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

“Your ex-fuckbuddy.”

“Which one?”

“Y/n.”

Mattheo’s brow furrows. “Y/n? Y/n and I have never slept together.”

Theo suddenly launches into a coughing fit as he chokes on his lungful of smoke. “What?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. I’d hit that in a heartbeat if he offered. But, I’m also like ninety percent sure that you’d kill me if I did that, and I rather enjoy being not-murdered, believe it or not. He is incredibly hot though.”

Theo just stared, his mouth hanging open.

You never slept with Mattheo?

What?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• standalone!! •

i will not be writing a part two!!

[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

-

-

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 

[icallhimjoey]

i really loved the magic of joe hanging out in the bookstore, being his anonymous little self, just reading a book in his armchair, happy to be allowed a warm beverage...................... can we have more of him?

jfc stab me where im softest, why dont you Wordcount: 2.1K

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Little Spoon Reversed

"Please, before you leave," you spoke to Anne who slung an arm into her jean jacket. "Never forget your headphones ever again, please?"

You couldn't finish the question without laughing already. It earned an eye roll from Anne, who then turned to Joe who was sat in his armchair, book in his lap, but eyes on the two of you.

For a short moment Anne gave Joe a look as if to say, this bitch, am I right? But then before she fully committed, she remembered that Joe would likely take your side on this, like he would take your side on... well, anything, basically.

"I'm aware you don't enjoy... people, but–"

"If I can follow your whole conversation about how you enjoy being a little spoon over being a big spoon, you're talking too loud to be allowed on public transport." Anne stated matter of factly.

She stared into space a second and the shuddered. Joe gave you a look of wild concern, smile playing just underneath, and you laughed.

Anne was being Anne and you loved her, and Joe was being Joe and... well.

You liked Joe.

Joe was funny.

Joe made you laugh.

And Joe looked nice. Sat there.

He looked nice sitting there, in your bookstore.

He just... he did.

All soft.

Hair unstyled. Clothes mismatched. Blue of his denim jacket somehow doing something for the colour of his skin.

Nice. Joe looked nice.

The look of him kind of completed the room just by sitting his ass down in your granddad's armchair. You'd make him a coffee in a second. Keep him there for longer.

When Anne turned to look at him, he immediately dropped the facial expression and just gave her a tiny nod. Dryly said, "Nice jacket." which made her notice how they were both wearing a similar one.

Anne scrunched her nose to that, absolutely grossed out by it.

Joe gave you a small smirk that Anne pretended she didn't catch.

"Headphones!" you made big eyes at her, and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand as she turned to leave the store.

Anne's neutral was already negative to begin with, but when she'd walked in that morning, she'd basically carried thunder in her aura and you'd had to stick her in the back to do admin because she couldn't stop going on about her bad morning.

You couldn't take it too seriously though; the reason her morning had been bad was because she had to listen to people talk on a bus.

She was fine.

But Anne was Anne, and after a very ranty first thirty minutes of her shift, throughout the rest of day she would have moments where she'd suddenly shudder, grimace and mutter "Little spoon," under her breath, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd ever heard people talk about in public.

Intimacy? Vile.

You and Joe shared knowing smiles, and Anne already had one foot out the door when Joe called her back.

"Hey, Anne?"

She paused, barely turned her head, and waited for Joe to talk.

"Which one are you?"

Joe saw her frown in confusion, which only made his smirk grow. He was about to piss her off so bad.

"Big spoon or little spoon?"

He was right. You barked a loud laugh as Anne raised her middle finger up at him before the door shut behind her.

"She's so lovely." Joe smiled, and that only made you laugh more as you found your spot behind the counter.

You were never going to tire of how bitchy Joe and Anne could be to each other, all bark no bite.

"She really is." you agreed, laughter turning into a sigh, eyes falling onto clutter left beside the till.

You had work to do; there were piles of books that needed to find their way onto display tables and up onto shelves.

Your eyes flickered from work to Joe, and you noticed he was still looking at you. Sort of dopily staring, still grinning. You liked that denim jacket on him.

Joe looked good.

"What are you reading?"

Joe's eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he fully registered that you'd asked him a question.

"Oh!" he seemed startled by the book in his lap, like he'd forgotten his hands had been holding onto it for the brief moment of distraction. He lifted it up to show you the cover.

You knew what he was reading already, but any excuse for some small talk whilst you sorted through some paperbacks.

"Do you like it?"

"Yea, actually... it's good, it's– it's... relatable? Even though it's not, because none of these things have ever happened to me, but, you know what I mean? Like, I–, I don't know, I get it, I guess... it's... it's just, it's interesting."

Joe stumbled through finding the right words to tell you that, simply, the writing was good, and it made you purse a smile as you sorted through some novels.

"That's good," you stuck a pile of books under an arm. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yea," Joe said, eyes on a page that he then turned, scanning his eyes over the words, but not reading any of them. He was glad he liked it too, but even if the book hadn't been as enjoyable to read as this one was, he still would've enjoyed his time there just the same. It was never about the books for him.

Which was why it was so easy to put it down when he saw you getting ready to climb up a ladder with an armful of them.

He didn't even have to say anything.

Just put his book down on the small sidetable, got up and walked over, hands already held out to take the pile of books from you.

"Sorry," you said, like this was an inconvenience to Joe.

It wasn't.

Joe got to be close to you, fingertips grazing the skin of your arm as he helped you out. Got your hands free so you could actually hold onto the ladder. Safety first.

"I should've maybe done this whilst Anne was still in."

And then he got a close look at your ass as you ascended the ladder just next to him, which wasn't his fault, mind you. You literally hauled it up right into his line of sight.

It had never been about the books for him.

"Are these new ones?" Joe turned his head to read the title of the book on top of the pile before picking it up and handing it to your awaiting open palm.

"No, just ones people take down to have a look at and then leave around. Thanks."

Joe did that a lot.

"Sorry." he said jokingly, taking all blame for the mess.

That made you laugh.

"That's okay. Part of running a bookstore."

It was quiet then for a moment. Just Joe handing you books that you put back into their places. When he passed you the last one, you were about to climb down, but Joe decided he could help for a little longer.

"These ones too?" he rounded the counter like he wasn't allowed to step behind it and pointed at another stack of them.

"Yea," you smiled. "Thanks."

You'd gone well past feeling uncomfortable for accepting a little bit of Joe's help. Joe knew his place when Anne was in, or when there were other customers browsing, but when it was just the two of you inside these shelf-cladded walls, Joe could lend a hand.

You'd tell yourself it was just Joe being nice because you gave him a lot of free coffee.

Joe knew better.

"So, what about you?"

"Hmm?"

You looked down from your spot up on the ladder, and saw how Joe read the title of the book he was about to give you before he outstretched his arm and made eye-contact.

"Big spoon or little spoon?"

Your fingers grazed as you took the book from him and you nearly let a smile escape you, but Joe wasn't smiling and dressed it as casual, but serious question. Like he genuinely wanted to know.

"Um," you pretended to give it a good think. "I'll go for... little spoon I guess."

It helped that you got to faff around with a bunch of paperbacks on a shelf and didn't have to look him in the eye when you asked, "You?"

"Oh," Joe said, frowning like the answer was obvious. "I'm a big fan of both."

This was information that you couldn't Google.

You kind of loved it.

"Yea?"

Another book got passed.

"Oh yea, sometimes, you want to cuddle someone. Other times you want to be cuddled, you know?"

If Anne had still been in, she'd have made a request for someone to shoot her by now.

"Well," you started, feeling brave. "Can I introduce you to," you paused for effect. "Little spoon reversed?"

You were about to reach down for the book Joe was holding up, but he slowly lowered it, staring up at you with big bulging eyes.

"Little spoon what?"

"Reversed." you easily said, smiling and taking a step down to grab the book from Joe's hands.

"Please elaborate." Joe acted like you'd just told him the most shocking piece of information ever.

"It's all in the word. It's being the little spoon," you held up two cupped hands, one turned so the back rested in the other's palm and then turned one, so your palms faced each other. "But reversed."

Joe looked a little mesmerized.

You shrugged and dropped your hands. "Best of both worlds."

"Best of both worlds..." Joe repeated. "Huh."

"You get to hug and be hugged," you said, holding a hand open for another book.

Joe stared into space as he passed it. Thinking.

"Kind of... equal spoons, then," he mused.

"Well, no. Not exactly. There's still a big spoon and a little spoon."

You glanced down and smiled at how Joe seemed to be honestly interested, not at all making fun or being silly about this topic. He was learning.

"Please, elaborate."

"The little spoon is whoever gets to press their face into the neck of the other. Of the big spoon."

Joe's knees nearly gave out at that. It was a crime how casually you'd just said that.

"Yea... no, yea." Joe cleared his throat. "That makes sense."

The bell above the door rang, and you both turned your heads like you'd just been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing. Which was exactly right. Joe didn't work there, you had no business having him help you out like this.

"Good afternoon!" you cheerily exclaimed at the customer that had just walked in, and accepted the last book from Joe's hands.

Joe felt a little silly with how he felt his neck flush at the thought of having you in his bed to cuddle up with. Have your face pressed into the crook of his neck. Or, worse - have his face pressed right into yours.

God.

He was fantasizing about cuddling, getting all hot and bothered.

Was he fourteen years old?

You gave the shelf in front of you a last look before making your way back to the floorboards, ladder held sturdy in place by Joe's hands, and when you were back at eye level, you gave Joe a nod and a smile.

"So...? If you had to choose one?"

Joe tried to hide a smile and looked at his feet for a moment.

"Big spoon or little spooon?"

"I think you've sold me on little spoon reversed."

"Yea?"

"Best of both worlds." Joe said proudly, like he was the one who'd drawn that conclusion himself.

"Hmm. It's a good choice."

"Yea?"

"Yea."

You looked at each other a moment too long, both still with hands on the ladder you were stood next to. In a true moment of weakness, you let your eyes flick down to his neck. To the skin in between the collar of his jacket and, yea all right, so you were imagining it. Like that was your fault. How could you not, exactly?

You saw Joe's throat work as he swallowed, and when your eyes moved back up to meet his, something had changed there.

Maybe Joe shouldn't wear that jacket again, because you felt how your body wanted to sway forward.

Little spoon reversed.

A loud scraping of someone's throat broke the spell.

"Excuse me, um, do you work here?"

Joe smirked just before you pulled your eyes away from him.

Little spoon reversed.

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[gravehags]

dream (a little dream of me)

Pairing: Aether x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: somnophilia (with consent), dry humping, Copia briefly cockblocking, plus size reader, quintessence magic

Words: 1,664

Summary: It's been a long, successful day for you. Perhaps a nighttime visit from a certain Quintessence ghoul will be the cherry on top.

a/n: Hooray for the first fun thing I've written in like a whole ass month jfc!! Once again, a concept that came to me in a dream. A Satanic portent if you will. I am the pythia of the Ghost ministry. All my cirrus x aether x reader lovers...i hope you enjoy that ending lmao

divider by @ghuleh-recs

You don’t remember the last time you were this tired.

You’re already stripping as you push the door to your quarters open, dropping garments on the floor. Making your way into the room, you groan as you remove your bra and fling it somewhere where you think it knocks something over but you’re too exhausted to care. Leaning against the wall you unlace your boots and shimmy out of your trousers and underwear until you’re standing in the middle of the room stark naked and staring lovingly at your bed. You know you should shower, should remove your makeup at the very least but the soft covers of your duvet and fluffy pillows call to you like a siren’s song. Sathanas, what a day. You spent most of it cleaning the chapels and attending Papa Copia at mass, your most favorite task. Your devotion to the Olde One ran true, and attending services always moved you deeply whether you were participating or merely a devout spectator. Vaguely you recall something about Aether texting you earlier in the day, asking you to check in with him when you got back to your room so you fumble around in the pockets of your discarded pants for your phone.

I’m here, very sleepy. Coming over?

You think of the towering form of the ghoul, the way his strong arms encircle you when you bury your face into his chest. The rumble of purrs that come out of him when you rub your hands along his broad back. The sounds you can tease out of him when he’s at his most vulnerable, large hands gripping at your hips and his wonderfully thick cock pulsing inside you. Your lips curl up in a soft grin as you await his response, a rush of warmth spreading from your belly to the apex of your thighs. Before it can truly grow into anything more, your brain reminds you how exhausted you are and you feel the edges of your vision start to blur with the need for sleep. You hesitate only a moment before typing out an additional text.

Gonna go to bed. If you want me you can have me…

He responds right away and you nearly laugh at his eagerness.

On my way over right now

Walking over to your bed with a smile, you plug in your phone to the charger, fling back the covers and crawl in, sighing deeply when your head hits the pillows. The cool sheets and comforting weight of your blankets immediately sets you at ease and before you know it, your heavy eyelids shut and you drift off to sleep.

Twenty minutes have passed since you sent Aether the suggestive text and he is finally at your room after being waylaid by Copia in the hall who, in his peculiar way, began complimenting you and your devotion during the service that day. The conversation went on for far longer than Aether wanted, but finally Copia let him go with a wink and a little elbow-shove about how you’re probably waiting for him. Aether tried not to look too eager when he walked away from Papa, but Copia looked at his retreating back with a suggestive eyebrow waggle all the same. When he opens your door, he’s met with dim lighting and nearly trips on your discarded items of clothing strewn in a trail from the entryway. He smiles fondly when he spies you, bundled up in your blanket and softly snoring, and he immediately begins to strip. When he’s fully nude, he slips in beside you, groaning at the cocoon of warmth you’ve created. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you flush against him, a purr rumbling in his chest when your naked flesh meets his. He gently leans in and nuzzles your hair: you smell like the incense Papa uses in his masses and the unique, sweet, intoxicating scent he’s come to know as you. Unconsciously, his hips shift forward and his half-hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass. You’re so kind, so good to him, always giving and loving. He thinks about the text you sent earlier and a flood of warmth begins to rush through his veins.

If you want me you can have me

He can’t lie, he’s often thought about having you like this. Fucking against you or into you as you sleep, watching you shift and moan even through the haze of slumber. Slowly, he slides one of his large hands up your side, squeezing the meat of your hip briefly before moving over your belly and up to your breasts. When he cups one, thumb brushing over the nipple, you make a small noise in your sleep and shift your hips backwards against him, causing him to groan. He lowers his lips to your shoulder and begins mouthing at the warm skin there, tongue tracing up the curve of your neck as he gently pinches your now hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His cock, now profusely leaking precum onto your skin, ruts against you slowly, every roll of his hips in sync with the movement of his mouth on your flesh. He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible, and with steady, firm movements begins to fuck himself against you. His breath stirs the hairs strewn around the side of your face and his hand abandons your breast to grip at your hip.

“So good for me, even in sleep,” he growls lowly, face buried in your neck. “So fucking soft.”

You’re providing so much pleasure for him, he thinks, but receiving none in return. That simply won’t do. With his hand wrapping around your body to cup the curve of your belly he concentrates his quintessence on your sweet cunt, making you feel the presence of his cock within you even as he ruts against you. He’s sure he’s woken you from your slumber when you let out a long, low moan but your eyes remain shut even as your breathing becomes unsteady. With every thrust, every drag of his cock along your skin he imagines being inside you, stretching you just how you like, the way you clench so tightly around him. He visualizes hitting that glorious sweet spot within you and when he slides his hand down to the juncture of your thighs, he moans loudly when he finds you sopping wet. Even as his phantom cock thrusts inside of you, he toys with your swollen clit, making you whimper and your eyes dart around behind your eyelids. Your breathing comes out in soft pants punctuated with beautiful little mewls as he presses his forehead to the back of your head, concentrating on your softness as his hips begin to jerk forward with more fervor. 

“Fuck, my love,” he groans, fingers sliding through your slick to rub at you, “fuck, you’re perfect. So perfect just - ah! - just for me. My sweet girl.”

He imagines how you must feel, mind drifting through subconscious thoughts even as you’re filled with the stretch of him. He wonders what you dream of, if it’s of him. His thrusts become shorter and faster as you tip your head back against him, mouth hanging open. With a gasp, you moan one word with your back arching, hips bucking into his touch.

“Aether!”

It’s all he needs to drive him over the edge and suddenly he’s coming, hard, all over your ass and lower back. He barely notices that you’re stirring, cheeks flushed and eyes blearily looking at your surroundings as he fucks himself into overstimulation against you. He only stops when your hand shifts behind you and grabs at his hips, stilling him. Sweat slides down his forehead as his seed cools on your skin and you hold him flush against you.

“I’m sorry,” he pants quietly, hoarsely, “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Mmmm don’t be,” you say sleepily, pushing your own hips back to brush against his softening cock. “That was gorgeous.”

He smiles against your hair and tells you not to move as he gets out of bed and heads to your small bathroom. After a moment he returns with a warm, damp washcloth and tends to the mess he’s left on your skin. Half of it has slid off you and onto the sheets - a problem for tomorrow.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he discards the cloth in your hamper. Reaching out, you make a needy grabby hand gesture, beckoning him back to bed. When he slides back in alongside you, you roll over to face him.

“How’d you do that?” you say with a yawn, sleep clearly falling upon you once more.

“Hmm?”

“How were you inside me while…not being inside me? That was…wow.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, “quintessence magic.”

You waggle your eyebrows suggestively and reach up to stroke the base of his horn while his tail pulls you closer under the covers until you’re nestled against his chest.

“Felt amazing,” you whisper, fingers carding through his chest hair, “like being fucked on a cloud. You were so close but still far away. Weird feeling.”

“But you liked it?” Aether asks, looking down on you with his brow furrowed.

“Mmm fuck yes.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Love, the only thing I’m upset about is you not using that magic earlier. You were holding out on me.”

Your eyes are shut but your lips are curled into a mischievous smile and he strokes your hair.

“I’ve got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve. Maybe Cirrus and I will show you…”

You make one last noise - a mix of intrigue and contentment - before sleep overtakes you once more. Aether holds you close, the spade of his tail drifting up and down your leg under the covers.

Before his own eyes slide shut, he reminds himself to thank Papa for including you in his mass today. Maybe he could tire you out more often.

[f0point5]

So i've already seen comments about Kelly going to Paris fashion week, Max is in Italy so that means P was left alone with nannies and how she's not a good mom. But Daniil just posted he's away on holiday yet no one is calling him out??? Yet people have a problem with Kelly calling herself a single parent. like yes everyone involved has said Daniil is involved in her life but he seems to be like my sister's baby daddy a part time parent, he will facetime her during the week and then will sometimes take her the weekend or just pick her up for a couple of hours and drop her off again. Like yes he loves her and is involved but he's still not the full time parental figure

We have no idea who P was with tbh. She could have been with nannies (have none of y’all ever been left with someone while your parents were away or busy jfc it’s actually not unusual or a crime?), or a grandparent, aunt, uncle. We have no idea. It’s not our business either.

People really act like they’re personally invested in the parenting of this child and it’s insane. Firstly you can tell none of them have kids. Second, Penelope very likely already has more opportunities to succeed than any of them and they’re acting like they’ve just seen her in a Oxfam commercial. I’m sure none of their parents were perfect…did they survive or not?

And yeah, idk how present Daniil is in Penelope’s life and honestly it seems like Kelly prefers to have her most of the time, and even if he has her 20% of the time I’m sure he still loves her and is still adding value to her life. She’s obviously a very loved child who has a lot of people in her life who care about her.

But it’s true no one seems to care that her father continues to have a career that takes him away from parenting most the time. Or that he seems to have a very full life full of things that don’t always include his child. And sure we don’t see everything, but we don’t see all of Kelly’s life either but people are more than happy to judge her based on what little they know. The double standard is very real

[dragon-cookies]

Episode 5, here we go. I'm only going into this with slightly higher hopes because Alastor's in it

Charlie and Vaggie share a bed, that's fuckin cute

"I've been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn't working" GIRL it's because you need an actual THERAPIST to help these demons. If you and Angel Dust actually talked it out in episode 4 you might've realized this

"[Lucifer] let the extermination happen to begin with!" Did he??? Because last I heard it sounded solely like a decision by Heaven

Charlie babe I really, REALLY don't think Heaven's going to give a shit if they let Adam keep his status as an angel

Charlie has the contact info for every egg boy that's fuckin CUTE

Why are we making fun of Charlie for having "daddy issues" when Lucifer wasn't a present parent, literally why is this still a trope ugh

Oh cool we're making Lucifer adorkable and silly. I'd normally say it's cute that he and Charlie are so similar but we literally just established he wasn't a great parent to her, so why are we trying to make him funny and relatable

WHY IS HIS RINGTONE FOR CHARLIE CIRCUS MUSIC

Jfc this man sounds and acts like Charlie's brother, nothing about him gives off dad vibes whatsoever

Is God even a thing in this universe?? Charlie talks about wanting to talk to the top of Heaven's ranks yet I haven't heard God be mentioned once

"My daughter wants to see me! Take THAT depression!" motherfucker you are her DAD. You should've been an actual good parent to her if you want her to stick around

Al giving Lucifer the Stink Eye is cracking me up, me too man

"AhAAAAH. Fuck you." Oh Al is MAD mad lmao

"Hoho golly, you like GIRLS" Man knows literally NOTHING about his daughter WOW

Once AGAIN song jumpscare

MAN WHIPPED OUT HIS GOLDEN FIDDLE

"Big talk for someone's who's also on a leash." Oh??? Lore?????? In THIS show??????? Lore that isn't answered 0.2 seconds later?? That's a first lol

As much as I don't like Lucifer I honestly don't really blame him for being hesitant to want sinners to go to Heaven because yeah Heaven seems fuckin awful from all that we've seen of it

"How can [Alastor] have faith in me but my own father can't?" He doesn't though, Al decided to help out with the hotel out of sheer boredom. Love how this show can't even keep its own story straight lmao

Wait DOES Al suddenly care?? When did this happen????

Holy shit the first song to not jumpscare me, that's a first

Oh fuck off this is a good song but once again it feels completely unearned

Fuck OFFF why is this song legitimately so good, this show doesn't deserve to make me emotional

Oh shit Vaggie's a fallen angel I'm gonna call it right now

Okay overall, one of least grating episodes so far. I really hope we see Lucifer actually trying to be more involved in Charlie's life and y'know, actually grow a bit, but I'm not keeping my hopes up. This show is SO immensely frustrating because it keeps giving these tiny scraps of genuine emotion and good storytelling that's just buried amongst sex jokes and swears, and it's just enough to make me want to keep watching. If it were just objectively bad all around I would've just dropped it already. Ugh.

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

Cranky McCrankypants

I've been spending a lot of time on Den of Angels and Instagram. Got an email from Tumblr thanking me for another month of advertising-free payment, and I realized, "Oh, shit. Tumblr."

I am a cranky collector today (again). Sorry.

Things that irritate me (in no particular order):

Scalpers. Oh, sorry - resellers. I remember when "drop-shipping" first became a thing, and everyone and their neighbor paid for those stupid "learn to be a drop-shipper" online courses. I didn't pay it much mind, cuz I wasn't a doll collector back then. Now, I live in Scalper McScalperville. A doll will go on sale at my local store, and by the time I get there, it's gone, and 50 of them are on feeBay for double or triple the price. Message said scalper, and it's all, "Oh, I couldn't possibly let it go for less than list price." Bitch, you paid $10 for that doll, and you're a SAH-soccer-mom looking for some extra pocket money for your nose candy habit. Trying to buy a doll now is a click-war... unless you know the scalper's threshold, and you bid over it. For example, old R&D Susie dolls? Scalpers don't want to pay more than about $40 USD for her, cuz they re-list her for $75. So - bid $75, and you're more likely to get her for $40.

Related: Mattel. You are a multinational corporation that has been around since 1959. Fucking learn logistics, already. JFC.

On a less serious note: plastic. Dear dog, the amount of plastic (and foam and bubble wrap and...) these dolls are packaged in. I get it for playline dolls, but holy shit, for BJDs? You're already charging an arm and a leg for these dolls. Add $50 to the cost already and ship in a reusable cotton bag, FFS. Also, use plain cardboard boxes, please. I can't recycle them once you've put all that fancy foil decoration on there. When you own as many dolls as I do, keeping the boxes makes you look like a hardcore hoarder. If you're keeping the boxers to maintain the resale value, you aren't a collector anyway. You have inventory. Get a warehouse like every other business.

(the hoard)

Doll nudity. It's an inanimate object, FFS. It doesn't care. If you can't handle seeing nudity, the problem is YOU, Becky. People are born nude. They wear clothes to stay warm and protect sensitive bits. Get laid already.

(holy shit, newds!)

The drama blog. I am aware that the mod thinks they're offering some sort of "public service" letting "shy people" confess their opinions. I'm old. We old farts call that "passive-aggressive bullshit." Besides, that's not what the blog is being used for. It's being used by newer doll artists to shit on other newer doll artists. Econ 101, doll artist: if your doll isn't selling as well as you like, it's not cuz of competition. It's because not enough people like your doll. Work on your sculpting. Don't take it personally: Iplehouse is about as old-school as it gets, and their dolls are notoriously shitty posers. Impldoll has been around how long? And they just now released a new body that a lot of collectors like. It takes time and practice to make a very popular doll. So, invest the time, and practice. Don't bitch about how you can't afford to. I knew - personally knew - lawyers who worked days as attorneys and worked nights as stock workers at Target. If a lawyer can get a second job, so can you. Does it suck? Sure. But that's the world we live in, kids.

Phew. I feel better now.

Again, sorry. Needed to get this off my chest.

[invisiblequeen]

Noe Bodi Gameplay: Day 27, Part 2

The first stop for Rain Drop (@riverofjazzsims) in the community area was the food stall. Some tropical fruits only added to her bright mood.

But look, from up yonder...our first neighbor interaction. Look at him go!

Riaan (@wibblywobblytumblywumbly) didn't remember seeing this new girl on his local networking rounds. He'd already declared himself the finest sim in Sulani. But this girl seemed so enchanting, Riaan was no longer sure. He HAD to meet her.

"Hi! I'm Rain!"

"...I'm...Riaan." In his head: our names sound too similar, why is she wearing purple like me, her hands are webbed, dammit she's a mermaid, probably came to rule the town, gotta keep my guard up--

But far from threatening his position, Rain merely asked him to help her build a sand sculpture. Right there in front of the food stall.

....This man has HAD IT.

But they weren't there for long, and the sand sculpture ended up looking perfect.

So teamwork made the dreamwork, therefore they can be friends now, right?

Wrong. Riaan still had this mean mugging look at my girl. And I did not like that.

Rain wasn't perturbed whatsoever. This guy presented a challenge, and Rain likes a challenge.

How about a little siren song?

Honey, that mean mug was ABSENT.

So the rest of their conversation was smooth as butter, and when Rain sent him on his way, he was still floating in a flirty haze.

When Rain returned home, she went straight to making a vegetable platter.

And while she was doing that, Townie Paka'a Uha just decided to ENTER. RAIN'S. HOUSE.

UNINVITED.

UNANNOUNCED.

UNWELCOME.

Now I personally would have been pissed enough to call down a storm as a mermaid. But Rain simply called out, "Yoohoo! Hello there!" And Paka'a came running out like he didn't do anything wrong. "Oh hi miss, I seemed to have gotten lost, I was looking for the shipwreck, blah blah blah--"

And rain said, with a sweet smile, "That's quite alright. Just, you know, never enter my home again. If you want a long and happy life."

He left BIG mad. Ha!

.....WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DOWN THE--

(JFC I gotta figure that bug out ASAP it's weird AF)

ANYWAY, while the BBQ Searer was doing its thing, Rain had the urge to beachcomb. A lot. And she got THREE PIRATE TREASURE MAPS!!!

By the third map, the meal was ready.

And look at this lil pose she made when she entered the house. What a precious pearl.

Anyway, after dinner, she took out the ambergris she found that morning, opened up her handy-dandy Mermaid Tome and started making ambergris wax. Apparently sailors put this on their nets to ward off mermaids. It's not like Rain would ever use this herself, but knowing how the enemy makes their weapons could only keep her safe, even on an island where mermaids are celebrated.

And, oh look. The Mothman (@occultradio) is back again--

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERREE---

Luckily, Rain wouldn't be traumatized by such a sight, because she finally fast asleep. With the windows open and sound and scent of the sea as her lullaby.

[previous] - [next]

[kmze]

Thoughts on 4x13-4x23 TBH I had a lot of fun watching this half! I liked Elena’s no humanity arc and I enjoyed Silas fucking around with everyone and getting inside their heads. I also liked the detours to NYC and the storybook town Katherine compelled. There is some good foreshadowing this half and it was definitely much better than the first half of S4 (at least to me) The worst part was Bonnie’s storyline because of how tragically it ended and that she wasn’t in control of herself for much of it (this season was rough for her, might be her roughest). Also everyone appears to be dumber for plot reasons (or maybe it was just Damon being put in charge too often). Thoughts below!

4x13

The way Rebekah body slammed Elena CTFU!!

Klaus is such an asshole. As much as I have enjoyed some of the Klaus and Caroline scenes this season (my feelings about them have evolved, they are a necessary evil lol) stuff like this will always turn me off about them.

This Forwood scene is both touching and heartbreaking. Caroline reassuring Tyler he did the right thing because he freed the hybrids, and calling him a leader. They’re so great.

Again it's so cruel how the show is handling Beremy in regards to Bonnie. They came back together pretty quickly, which isn't a bad thing because it shows Jeremy has been pining this whole time (which your own fault my guy). However, they are just setting Bonnie up because he's gonna die! All those shirtless muscle grazes for nothing.

Rebekah dropping truth bombs though about how everyone should shut up about taking the moral high ground.

I like that Caroline always finds a way to stay alive! She knew she could use Klaus’ feelings for her against him to cure her, and she doesn’t have to give him anything in return. Adapt or die.

4x14

I am so tired of hearing about the cure already!

These beach/forest island scenes are making me zone out, I have no idea what's going on with this plot and very ready for it to end.

Nah Klaus was being way too nice and forgiving, Tyler and Caroline needed to be quicker figuring that out.

For someone who hates Elena she sure does talk about her ALL THE TIME JFC Rebekah, get a life.

But EL OH EL at Elena trying to get Stefan back to worshipping her by talking about his feelings on being human and when she asks why he didn't tell her he says "because it wasn't about you" BURN!

I like how you can subtly tell its Katherine when she goes to bite the hunter. Elena never would have done that.

Poor Forwood :(

Klaus is so fucking delusional “you know I would never hurt you” you just did less than 24 hours ago!

4x15

Stefan and Caroline have great silent communication.

Sometimes I read Reddit against my better judgement and for some reason they all believe Stefan and Bonnie should have happened. But I’m sorry after 3.5 seasons into this rewatch Stefan doesn’t give a flying fuck about Bonnie! Whatever “friendship” people think was “ignored” does not exist! He basically told Damon to leave her on that island with a 2000 year old psychic immortal because Damon needed to use the sire bond (!!!) on Elena. Bonnie doesn’t really fuck with him either, ever since Grams died she keeps her distance more than I noticed before. I think Bonnie recognizes how much Stefan is a lying liar who lies.

I think that’s why Bonnie ultimately got closer to Damon than she ever did to Stefan. Not that she trusts Damon or even really likes him until S6, but he at least shows her who he is all the time.

Damon and Caroline do not have good silent communication lol.

The crazypants Bonnie scenes are amusing in a scary way during all this heavy stuff.

This was one of the most emotional episodes of this show ever and I mean that in a good way. Nina deserved more accolades for her performance because it’s really heartbreaking, and she does a fantastic job of switching from extremely emotional to “emotionless” humanity off.

The scene where the trio walks out of the house while it’s burning you see Damon and Elena keep walking together but Stefan stays back a bit to look at the house and gets separated from the two of them. I felt like that was foreshadowing that Stefan is going to move on and essentially leave the triangle.

4x16

Wait did Elena just imply Caroline has seen her naked!

Damon’s list of things Klaus sucks at CTFU!

I feel like Stefan always has a vervain needle in his pocket LMFAO! Phone, keys, wallet, vervain needle. It will also endlessly amaze me how often vamps get roofied by vervain needles in broad daylight and just no one cares.

The way NH!Elena stops when she sees Stefan and Caroline dancing and stomps over GREATEST MOMENTS IN TVD HISTORY! I firmly believe this is the first time we see Stefan have his more than friendship feelings for Caroline (the ones that scared him and he pushed away) and actually act on them.

OMG am I ready for Rebekah to go away already!

Klaus and Hayley have ZERO chemistry wow. They definitely get better on TO but this was painful to watch.

Personally I would have told Stefan “not my problem” re: NH!Elena but Caroline is nicer than me. She’s also still kinda falls for his tricks at this point (wait until S6 my friends).

4x17

Love the 1977 flashback mostly for the use of Psycho Killer.

KLEFAROLINE! I can’t believe this is the only episode ever that they all shared scenes at the same time.

Isn’t Shane dead?!? I can’t follow this storyline at all man.

You can always tell how bad the show is treating Bonnie by how bad her wig/hair is and right now it's getting bad again. It looked great with the curtain bangs but the full bangs are a no-go. How this show managed to make Kat Graham look NOT gorgeous on purpose is it's most heinous crime.

I think we can all agree when Klaus said “don’t underestimate the allure of darkness Stefan, even the purest of hearts are drawn to it” it was him propositioning Stefan and Caroline to have a threesome.

I’m really enjoying the NYC scenes and the flashbacks. It’s giving a different feel to the show and I like it, almost the opposite of how it made me feel in the beginning of the season. Maybe we’re transitioning with Elena again but this time it's about having no humanity and hedonism so it's like grimmy, dark and sexy. Also change of scenery once in a while is a good thing.

Klaus pushing Stefan against the tree was way more sexual than the script intended me thinks. Then Caroline rushes over, and that’s why we only got one episode of this throuple, le sigh.

Damn NH!Damon was cold blooded in the flashback with Lexi, I forgot about that.

4x18

Katherine compelling a whole town reminds me of WandaVision now.

Stefan pointing out how incompetent Damon is lol always funny (and true).

NH!Elena intimidating Katherine is GOLD! Nina is having so much fun with this arc and I love that for her.

Damon and Stefan being like “ew” at Katherine and Elijah like they both haven’t slept with her AND her doppelgänger.

Honestly the vial the cure was in did not look like a 2000 year old vial so like again, morons. Damon for some reason thought Katherine was as stupid as him and hide it in the most obvious spot.

NH!Elena is right how fucking stupid is Elijah that he trusted Katherine or believes anything she says EVER. He's just as gullible as his sister.

I’m with Elijah honestly Klaus no one cares about you being tormented, you’re the worst and this is karma. I'm also with him in regards to Rebekah and her insisting on taking the cure, you wouldn't last one day without superpowers, you're just bored and need attention.

4x19

Caroline still got the better dress lol. I do love when she uses men's affections to get herself things.

Silas appearing as everyone was a good villain for this half. Gave everyone an opportunity to play something different, plus there’s always something scary about a shapeshifter especially one that can read your mind.

Bonnie going cray-cray again but even worse her hair and this dull dress WTF?! Like they gave her prom queen but at what cost! I hope Kat burned this wig once she was free from it.

I personally feel like the Steroline prom dance affects Stefan more than Caroline. She maybe feels a little tingle after they share a look but Stefan’s reaction is way more played up. He’s the one who lowers his head like they might kiss and then the breath he takes after. My heart. Love how this becomes such an important moment in their love story, especially for him. He mentions it in his speech about loving her changed his life, and oh yeah his friggin' wedding vows!

See another vervain needle! This guy!

I'm sorry but LMFAO at Klaus talking about humanity saying mockingly "why does this always happen to innocent people" because he's kinda right! Being human in this world would be super lame with all the supernatural power and knowledge they have.

Elijah knows there's a super-powerful immortal psychic who can impersonate people wondering around and he doesn't ask for even a little bit of clarifying information when "Rebekah" says she passed his test. Also he just believes she passed his test? HOW IS HE THIS GULLIBLE?!

4x20

The first scene cracks me up in retrospect like “we three are contractually obligated to be in all episodes so here’s some random dialogue to fill that” LMFAO

MARCEL <333 you beautiful sexy ass hell man, I shall always crackship you with Bonnie Boncel4lyfe

Elijah is just as bad as Stefan when it comes to his brother, like OMG just let that man GO! Some people just don’t want to be saved man.

The Klamille scene when they looking at the painting and discussing it is really nice (plus great song). I know technically he looked at art with Caro first but like Cami actually appreciates art and Caro couldn’t really care less beyond distracting him lol.

4x21

IDK if I can believe Caroline was valedictorian… I mean I don’t think she’s dumb or not determined enough to get it but there is no way she attended enough classes to get it. Sorry show I don’t believe you.

You know Caroline is moving up in the TVD food chain when Matt turns a dig about her from Rebekah into a compliment!

Matt being the trigger for Elena made sense, he got the biggest emotional reaction out of her when she first saw him in the woods. I don’t think Damon got any real emotional reaction out of her tbh, and Stefan got some with her jealousy over Caroline and when he compared her to Katherine. This just proves Matlena should have been endgame like I’ve always said!

4x22

Stefan definitely had Caroline babysitting Elena.

Sorry but I love how everyone doesn’t even entertain the idea Elena could kill Katherine. They are like she’s 500 years old and 500x smarter than you, you will die.

Lexi’s comments are great foreshadowing for Steroline. They are ambiguous enough that they don’t say Stefan has feelings for Caroline but they don’t deny it. Lexi definitely seems to think so though and she's known him for over 100 years so...

I know Katherine and Elena have tons of reasons to want each other dead but it felt like they played it up on purpose this episode and the next one to make them fight and give Katherine the cure. It’s not OOC or anything just feels more manufactured than it needed to be.

I can’t believe they killed Bonnie! I know it’s temporary but JFC she can’t catch a break, this was an awful season half for her. Fuck Julie and Dries.

4x23

I can’t believe they had Stefan graduate LMFAO zero people believe he attended more than 2 classes this whole year.

I like how the Klaroline scene in 4x23 and the Steroline scene in 6x22 work in tandem. I used to view it as a conflict but now I appreciate how they work so well for Caroline. Two hot powerful guys promising her their heart and she gets to choose which one whenever she wants since they both gave an open timeline. It girl behavior!

I don’t think I ever zone out more than when Damon and Elena make one of their yelling love declarations of toxicity. I will never understand their appeal.

Poor Stefan. I do feel a little bad but they did hint all season he was going to be the one to move on and he knew it too. Through a rewatch it’s easy to see the hints and foreshadowing. His scene with Damon where he says he’s “not not happy for you” is great too because that’s what matters to him more in the end.

Human Katherine! Such a great storyline excited for it!

HELLO MY SHADOW SELF

Lines that made me laugh:

Rebekah: You’re like Sherlock Holmes with brain damage (she's annoying but she is funny!)

Elena: You got Lexi’d! (CRYING I swear everyone is funnier without humanity)

Caroline: I don’t know if this is your new weird way of flirting, but it sucks. (her delivery was the best part)

[anhilliator1]

I'll take godawful takes on pokemon for 500, please.

These bad takes just keep coming without fail and it's a goddamn disaster.

/RANT INCOMING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

One of the core themes of Pokemon is literally about how humans and pokemon are meant to work together and how things tend to go wrong if they don't respect you.

Hell, one of the core themes of the movie THIS SCREENSHOT was taken from is that pokemon themselves fight eachother already - not just because of nature taking its course, but because THEY LOVE TO DO IT. This is even supported by the games - friendliness levels will rise in-game if you send them out against Gym leaders and Champions.

That said, it's worth mentioning that they do NOT appreciate being pushed too far - friendship in-game will actually drop if they faint, even moreso if their opponent was over 30 levels above them.

On top of this, it's noted that Pokemon do get stronger by being with a trainer - Not only are there things like friendship evolutions and moves that get stronger with friendship bonds, but there's also a part of the games that I think we tend to overlook because Pokemon is an RPG of sorts - the leveling system. Usually, by the end of the game, the pokemon on your team will be massively overleveled compared to the wild ones that you run into across the game, including members of their own species. There are even a number of rather significant buffs that get applied depending on what level of friendship you have.

It's also worth mentioning that a core part to the franchise is that Pokemon and Trainers must have a level of mutual respect for each other - Obviously, you respect the pokemon's abilities, but it also goes the other way - in the animations, Pokemon have repeatedly disobeyed trainers that they do not respect, and in the event that they do, more often than not they're either in a case of Aristotle's Cave or are just as twisted as the trainer themselves. Hell, PIKACHU notably disobeyed Ash/Satoshi at every single turn up until he defended him from a swarm of attacking Spearow. In-game, this takes the form of how high-leveled pokemon can and will ignore your orders and do something else if you don't have enough badges. One thing that comes to mind is how Espurr and Honedge will react to being touched on their ears and tassel depending on your friendship level - at a low level, they don't care, but at a high friendship level, they will get visibly irritated because they like you and want you to stop doing the equivalent of playing with live grenades.

We also have mega-evolution - it's emphasized that doing so is a painful process, and that a 'mon WILL go berserk without a strong enough bond.

TLDR, if you have a take like this, then you're missing the core theme of pokemon as a whole, jfc.

Hell, Even PALWORLD acknowledges this, as you're going to get better performance out of your base Pals by treating them well rather than acting like Bezos 2.0.

/rant over

[batwynn]

I know not everyone can care about things that don’t effect them personally. I know this, and I try to set my expectations to remember that. I try to remember that not everyone understands, cares, or even knows about some of the bad things out there. That even I miss things, or misunderstand, or don’t know everything about everything. And when I do know a thing, and educating them on it, even as gently as possible, does fuck all: I try to let it go because some people really just aren’t capable of understanding in a way that translates to caring enough to take a stand in the face of not getting something they want.

I try, I really do try to remember these things when I see people walk over hurting people for their own entertainment. When I see things like Netflix make an intentional choice to boost anti-trans ‘comedy’, the CEO specifically saying they love this kind of content and he supports it. And no one drops their Netflix accounts then, only a year later when they start their password bullshit. When JRK puts out a new game where the money funnels back into her anti trans donation funds, where her already highly-regarded, bigoted voice is boosted, and the game is literally openly antisemitic, and people want a ‘pass’ to be able to play because the ‘game looks fun.’ Where disabled people’s lives are at risk, or actually ending because going to Walmart without a mask is more important than not. For literally no fucking reason than that it’s slightly uncomfortable to mask. When a news agency intentionally continues to publish racist articles, leaning harder and harder into it over the years to the point where the majority of the news they publish is purely bigoted, and people still get their news from them and even quote them to their Black friends.

Do you see the common thread? The fact that something a person wants, not needs, usually entertainment, is valued over people’s suffering and sometimes even their lives.

And I’m trying to live with that. I’m trying to live with the fact that a lot of this does directly effect me, and even some people in my life… don’t see it. Don’t have that care-enough-to-make-a-stand in support of even me, never mind communities that deserve their support that aren’t someone they know directly. I really am trying to be understanding and forgiving and let it go let it go let it go. But jfc I’m so fucking angry. I’m so angry at so many people for valuing bullshit over real people. That their wants couldn’t be quelled for even a small, non-essential thing in support of someone else, or even sometimes their own communities. That, in the end, they’re just so fucking selfish.

I’m just… furious. And I’ve tried being quiet about it, and letting it go. But what the actual fuck does that do for anyone other than let people hurt me and others I care about? Fucking grow a back bone and support real people over your wants, or shut the fuck up and stay away from the communities and people you claim you love and support. You don’t belong with us when you side with and support bigots who actively harm other people. The end.

[demonsfate]

Oh my fucking god.... the fudkdjid ball. Can you believe this shit. I played today and got free items and they all suck, everything is ported from TK7 and looks cheap af. All while getting my ass kicked by a fuckng Azucena who STILL does the busted WR move she has (nerfed my ass).... and for some DAMN reason I got matched with a GOD OF DESTRUCTION JUN. I barely got one round out of them with my Mighty Ruler Jun. It wasn't even ranked. It was quick match, why is there no restriction there??? This game stresses you out sometimes like jfc..

I still remember when Twitter shills were actually trying to defend this lol. This was at the time of the store's release. (So talking about the first four outfits available). Which is funny, because even though I was already vocal about what a shitty move selling ports was, virtually... no one said a damn thing. And really? No one continued to say anything until the cyborg suits and fight pass were announced. THEN people finally said something. Which makes me happy but really, nobody shouldn't have stood for ANY of the ports to begin with. I guess maybe people were holding out for hope that the OTHER items wouldn't be ports and it was just a rocky start, or maybe people didn't catch on at first, but then y'know... everyone lost hope when he all realized, yup, third store update and it's still ports. We're never gonna get anything original, huh?

And like this tweet is wrong. These ports AREN'T good enough. A lot of times, as you said, they're very cheap looking, they don't match the game's quality, their textures are OFTEN blurry or stretched, or just lacking BASIC DETAILS. (Jin's Tekken 4 hoodie looks horrible, Xiaoyu's Tekken 4 dress and King's Tekken 2 outfit looks plastic-y, Hwoarang's outfit has blurrier and stretched textures, etc etc)

Like look at this letterman jacket for example...

Why is it all PLASTIC and SHINY looking???? If you look up real letterman jackets, none of them have this texture!!!

I thought the whole point of Tekken 8 was that it's built from the ground up and is supposed to have superior graphics. These Tekken 7 items just look out of place because of this. Do you really want a bunch of clothes that are randomly shiny in your game? It looks weird and it looks bad.

Once you get Azucena, Victor, or Dragunov in the higher ranks, your chances of survival drop to 10% LOL.

That's actually really funny because many players will suggest Quick Match because it's "less stressful" as you can't lose your rank in it. But like??? Every time I play it, I DO match with somebody who's a far higher rank than I am and I end up getting my ass handed to me in a matter of SECONDS. It's like yes, I know playing against higher skilled people can help you improve. But like, I'd rather play against who's a bit better than me - not somebody who's 100x better and can just DEMOLISH me to the point where I can't even see or understand what's happening! It makes me feel like I'm a small kid playing chess against a 73 year old grandmaster who's been doing it all his life lol.

[missyourflight]

some stuff i read and watched in august:

good omens (s2): enjoyed this more than s1 bc i didn't have to spend any time at all w jack whitehall, they're very cute

the righteous gemstones (s3): surprisingly affected by the judy storyline lol, judy/bj a true freak romance long may they reign. i miss these idiots already

tour de france unchained: i got hashtag influenced by @eff41 and i'm so glad, watched most of this mouth agape why would anyone put themselves through this etc 🚴

the borgias (s1): how was this 2011 lol, so many awful wigs, one time a bunch of us met david oakes after a play he was in and he was Such a sweetheart, again the wigs are truly so bad, can you imagine the incest discourse if this came out today

the rules of the game: gosford park 60 years before gosford park existed! rich people!! gonna have to watch more renoir bc some of those tracking shots were Wild

opening night: oh my god gena rowlands. as ever i love stories about putting on a show

a few good men: hadn't seen this in years and it's classic sorkin fun (woof at the end tho lol 🦅), everyone's talking so fast, tom cruise is a Star etc, you can't handle the truth!!!

jerry maguire: again, hadn't seen this in years and i'd remembered it as being way more of a romcom when really it's mostly a sports film. the secret garden needle drop is brutally good and it got me Twice, intresting to think about paired w eyes wide shut in terms of cruise performances where he's desperately trying to cover the Void beneath it all. even though it's nonsense the big romantic moment gets me!!!

please baby please: fun sexy queer, i would not have predicted harry melling would have one of the most interesting post-potter careers lol, andrea riseborough!!! should have been a musical probably!!

nicola dinan, bellies: liked this a lot, the dual pov works at showing you both sides' feelings and flaws in a v empathetic way i think

ann patchett, tom lake: putting on a show!! pairs well with sweet sorrow by david nicholls in the bittersweet theatrical romance nostalgia subgenre. our town isn't as much as a thing over here as it is in the states so i'm very glad i got to see the rx production from a few years back - it was beautiful and it definitely helped to be familiar reading this

adam zmith, deep sniff: a history of poppers and queer futures: got reminded by @baking-soda's foray into poppers discourse that i had this sitting on my kindle lol. an odd but enjoyable read - much more of a personal manifesto for pleasure than i was expecting but i'm all for that, could have done without e.g. the extended tangent about a self-published mystery novel?? the star trek bits can stay

freya marske, a restless truth: love a mystery set entirely on a boat, love an f/f romance that's actually hot (if you have any other recs please share ty)

claire keegan, small things like these: absolutely devastating slip of a novella jfc

also i teared up today listening to adrian lester on the shakespeare unlimited podcast so you should listen if you enjoy that sort of thing!

[tiodolma]

Merlin saying “morgana will just harden arthur and uther’s heart”and him putting the blame on every other magic user who try to uppend the system for making magic look bad while he’s stays safe and hidden behind the castle walls and under the royalty’s protection is so deliciously ironic and hypocritic.

He’s not even piloting some kind of peaceful activism himself. He’s not even showing another means of peaceful revolt. He’s not even stirring up the hearts of people who think like him, that the pendragon heir is the right choice after all. If merlin and like-minded people wanted that change shouldnt it have been better that more people knew about arthur’s destiny with magic? Shouldnt there have been more social pressure on arthur to fulfill that? Why did that information only stay with a chosen very secretive few?

Coz look i get merlin’s motives. He doesnt want an arms struggle. He wants the change to be gradual and a smooth transition. The magic people and the current admin arent ready, etc, etc.

But how are people supposed to slowly change their stance on magic if he also isnt doing anything other than just protecting the pendragon heir without question and without recognition, without hint that magic was a weapon that can be used for safety?

Why do other magic users have to be the one to “show the way” and not him himself? Isn’t merlin just protecting his own ass while the embittered magic folk risk their own lives everyday, exposing themselves and fighting for their right to live everyday? Is it not unfair for merlin to expect good and peaceful things to miraculously happen while he keeps staying in secrecy and relative safety compared to others like him?

Enough of that. Say. He really thinks that protecting the oppressor’s life by playing God again and again is the path to justice is the right thing. Fine.

It’s still not enough. Coz his champion is ignorant and Highly Dismissive of the values he is supposed to represent in Merlin’s head: freedom for magic, fairness, equality. Arthur is stubborn and willfully blind and entrenched in his own prejudices and uprbringing.

Merlin’s tactic of “i’ll tell him whats wrong and hopefully he will listen if not i will sulk and arthur will be upset that im upset so maybe he’ll reconsider but often he will not until he realizes his mistake because bad sht that i warned about already happened then he will begrudgingly do what i told him to in the first place” isnt enough.

Merlin is just one man, he’s a man that is so low in rank compared to his supposed best friend, the head of state, that his words dont really matter until they do and its only usually because of arthur’s bruised ego.

More people should tell Arthur off jfc. The nobility, the masses, the other kingdoms. They should have all been able to apply pressure on Arthur, not just Merlin or Gwen.

Look this is what merlin needed to really spearhead his ideas or wtv bullsht the prophecy entailed

Merlin had to apply pressure on the monarchy on all fronts.

Launch a propaganda machine, spread the word that arthur is going to bring back magic. Like do write ups, spread pamphlets , give the masses smth to think about and do it under a false name, etc.

Collaborate with others who think like him and Not Hide (difficult to do since gaius loves to rat out and help imprison these kind of magic-kin despite him believing in the same prophecy)

Find a way that Arthur hears those rumors, actually drop hints that magic was protecting the kingdom all along. If not Merlin himself, then Arthur must hear those rumors of him being savior of magic from more people.

Find some noble who is sympathetic to their cause at least. (Like how morgana had agravaine and helios... that means powerful people LIKE THAT existed in merlin’s world. It is also possible that somebody out there would have allied with him and give merlin better political backing if he just tried -moot point again cause gaius would just rat them out to the king and advise against it)

Jfc Merlin should just step into his role as kingmaker in the light. I mean he already is one but he is denial.

i get what everyone here is thinking. This is too smart and “manipulative.” This is something like what Morgana and the other magic-folk do.

Then That means the magic folk were already doing so many kinds of protests and machinations to send their own message. The lot of them didnt even need to kill. They played by the rules of kingdom-making and used politics/established social order as a sort of protest to inspire the change they needed.

Example the Unicorn Guy did so much economic damage that people started to doubt the Pendragon dynasty’s claim to power. It was bad for the Pendragons’s image but good news for the magic folk since the ordinary citizens will just turn against the ruling dynasty on their own! That is an example of an effective non-arms struggle btw! It’s smart and a not a lot of people will have to die unecessarily! And it kind of spurred a temporary change of heart for arthur too!

My point is. Merlin. If he really wanted social change. Should have worked smarter and more efficiently. Governmental change will never happen with just one miracle event.

Most of the successful ones happen when the masses AND the ruling class have the same goal. If Arthur was truly a people of the masses and ruling class, then he would try to satisfy their demands in order to prevent riot or defection.

But what do i know? Maybe knowledge and tactics more complicated than “eliminate threat permanently asap” are inherently evil after all.

[mytvd]

can they fly?? is there any other way she could have been yanked vertically like that??

the zooming of the credits sent me

"i predicted obama" "can we still say 'tr*nny mess'?"

the crow on the street signs. watching. observing. the video mentioned that the crow and fog get dropped right away which is already making me so sad.

kai confuses me -- is he really making fun of jeremy for wearing nail polish?? "pete wentz (derogatory)"?? offended at the mention of carson daly?? he and jeremy look equally threatening, is kai supposed to be scarier??

the dramatic sunglasses removal made me wonder if vampires can accidentally compel people by making eye contact. or was it just to look cool

the "chill yourself" clip has been stuck in my mind since i first watched that video and seeing it in context was just ...!

why is bonnie so menacing in that shot????

i'm uneasy seeing pretty much all of these people inside a high school. i have consumed ridiculous amounts of high school media but this is really pushing it

"HAWT-E" lmao

i haven't looked into anything about the production at all but this looks like a really high-budget episode for the first season of any show, especially a teen paranormal romance

that crow noise as she enters the cemetery LMAOOOOO

literally lol'd at [i assume damon] standing by that statue. whoever came up with that shot really ate that day

does elena think "hitchcock" is the movie title

the crow sounds keep startling my cat

there's no way she wouldn't have felt that injury lol

is this the same background music from pll??

matt looks old enough to be kai's dad at this restaurant. no offense to this actor irl -- he just looks tired and his skin looks very dehydrated (vs kai's v moisturized face). why didn't they oil up this man and try another take

"when's the last time you had sex with a puppy?"

i thought it was gonna turn out that elena was lying to jenna, she is dressed for a much different occasion than her friends are

"her mom and dad died" i wonder how many more times this will get stated in this episode (edit: even more than i thought)

it looks like stefan is on a date with all three of them

i had to rewatch this scene because of the background kate bush. i didn't want it to be a cover but wow. the hits!!!

i stan this wardrobe full of diaries!!!

why is this teacher such an asshole

i don't think i ever learned about this kind of hyperlocal town history in school at any point (i also went to a small town southern public high school). i realize it's there for our benefit but lol it seems weird. what actual class is this where on day 2 of school they are learning this information??

mr. tanner quickly became even more of an asshole jfc

why is the closeup of stefan's nose pores comforting to me? (it's bc everyone is airbrushed now)

i love how supportive elena is of bonnie's psychic abilities

elena is v committed to cradling that empty solo cup

where is this?? i know they said "the falls" and i assumed this pavilion in the woods was maybe someone's private property but the bridge with the lights?? where are they lol

holy shit vicki

this is a much fancier woods party spot than the woods party spot i went to in high school. or the cow pasture spot. there are so many coolers, cans, bottles, etc, but no visible litter. wild

how is nobody calling 911 lol like why are all these kids just standing around staring as if nothing has happened?? they would be, at the very least, milling about

the zooms are non-stop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have never seen so many zooms. slow zooms. fast zooms. credit zooms.

i know there are things like civil war flashbacks but i would love a 90s one of stefan in his "grunge look"

jenny called damon "an eyebrow heavy performance" and yeah

i can't believe jeremy is drinking a beer while there are cops in the frame???

i hope we find out more about the competition caroline believes she is in with elena

the fray. i'm time traveling

stefan wanted to "be someone new" so he returned to his small hometown, under his real name, to live in his family home??

i know that almost everyone in a movie/tv show playing a teen or young adult is older than their character but again this show is really pushing my suspension of disbelief re: damon making eye contact with caroline. in this shot just having him facing the camera instead of showing his profile and using less harsh lighting would have done wonders to not make me viscerally react to him flirting with a teenager.

elena in front of this giant un-curtained window in the dark on the cw is so pll

from the video i know the stefan is "seventeen" but i wonder if katherine was also seventeen?? or maybe katherine is older than the brothers, in apparrant age & actual age? i just had the thought, "if stefan is only here to check out elena, why couldn't he have waited until she graduated high school to meet her?" which made me think, "at what point in her physical development would it become clear that she is a doppleganger of katherine? like how young?" there is no enjoyment for me in trying to pick apart the age disparity ethics of vampire teens dating human teens so i am disregarding that for this entire show but the doppleganger thing is weird to me

just remembered from the vpd video that queen bianca lawson is on this show, just like she was on contemporary PLL and predecessor BTVS. the eternal teenager

i was committed to only watching one episode tonight but the next episode is called "the night of the comet." fuck