#yeah i looked away from the game for 2 secs

[noonecareslol]

࣪˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!

𓈒⠀��⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.

He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.

He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.

Yes, In-ho is an old soul.

And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.

Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.

He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.

He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.

He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.

This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.

But this night, this night was different.

It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.

But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.

A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.

The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake

Opening Night November 1st

Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?

Especially when the lead was so pretty.

“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.

A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”

The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.

“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.

She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.

In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.

But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.

The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.

In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.

As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.

He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.

She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.

The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.

A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.

In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”

The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”

In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.

Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.

In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.

He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.

Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.

That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.

You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.

You were perfect as the white swan.

You were perfect.

He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”

The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.

As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.

He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.

And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.

Oh, how he liked this side of you.

Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.

The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.

He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.

He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.

His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.

You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.

You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.

And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.

He’d just wait a little bit longer.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

30 minutes.

The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”

She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.

In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”

He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.

In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.

And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”

She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.

But this time, it wasn't dreamless.

In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.

He had dreamt of you.

And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.

It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"

Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"

Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.

"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.

Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.

Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.

Wait.

You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.

"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.

You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.

She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."

You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.

"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.

Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.

He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.

You plagued his mind.

He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.

He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.

He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.

He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.

Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.

It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.

You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.

And oh my god.

You were down bad.

Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.

You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.

You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.

But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.

And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.

You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.

17, 18, 19, 20.

Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.

21, 22, 23-

You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.

Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."

You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.

In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.

Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.

In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?

But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.

Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.

In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."

For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.

But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"

Your heart shattered.

And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.

In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.

"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.

He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."

You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."

He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"

You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."

In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."

His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.

"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."

You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.

No. More. Dancing.

"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."

The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.

In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.

Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.

You are perfect.

Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.

An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.

Calling it 'love'.

In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?

In-ho was not in love.

...

...

Right?

It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.

He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.

And that made him so confused.

You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.

He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.

His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.

His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.

You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.

You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.

You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.

He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.

He saw you.

Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.

And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.

"Do you want to meet my cat?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.

also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!

@bohemiandelilah @menabuser16 @verouys @speedymagazinewhispers @metalbaby2 @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers

[bokumitra]

“yuuuujiiiii..” you say, poking his cheek with a small pout on your face. you two have been laying there for hours, and not one minute of his attention was directed at you! instead, he was more focused on the (super boring) video game in front of you, it looks like it’s based off that movie series ‘human earthworm’, not that you really cared, though.

“yeah, babe? one sec.” you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard that. giving up on getting his attention, you decide to make your dramatic exit. yujis quick to pause the game and grab your wrist the second you’re out of bed. “where are you going? the game was just getting good!”

“all you’ve been doing is playing that dumb game! i’m bored! i’m gonna go hangout with kugisaki, maybe she’ll appreciate my presence.” you say with your arms crossed, looking away from him. “what!? I do appreciate your presence! come back!” he shouts while tossing the controller back so he can go after you

“want me to burn the game!? i’ll burn it, okay? please stay!” now he’s on his knees, it’s hilarious. but you keep standing your ground anyway and reach for the shoe cupboard, but before your hand can reach it you feel 2 hands on your waist, lifting you over yujis shoulder.

“what the hell!? yuji!! put me down!”

“sorry, babe! i can’t do that. let’s go back to bed, okay? i’ll give you 1 million percent of my attention from now on!” you quit squirming, letting yourself get dragged away.

“fine.. can we still burn the game?”

[kithtaehyung]

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

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

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

-

-

There’s no way.

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

“No fuckin’ way.”

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

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

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

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

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

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

“Play.” 

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

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

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

“And you’re paying me double.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

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

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

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

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

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

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

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

However. 

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

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

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

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

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

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

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you don’t like it one bit. 

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

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

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

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

“What?” 

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

“After what he did to you?” 

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

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

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

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

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

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

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

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

-

-

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

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

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

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

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure? That looked…”

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

Motherfucker. 

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

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

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

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

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

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

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

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

Weird. 

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

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

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

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

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

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

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

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

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

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what!”

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

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

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

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

“Stop and just think for a second—”

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

“Dumb as fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

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

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

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

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

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

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

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

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

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

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

“He was gonna—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

And you mean that. 

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

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

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

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

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

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

-

-

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

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

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

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

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

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

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

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

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

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

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

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

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

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

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

Finally. “Hello.” 

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

“You’re here?” 

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

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

“Not tonight.”

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

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

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

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

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

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

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

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

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

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

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

What did he do, what did he do?

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

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

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

Shit, this is everywhere. 

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

“Stop.”

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

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

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

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

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

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

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

It hurts.

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

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

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

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

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

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

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

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

One more. Two more. Another one here.

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

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

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

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

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

“I still need to—” 

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

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

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

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

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

“You think I’m joking?” 

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

“I say a lot of things.” 

…Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

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

“Do you even know?” 

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

“That’s cus—” 

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

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

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

Fine then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

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

“That’s what I said.” 

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

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

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

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

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

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

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

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

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

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

“Whoa, hold u—” 

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

“Just listen—” 

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

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

“I swear to—” 

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

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

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

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

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

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

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

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

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

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

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

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

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

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

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

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

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

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

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

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

This is liberation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t make me do shit—”

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

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

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

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

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

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

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

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

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

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

“Asshole—” 

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

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

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

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

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

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

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

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

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

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

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

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

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

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

Every. Single. Time. 

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

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

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

“Do it yourself then.” 

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

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

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

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

“Nah.” 

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

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

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

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

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

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

“Then fucking come.” 

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

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

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

“I said again.” 

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

“Yoongi—” 

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

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

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

“Baby.” 

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

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

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

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

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

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

“There you go. Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

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

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

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

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

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

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

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.” 

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

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

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

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

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

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

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

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

“How about we share it.” 

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

“Okay.” 

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

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

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

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

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

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

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scroll, scroll. 

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

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

Scroll, scroll. 

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

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

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

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

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

His eyes. 

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

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

“I love you, doll.”

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

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

No. 

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

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

What?

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

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

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

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

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

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

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

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

He loves you.

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

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

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

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

“It’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

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

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

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

“What—”

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

Again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

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

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

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

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

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

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

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

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

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

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

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

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

All of you.

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

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

Every single stop.

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

Swelling, you already feel close. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

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

Yoongi only grins. 

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

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

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

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

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

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

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

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

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

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

Never close enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi…”

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

“Then… Those three months…”

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

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

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

Oh. That’s news to you. 

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

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

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

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

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

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

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

“What if he does?”

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

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

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

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

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

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

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

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

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

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

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

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

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

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

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

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

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

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

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

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

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

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

“You love it.” 

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

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

“Guess what.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can!” 

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

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

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

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…What?

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

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

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

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

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

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

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

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

-

tbc. :)

-

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

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[foreverisntenough]

A Little 'Act II' SMAU

Jude Bellingham x Reader SMAU | Following the 'Act II' fic

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🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩 PART TWO | Jumping Back In 🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒

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📍Spain | [🎶5% Tint - Travis Scott🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx You know the vibes view all 198 comments…

Winnie.Baby1 Stop hanging without me!!! 😡😡😡 ↳Y/N.xx Only a plane ride away xx User099 Giving pilates & private jet energy in one drop. She’s it y’all. User82 5% tint? More like #5 on RM... Jobebellingham Got you waiting in a lobby? SMH ↳Judebellingham It was five minutes ↳Jobebellingham Long for you tbf… ↳Y/N.xx respectfully disagree 😏 ↳Jobebellingham On the world wide web? About my brother? ↳Judebellingham @/ Y/N.xx 😉 ↳User15 just screamed User37 In the comments and liking in under a minute… bffr User28 The ‘that’s not my man but that’s very much my man’ starter pack User117 Same duffle bags on the same hotel bed ✅ same Hermès blanket ✅ same cocktail ✅ with Trent’s girl ✅ Mirror pic WITH HIM ✅ … Case closed User14 It’s giving context clues WhitneySmith Low key, still sore… ↳Trentarnold66 From what tho 😏 ↳Y/N.xx Under my post… really? ↳Jobebellingham @/Y/N.xx taste of your own User78 GIRL LOL We see the same cocktail from his post Judebellingham Angel. ↳User38 EXCUSE ME?!? ↳User75 I would collapse…. ↳User02 Uh… he really said "Angel." full stop…. User71 So we’re just doing soft-launch olympics now huh??? User00 Madrid just out here subtly becoming the city of love ↳Y/N.xx That'll always be Paris.

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📍Madrid | [🎶Did You See - J Hus🎶]

liked by trentarnold66 and others Judebellingham Lately 🪽 view all 2,034 comments…

WhitneySmith Missed you bae xx ↳ Judebellingham Just leave your man at home next time, yeah? ↳Trentarnold66 @/Judebellingham Unnecessary stray but okay User02 That second slide is literally screaming ‘she’s here’ User45 Soooo the angel comment and now the emoji?? Y/N.xx Who are you on the phone with? ↳Judebellingham 😉 ↳User18 I mean guys come on…. User62 Y’all ever post a carousel and accidentally leak your entire relationship? User38 Slide 3 is giving double date with their girlfriends…. ↳User208 STFFUUUUUU Don’t tell me that! User55 That Hermès blanket looks awfully familiar… 🤨 ↳User89 It’s deffo her under it too…. User90 And you thought we wouldn’t notice the drinks??? Trentarnold66 My Bro 🤝 ↳User64 @/Trentarnold66 tell us what you know? 😭😭😭

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📍Madrid | [🎶Married To The Game - Future🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx Enemies to lovers? view all 387 comments…

User25 OMFG low key…. Is Jude Bellingham punching? JudeBellingham Is this fucking play about us? @/Trentarnold66 ↳WhitneySmith Yes. Yes, it is. Tobybishay Slide 6… do you need us to leave again or?? Louis98 Enlève ce maillot maintenant… NOW ↳Y/N.xx mort de rire User78 You only posted this for clout 🙄 but get your bag girl ig JudeBellingham Didn’t send the 7th slide to me but alright… ↳Use00 So you get texts like that from her 👀 ↳Use185 2 comments? Jude bffr Jobebellingham Photo of T and Whit at dinner has me creasing User90 Icl last slide is the definition of bad gatekeeping. But okay hun, sure. User23 Not the Madrid WAG debut 😭😭 give me a sec WhitneySmith The girls that get it… really do get it ✨ ↳User04 Because… you’re both wags right?!? Tell us the tea girl! User57 The jersey? A double date with TAA and his girl? It’s giving reveal Winnie.Baby1 Fomo… as per 😫 Aurelientchm son porte-bonheur User09 Girl this launch is too soft for the streets and yet too mysterious for the timeline Trentarnold66 That girl with you in slide two tho 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 ↳WhitneySmith ily baby 😘😘😘😘 User09 I’m connecting dots hun… we all are, we all have been User76 Do y’all take applications for fifth wheels or??

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📍Madrid | [🎶John Wayne - A Jah🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others WhitneySmith On a red horse 🚩 Uttf view all 608 comments…

User90 You’re a menace for this subtlety Winnie.Baby1 Answer her facetime T 🤬🤬🤬 User67 Girl I need the full gallery. For research of course. Trentarnold66 You said you wanted to go on a date, didn’t realize it’d be to watch me at work... look good tho baby xx User78 Between this and Y/N.xx post… I need a press release by eod. DeniseBellingham2 Loved seeing you hun xx User73 Oh so this wasn’t just an away game it was a couples trip JudeBellingham Hope you had fun while we worked 🙄 ↳Trentarnold66 @/Judebellingham They think it’s just popcorn and vibes ↳Y/N.xx Is it not? 😭 User711 Jude’s GF reveal was so subtle I had to go to his best friend’s girls ig for it lol User48 Erm…. Anyone else clocking Jude’s comments lately 👀 Ma7ell I’m not saying anything but Imma watch this one unfold 🍿 Y/N.xx My face isn’t even in these but somehow I��m fully exposed ↳WhitneySmith I was your alibi and now I’m your accomplice and I love that for us User56 Is that Jude with her in the last slide or am I spiraling 😭😭 TobyBishay Elite snack selection Whit 🫡

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[🎶 Scorsese Baby Daddy - SZA 🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx Girly Things 🫧 view all 498 comments…

User834 I mean "girly things" and two brothers but ok hun TobyBishay this is why he’s been ignoring me. Got it 👍 Use29 The flowers??!? Girl, is he bothering you? User66 Jude Bellingham, this your girl? Winnie.Baby1 Tag him next time coward 🫶 User5 At least she can drive 😭 Trentarnold66 Chaos merchant with that last slide User777 Who is this… I’m gonna cry. Why is she with them 😭😭😭 User04 Now this is a WAG soft-launch. Subtle. Refined. Dangerous. Judebellingham You left out the slide where I made you breakfast but go off ↳User45 This comment from his main is insane. Judebellingham Still… Unreal, angel. Gotta stop playing with me ↳Y/N.xx No one is playing with you 😉 User17 Her aesthetic + his face = power couple behaviour ↳Use00 Forget him! Go to her profile bc HER FACE!?! User67 You have to stop posting him every 3rd slide like we won’t notice 😭 User99 She said ✨rich girl soft launch✨ and I ate it up WhitneySmith You’re glowing. Must be the Madrid sun. Or the 6’2 baller 😌 ↳Trentarnold66 He’s 6′ 1. Whitney. He's only 6'1. ↳Jobebellingham Definitely 6’1 don’t forget that. User22 She rich, he rich, i’m crying in my uni cafeteria 🧍‍♀️

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📍Madrid | [🎶 Vex- Eight9FLY and Kaytranada 🎶]

liked by trentarnold66 and others Judebellingham Slow mornings in Madrid view all 2,781 comments…

User09 No, because why are you blocking out your lock screen? User22 Are you holding Jobe’s hand in pic 2?!?! LOL ↳Jobebellingham Absolutely not. User74 We already found her @. She’s STUNNING and I’m crying Trentarnold66 @/Y/N.xx how many times did he make you take that "candid" bench pic? ↳Y/N.xx Too many User33 No because this post is hurting me in a personal way 😩 He’s so boyfriend WhitneySmith Tell the Chanel bag and the 84 white roses to text me back ↳ Y/N.xx Check your phone miss girl. I already did 😉 User56 wait. wait. SHE drives a AMG G63 doesn’t she? Y/N.xx Soft boy era huh? ↳Judebellingham you weren’t complaining when you were in that tub from ur ig post… ↳User88 STOP 💀 User45 Someone compare the marble wall from her last ig post to his rn User99 I know a soft-launch when I see one. My FBI training is kicking in. TobyBishay You owe me for keeping things hush while ur out here acting like this…. TobyBishay Silence aint free, yk? ↳Judebellingham Toss ya 500 quid mate ↳TobyBishay 🙄🙄🙄 User782 He’s smiling in that kit pic like he just got off FaceTime with his girl. Not okay. Jobebellingham Love that she lets you outside sometimes, mate User09 Do you think the crop did something? Just tag her OMD.

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[🎶 Yes to Heaven - Lana Del Rey 🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx Heaven is filled with warm light and old frames🪽 view all 478 comments…

User98 She’s pretty AND stylish AND gets Jude?? Unfair. User10 every day i wake up and remember i’m not her 😭 JudeBellingham Heaven looks good on you 🪽 ↳UserR7 can u focus on the season tho bro??? User09 Delete this. I’m going to be ill. Maman103 Tu es le paradis sur terre ma chérie User1 Nah i’m logging off. WhitneySmith It looks like “heaven” is also filled with a certain someone 👀 User22 SO YOU’RE HOLDING JUDE BELLINGHAM’S HAND NOW?!?! Winnie.Baby1 This is why you ghosted our FaceTime. Does heaven not have service?? User76 She’s the one taking his pics I know it 🥲 She’s got the eye AND the man User999 omg I love her aesthetic. She’s giving luxury. I hate how much I like her. Trentanold66 Got him renting out museums…Never call me a melt again @/Judebellingam User09 Finally FOUND HER. Her IG is literally art. No wonder he’s obsessed User15 He’s locked in off the pitch too, huh 🔒 TobyBishay So this is where he disappeared to... Sound. User276 WAIT. That bar pic is the SAME as in Jude’s post. Same chandelier. User89 The timing? It’s HIM. So obvious now. Confirmed.

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📍Madrid | [🎶 Angel Numbers - Chris Brown 🎶]

liked by Y/N.xx and others Judebellingham Vamos 🪽 view all 6,920 comments…

User45 Slide 3… Two people. Two people are in slide 3!!! Trentarnold66 Museum boy now? Never call me a melt again 😤 User22 Vamos at a time like this? Vamos? While I spiral at home? User89 Just @ her OMD. Aurelientchm Vamos? Non, c'est plutôt que je suis occupé ↳Judebellingham sorry mate don’t speak french ↳Aurelientchm non, mais elle oui… Non @/Y/N.xx? User261 Ballon d'Or? Bro’s more focused on boyfriend of the year User344 Posting like it’s aesthetic but you’re actually just down bad JobeBellingham Damn. So you’re artsy now mate? User56 I was really holding out hope he was single 🧍‍♀️ Y/N.xx Are you just going to steal my pic? ↳Judebellingham Maybe just you for another night 😉 ↳User33 Ur actually sick for that reply User788 Not like this… please…🫠 User09 You post more like a model than a midfielder mate User52 Anyone else clocking all the angel hints? The song? The emojis? The comments? Anyone? Literally anyone else?? ↳User22 No same girl… like ??? WhitneySmith Who knew Judey loved art so much! ↳User98 Girl be so fr rn. Just tell us what we already know User899 The song has me on the ledge omfg. User72 You’re both so unserious. She posted the same photo. Be more obvious.

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📍Home | [🎶Pistol - Cigarettes After Sex 🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx Restez chez vous. Prenez soin de vous. view all 1,309 comments…

User834 Don’t you fucking dare like her post…. Trentarnold66 He’s texting me paragraphs don’t worry ↳Winnie.Baby1 He better not be 😠 User00 I’m living knowing he had to google translate that caption ↳User17 Jude if you’re reading this she’s telling everyone to stay safe from brum boys like you User78 you don’t lose girls like this unless you’re stupid or scared ↳Jobebellingham Can confirm stupid ↳WhitneySmith I'll back scared… User94 She’s smoking inside. He’s NOT coming back from this User827 French and heartbroken is dangerous. Be careful Jude 😳 Gabrielderohan1 Toujours aussi belle…Tu me laisses savoir si t'as besoin d’un café ou d’un peu de compagnie xx User111 Let that paint dry but don’t let him back in queen Aurelientchm Carton rouge pour Bellingham. Je t'aime Y/N xx ↳Camavinga Interdiction de jouer au moins 10 matchs 😭 frrr User45 Yikes….Jude liking and unliking… bro’s in the trenches User76 I'll volunteer as your French rebound bébé 🫡 ↳User881 Jude doit être en PLS rn 😭 WhitneySmith You’re sad but you’re still so pretty. It’ll be okay 😘 Maman103 Ne pas fumer chez moi s'il vous plait!!! ❤️❤️❤️ User222 Jude Bellingham I fear you will never recover ↳User91 What happened?!?! Louis98 Même la douleur est belle sur toi, ma sœur xx User677 She’s posted nothing but smoke, wine, and silence. He’s done 🪦 Winnie.Baby1 Never a second option. She is it. JudeBellingham Hope the garden’s still blooming. Said you loved it this time of year x ↳User19 Get out of her comments immediately ↳User17 Got a château, paint, and cigarettes. She’s fine. You’re not. ↳User56 Spiraling confirmed.

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📍Madrid | [🎶Ruby Sparks - Monét Ngo🎶]

liked by trentarnold66 and others Judebellingham Some ghosts don’t knock 🪽 view all 2,034 comments…

User45 you always post when you’re spiralling lmao Jobebellingham bro i KNEW you were down bad but this is cinema fr Trentarnold66 Little late but we’ll take it 🤝 User298 bro u good? Sad boy hours fr Y/N.xx always xx ↳ User75 OMFG they’re back… TobyBishay someone’s back in their loverboy era… User999 STOP the madrid sign & the wine pic MATCH HER POST 😭 User67 “it’s you, always.” i’m in pain WhitneySmith poetry hours I see 👀 User283 men will post like this instead of saying “I’m sorry.” DeniseBellingham2 Just want you two happy hun xx User08 Okay but I just want to know the tea… like what happened??? ↳ User222 FRRRRRR like fill us in. User100 man’s acting like he didn’t score two last weekend. sadness era or soft launch? Winnnie.Baby1 As he should 👏👏👏 User88 I’m late… WHO is the girl in the last photo. who. is. she. Aurélientchm 🤨 un homme amoureux is dangerous… good luck my brother User50 real madrid fans are crying rn and not because of the score

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📍Madrid | [🎶Do I Ever Cross Your Mind - Sombr🎶]

liked by Judebellingham and others Y/N.xx I’m here again view all 2,134 comments…

User834 I’d forgive him too 😫😫😫 Trentarnold66 So you finally answered his calls…. User89 can you both stop being cryptic i’m trying to enjoy my dinner WhitneySmith Thank heaven 🥺 Angel is back. User103 Wait so the war is actually over???? JobeBellingham And….She’s back. User74 All this just to draw to sevilla 😭 User91 You’re both unwell and I fully support it JudeBellingham Never leave my mind 🪽 ↳User20 He’s so obsessed with her 🥺🥺🥺 ↳User8 I’m not even mad anymore… They’re cute. User00 slide 2 and 8… are we okay??? Aurelientchm les amoureux back again I see 👀 User76 the "P.S. I wish you were here" is haunting me actually ↳User17 Who knew he was such a loverboy User111 girl are we grieving or soft-launching bc I am not stable rn ↳User092 ok but the spilled wine has more stability than they do apparently User103 TBH I would jump to go back to Jude too User87 bro Jude was MY man and now he’s feeding HER wine and holding hands in SHADOWS??? Winnie.Baby1 and you said it wasn’t that deep… User14 if pain was pretty… User91 back like he didn’t just break her heart last week lmaoo User700 who’s the shadow hand… Jk we already know hun

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I hope you enjoyed! Be sure to let me know what you think xx

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🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩 Part 3 ⇨ Back For More 🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒

[satoriswife]

Kuroo Tetsurou x F!Reader

Title: “Oh yeah?”

warnings:Y/n and Kuroo just hating each other.

AGED UP (18–19) Sarcastic Flirting. There will also be Smut(Not in this chapter though) Chapter 1 / ?

Chapter 2 , 3 , 4, 5

You had no problems at all with being manager of Nekoma's boys volleyball team.But having to work with someone you despised so much was the worst part of your year.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

You had heard of him in your'e first year. Then had the pleasure of being in all of his classes during 2nd year. He was cocky. Sharp-witted. Too attractive for his own good. He strolls up into your space, arms crossed, looking you up and down like he's assessing whether you are worth his time or not. "So you're the new manager hm?" his lips tilting into a smirk. You lift an unimpressed brow. "And your'e the captain?" "You know I am.Everyone knows I am."

A whistle sounds from the sidelines,a few players snicker and Kuroo scoffs. "Dont be bratty." "Dont you have a job to be doing ?Because I know I do." You tilt your clipboard towards him. "You sure you can handle being a manager?We wouldn't want you to trip over you're own rules."

You hold his stare, refusing to back down from whatever this was. You laugh and take a step closer. "You worry about your'e spikes and job as captain and I'll worry about making sure this team doesn't fall apart because of your lack of discipline. mkay."

Kuroo blinks as you walk away.He was fuming,he let you talk to him like that. Two can play at this game.

-------------------------------------------------------------------- You got along with everyone within the first week.Even Kenma, and that pissed Mr Captain off. "Stop being grumpy Captain." You say grabbing the towel box from the storage room. "Im not a pirate don't fucking call me that." "Will you two stop. Kuroo hurry up."Yaku shouts from the court with the rest of the team. "Yes MOM." "Bro we are the same age Y/n." You watch as Kuroo storms off clearly in a bad mad today.Not that, that was any different from any other day.

Practice went on another few rounds and it was finally the end. Kuroo was making his oh so great captain speech,alongside coach.You waited patiently for kuroo to let you speak but instead started to wrap things up.

"Wait a sec." You say, as the boys turn back. "In 2 weeks I organised a training camp that some other schools including Fukurodani and Karasuno have accepted to take part in. So hope that we can be welcoming and treat them well whilst they stay here for the week." You watch as they all walk off excited. Kuroo stands close leaning into your space checking your notes. "Do you have to breathe into me?" You say pulling away to look at him. "Its called existing.Im just standing here." He grits. "Dile it down abit Cap,wont want you to explode." "You better shut the fuck up yeah." He says about to step closer but noticing Coach still beside him he doesn't.

You knew he wanted to say ‘You’re getting on my nerves.’ Or ‘you’re infuriating.’

And it made you laugh.That you made him react this way.

“Kuroo.” You hear Kenmas honey voice speak. “Are you coming out to dinner with us?Lev forced me to.”

“Uh yea, I’ll be right out.” He says sighing.

“Oh uhh.Y/n..The others dont mind if you come too.”

“Oh Id lov-”

“NO.”

“You dont get to make that decision for me.”

“But Im captain so I say no.”

“Yea i noticed.But Im still going.Im starving Kenma so Id love to!!” You say budging past Kuroos shoulder.

“Brat.” He mutters.

And that was your daily routine.

——————————————————

A/N two different stories in one day?

This Kuroo ff will have longer chapters so be prepared for whats to come.

[amethystarachnid]

Part 2 for A challenge of you (tony stark) . I'm too lazy to rewrite it all, sorry 😅💐

THE CHALLENGE OF YOU - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Summary: You and Tony are now seeing each other, going on dates and everything seems perfect...That is until one date in particular seems to go entirely wrong, is it really all a terrible coincidence ?

ᯓ★ AU: Tony is younger here, like mid to late 20s and is attending an abroad college

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.2k

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The days that follow are an odd mix of ease and tension as you and Tony navigate this fragile new dynamic. True to his word, Tony dials back the teasing, trading his sharp-edged quips for a warmth you’re still getting used to. It feels… nice, working alongside him without the constant undercurrent of competition. There’s a rhythm to your study sessions now, the quiet hum of the library punctuated by the scratch of pens and occasional murmured exchanges of ideas.

And yet, despite the progress, there’s a storm brewing beneath the surface.

You still study with Andrew on occasion—he’s reliable, kind, and easy to talk to, and you’re not about to abandon him just because Tony decided to change his tune. But every time you mention Andrew’s name or leave the library to meet up with him, you can feel the subtle shift in Tony’s demeanor. He tries to hide it, keeps his tone light and his expression neutral, but it’s there in the way his jaw tightens and his pen moves just a little too forcefully across the page.

He never says anything about it, though. Not directly. After all, what claim does he have? You’re not dating. You’re just… figuring things out, right? And yet, there’s an unspoken tension that lingers between you whenever Andrew comes up, a weight neither of you are willing to address.

One evening, the two of you are seated across from each other at your usual spot in the library. The table is littered with papers, textbooks, and Tony’s laptop, which is currently blasting calculations across the screen. You’re halfway through explaining a particularly complex concept when your phone buzzes on the table, Andrew’s name lighting up the screen.

“Sorry, one sec,” you say, picking up the phone. Tony doesn’t respond, but you catch the way his eyes flicker to the screen, his fingers pausing mid-typing.

“Hey, Andrew,” you say, keeping your voice low to avoid disturbing the other students around you. “What’s up?”

Tony doesn’t look at you, but his focus on his laptop seems suddenly forced. His typing resumes, faster this time, the keys clicking loudly in the otherwise quiet space.

You finish the call quickly, promising Andrew you’ll meet him tomorrow to review some notes. When you set the phone down, Tony finally speaks, his tone casual but his words too deliberate. “Andrew again, huh? You two seem pretty tight.”

You glance up, taken aback by the comment. “Yeah, he’s been helping me with some of my projects. Why?”

“No reason,” Tony says, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. “Just an observation.”

There’s a tension in his voice that makes you pause. “Tony, if you have something to say, just say it.”

He finally looks at you, his expression unreadable. “It’s nothing, really. I mean, you can study with whoever you want, right? It’s not like I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if brushing the thought away. “Forget it.”

But you don’t forget it. His words linger in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You want to press him, to force him to admit whatever it is he’s holding back, but something stops you. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in his eyes, or maybe it’s your own uncertainty about where this thing between you is heading. Either way, you let it go—for now.

The next few weeks pass in much the same way. You spend most of your time with Tony, working on projects, sharing ideas, and even grabbing the occasional coffee when study sessions run long. He’s different now—more attentive, more thoughtful. He listens when you speak, really listens, and you find yourself opening up to him in ways you never expected.

But then there are the moments when Andrew’s name comes up, and the cracks in Tony’s facade begin to show. He never outright criticizes Andrew, but his comments become sharper, laced with a jealousy he doesn’t seem to know how to hide.

One afternoon, you’re sitting in a quiet corner of the library, poring over a particularly dense textbook. Tony is next to you, his laptop open but his attention clearly elsewhere. He’s been unusually quiet today, and you finally break the silence.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” you ask, setting your pen down.

Tony looks at you, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weirdly quiet all day. Did something happen?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he’s actually going to tell you. But then he shrugs, forcing a smile. “Nothing happened. Just tired, I guess.”

You don’t believe him, but you decide not to push. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk. Instead, you turn your attention back to your textbook, determined to focus on the task at hand.

But Tony’s mood doesn’t improve, and over the next few days, the tension between you grows. It comes to a head one evening when you’re leaving the library together. The campus is quiet, the sun setting behind the distant hills, and you’re both walking in companionable silence.

Until Tony breaks it.

“So, are you and Andrew… you know?” he asks, his tone casual but his words anything but.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him. “Are we what?”

“Dating,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Or, I don’t know, something like that.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the question. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugs, but his eyes betray him, filled with a vulnerability you haven’t seen before. “I don’t know. You just spend a lot of time with him, and I guess I thought…” He trails off, looking away.

“Tony,” you say, your voice softening. “Andrew and I are just friends. He’s been helping me with some of my work, that’s all.”

He looks back at you, relief flickering across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something else—an emotion you can’t quite place. “Right. Of course. Friends.”

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and charged, before you speak again. “Why does it matter to you, anyway?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then he takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“Because I care about you,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “More than I should, probably. And the thought of you being with someone else—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

But you don’t let him brush it off this time. “Tony…”

He looks at you, his expression torn between hope and fear. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m trying. I’m really trying. I just—” He stops, exhaling shakily. “I just want to be someone you can rely on. Someone you can trust.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. But as you look at him, standing there with his heart in his hands, you realize that maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to take a leap of faith.

“I trust you,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you have to trust me too. Andrew is just a friend, and I need you to believe that.”

Tony nods, his shoulders relaxing as relief washes over him. “I do. I promise.”

As the two of you continue walking, the tension between you begins to ease, replaced by a newfound sense of understanding. It’s not perfect, and there’s still so much left unsaid, but for the first time, you feel like you’re moving in the right direction.

The day Andrew asks you out, you almost don’t see it coming. You’re sitting across from him in a cozy coffee shop near campus, both of you hunched over a shared set of notes as the hum of soft chatter and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the space. The study session had been productive, as usual, filled with your usual easy banter and a rhythm that comes naturally when working together.

You glance at the time on your phone and realize you’ve been at it for nearly two hours. “Wow, time really flew,” you say, closing your notebook. “Thanks for helping me with all of this, Andrew. I think I might actually pass the exam now.”

Andrew laughs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re way too hard on yourself, Y/N. You’re going to ace it. You always do.”

You roll your eyes but smile. “Still, I appreciate the help. I’d probably be in a full-blown panic mode right now if it weren’t for you.”

“Well,” Andrew says, his tone suddenly shifting into something softer, more serious. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. You glance up at him, catching the way he’s looking at you—an intensity in his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You blink, suddenly unsure of where this is going.

“Y/N,” he starts, and his voice is steady but quieter now, like he’s trying to pick his words carefully. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. More than just studying, I mean.”

You freeze, your stomach twisting in realization. Oh no.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Andrew takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “Would you want to go out with me? Like, on a real date?”

Your heart sinks, not because you’re upset at the question, but because you already know your answer, and it’s not the one he’s hoping for.

“Andrew,” you say softly, setting your notebook aside so you can give him your full attention. “I’m really flattered. You’re such a great guy, and I care about you a lot. But I… I don’t think I see you that way.”

You can see the disappointment flash across his face, but he hides it well, offering you a small, understanding nod. “Oh,” he says, his voice steady but quieter. “Yeah. I… I get it.”

You hesitate for a moment before continuing, knowing you owe him the full truth. “I should probably tell you,” you begin, your words careful, “that I’ve been… kind of seeing someone. It’s not really official or anything, but it’s… Tony.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by the revelation, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leans back in his chair, processing your words.

“Tony Stark,” he says after a beat, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “The guy who used to be your academic nemesis?”

You smile faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Andrew exhales, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “Well, I can’t say I saw that coming. But hey, if he makes you happy, then… I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, relief washing over you at his response. “And I really do hope we can still be friends. I’d hate to lose what we have.”

Andrew nods, his smile softening. “We’ll always be friends, Y/N. Don’t worry about that.”

The two of you part ways on good terms, but as you walk back to your dorm, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. You’re relieved that Andrew took it so well, but the weight of what you’ve just admitted—to him and to yourself—lingers in your mind. You’re “kind of” seeing Tony. Is that really what this is? And if it’s not, then what is it?

That question gnaws at you for days, until Tony finally takes the leap himself.

It happens on a quiet evening in the library, the two of you tucked into your usual corner with your laptops and notebooks spread out around you. You’re in the middle of scribbling down a solution to a tricky problem when you notice Tony watching you, his pen idle in his hand.

“What?” you ask, looking up at him.

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing. You’re just… really something, you know that?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Tony says, setting his pen down and leaning forward slightly, “that I think you’re incredible. And I’m kind of kicking myself for not telling you that sooner.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re not entirely sure what to say. “Tony…”

“Let me finish,” he interrupts gently. “I know I’ve screwed up in the past, and I’ve probably given you every reason not to trust me. But I’ve been trying—really trying—to show you that I’m serious about this. About you.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening as his words sink in. There’s no trace of the cocky, self-assured Tony Stark you used to know in this moment. He’s vulnerable, raw, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating to see him like this.

“I want to take you out,” he says, his voice steady but quiet. “On a real date. No games, no jokes—just us. What do you say?”

You’re so taken aback that it takes you a moment to process his words. You’ve been expecting him to say something like this for weeks now, but hearing it out loud is a different story entirely.

“Yes,” you hear yourself say, the word slipping out before you can even think about it. “I’d like that.”

Tony blinks, clearly not expecting you to agree so easily. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you say, laughing softly at his stunned expression. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I guess I thought you’d tell me to go to hell or something.”

“Well, you’ve been on thin ice a few times,” you tease, “but I think you’ve earned it.”

The smile that spreads across Tony’s face is so wide, so unfiltered, that it makes your chest ache in the best way. He looks like he’s just won the lottery, and in a way, you suppose he has.

“I promise I won’t screw this up,” he says, his voice brimming with determination. “It’s going to be the best date of your life.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, your smile matching his.

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into planning the date with the kind of obsessive focus he usually reserves for his projects. He doesn’t tell you much—just that it’s going to be “perfect” and that you should be ready by seven on Saturday night. You don’t press him for details, partly because you’re curious and partly because you trust him.

That trust only grows as you watch him work. He’s meticulous, poring over menus and reservations with a level of care that surprises even you. It’s clear that he’s not just trying to impress you—he’s genuinely invested in making this special, and that realization warms your heart in ways you didn’t think possible.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you’re equal parts nervous and excited. You spend more time than usual getting ready, wanting to look your best without overdoing it. When Tony shows up at your door, dressed sharply in a blazer and holding a single red rose, you can’t help but smile.

“Wow,” he says, his eyes sweeping over you. “You look… amazing.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He offers you his arm, and you take it, letting him lead you out into the evening. You don’t know where you’re going yet, but with Tony by your side, you have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember.

Tony walks you across campus, the two of you chatting easily under the dim glow of the streetlights. You’ve seen him in plenty of settings—studying in the library, arguing in class, even occasionally sulking when you’ve beaten him at something—but this version of Tony Stark feels different. He’s nervous. Or at least, as nervous as someone like Tony Stark can get.

The telltale signs are all there: the way he adjusts his blazer every few minutes, the slight stumble over his words when you compliment his choice of cologne, and the way he glances at you every now and then, as if to make sure you’re still there.

“Alright, so,” he says, leading you toward a sleek black car parked just off campus. “I figured we’d start the night off with something classic. A nice dinner. Nothing too fancy, just, you know… fancy enough to make you think I have some semblance of class.”

You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Tony, I’ve seen your presentation slides. ‘Class’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind.”

“Hey!” he protests, opening the car door for you. “Those slides are a masterpiece of modern chaos theory. You just don’t appreciate the artistry.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” you reply, sliding into the passenger seat.

The car ride is smooth, with Tony’s playlist—a surprising mix of classic rock and low-key jazz—playing softly in the background. He keeps the conversation light, asking about your classes and cracking the occasional joke that’s just self-deprecating enough to make you laugh.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you realize he wasn’t kidding about the “fancy enough” part. It’s an upscale Italian place, the kind with soft lighting and white tablecloths. You glance at him as he holds the door open for you, suddenly wondering how much he’s overthought this.

“Tony,” you say as the host leads you to your table, “you didn’t have to go all out.”

He shrugs, pulling out your chair for you before sitting down across from you. “What can I say? I like to make an impression. Plus, I figured this was the kind of place where the waiters won’t yell at me if I butcher the pronunciation of ‘gnocchi.’”

You laugh, the sound drawing a grin from him that’s equal parts smug and genuinely pleased.

The meal goes surprisingly well. Tony spends the first half of it cracking jokes, most of which land, though a few are met with an exaggerated eye roll from you. He’s trying—really trying—to keep the mood light, and you appreciate the effort. But as the evening goes on, the conversation shifts into something deeper.

He tells you about his family, his complicated relationship with his father, and how he’s always felt like he had to prove himself. You tell him about your own struggles, how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are, and how much it means to you to finally feel like you belong.

By the time dessert arrives—a shared tiramisu, because he insisted it would be “a crime against humanity” for you not to try it—you feel a strange warmth in your chest. You’ve always known Tony was more than just the arrogant genius he pretends to be, but tonight, you’re seeing sides of him you didn’t expect.

“Alright, so, full disclosure,” he says as the two of you finish the last bites of dessert. “I spent, like, an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out what to do tonight. I even Googled ‘how to impress a smart, beautiful girl on a first date.’”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your water. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” he says, grinning. “But hey, at least now I know how to build a birdhouse out of popsicle sticks if this whole date thing goes south.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless.

“Yeah, but you’re smiling, so I must be doing something right.”

By the time he drives you back to campus, the two of you are in high spirits, the awkwardness of the evening’s beginning long forgotten. He walks you to your dorm, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his usual air of confidence tempered by something softer.

“So,” he says when you reach your door, rocking back on his heels. “This is the part where I say something suave and memorable, but I’m kind of drawing a blank here.”

You smile, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t always have to try so hard, Tony. Sometimes less is more.”

“Noted,” he says, his grin turning slightly nervous. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips and then back to your eyes. “Can I—uh—would it be okay if I kissed you?”

The question catches you off guard—not because you weren’t expecting it, but because of the way he asks it, with none of the cocky bravado you’ve come to associate with him. It’s just… him, raw and unguarded, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

He steps closer, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek as he leans in. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, like he’s afraid of messing it up. But as you respond, your arms wrapping around his neck, he deepens it, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

When you finally pull back, you’re both slightly breathless, and Tony’s smile is so wide it’s almost ridiculous.

“Wow,” he says, his voice a little hoarse. “I mean, I knew it would be good, but… wow.”

You laugh, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t ruin the moment, Stark.”

“Right, right,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Moment officially not ruined.”

He steps back, his hands slipping into his pockets as he watches you with a look that’s equal parts awe and adoration. “So… same time next week?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, his grin widening. “Because I already started planning date number two.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. As you step inside your dorm, closing the door behind you, you can’t help but feel like something’s shifted between you and Tony. And for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to see where it leads.

Tony is impossible to ignore in class.

You’re used to his cocky confidence, the way he leans back in his chair as though lectures are just optional background noise to whatever’s going on in his mind. But ever since your date, he’s been… different. Still cocky, still Tony, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you, a glimmer in his eyes when you catch him sneaking glances at you during lessons.

Not that he’s subtle about it.

“Y/N,” he says one day after a particularly heated debate in class where, of course, he had to contradict your every point. You’re gathering your notes, ignoring him as best you can when he leans in close, his voice low enough that no one else can hear. “Am I distracting you?”

You glance up, shooting him a glare that only seems to amuse him further. “No, Tony. You’re annoying me.”

“Same thing,” he replies, flashing you a grin that’s both infuriating and, annoyingly, charming. “If I promise to stop being annoying, will you let me steal a kiss later?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

You shake your head, but your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. He doesn’t miss it, of course, and he walks away looking far too pleased with himself.

It’s a pattern that repeats itself in every class you share. Tony finds a way to sit near you, to tease you, to catch your attention. Sometimes, when the professor isn’t looking, he’ll scribble something ridiculous on a scrap of paper and slide it onto your desk. Other times, he’ll catch your eye from across the room and mouth something like, “Dinner tonight?” or “You’re killing me with that sweater.”

You roll your eyes every time, but there’s a warmth in your chest that’s impossible to ignore.

One afternoon, you’re studying with Andrew in the library. It’s quiet, the two of you seated at a corner table with your books and notes spread out between you. The focus is meant to be on your upcoming exam, but Andrew’s been unusually chatty today.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence as he leans back in his chair. “How’d your date with Tony go?”

You pause mid-sentence, glancing up from your notebook. “My date?”

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “Last week. You left early to get ready, remember? So, how was it?”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little flustered. You hadn’t realized he’d noticed, let alone remembered. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Andrew raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s it?”

You can’t help but laugh at his expression. “Okay, fine. It was more than nice. He was… different. In a good way.”

Andrew nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “Different how?”

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. But Andrew’s been a good friend, and you trust him not to make a big deal out of it. “He was sweet,” you admit. “Not what I expected, honestly. And he’s already planning a second date.”

At that, Andrew sits up straighter. “A second date, huh? When’s that happening?”

“Saturday,” you reply without thinking much of it.

Andrew doesn’t say anything right away, but there’s something in his expression that makes you pause. Before you can ask, though, he changes the subject, diving back into the topic of your study session. You let it go, chalking it up to curiosity.

When Saturday arrives, you find yourself feeling both excited and nervous. The first date had gone so well, but there’s always that lingering worry that it had been a fluke. What if this time things are awkward? What if Tony decides to revert back to his usual over-the-top self and scares you off?

But when he shows up at your door, holding a bouquet of flowers and looking genuinely excited to see you, your nerves start to melt away.

“You ready for this?” he asks, offering you his arm.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, linking your arm with his.

The plan is simple: dinner at a new bistro Tony’s been wanting to try, followed by a movie at the small independent theater downtown. It’s not as extravagant as the first date, but that’s part of why you’re looking forward to it. It feels… normal.

Or at least, it should.

The first sign that something’s off comes during dinner.

Tony had called ahead to reserve a table, but when you arrive, the host tells you there’s no record of his reservation.

“Are you sure?” Tony asks, his brow furrowing as he pulls out his phone. “I spoke to someone two days ago. Stark, party of two.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the host says, looking genuinely apologetic. “We don’t have anything under that name.”

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Just great.”

You touch his arm gently, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, Tony. We’ll just find somewhere else to eat.”

He looks at you, his frustration melting into a sheepish smile. “You’re way too patient with me, you know that?”

The two of you end up grabbing takeout from a nearby food truck and eating on a bench in the park. It’s not the romantic dinner Tony had planned, but you find yourself enjoying it anyway. He’s still Tony—still funny, still charming, still trying a little too hard to impress you—and you can’t help but smile at the effort he’s putting in.

The second sign comes at the theater.

Tony had bought tickets online, but when you get to the box office, they tell you the screening has been canceled due to a technical issue.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony mutters, rubbing his temples.

“It’s not your fault,” you say, trying to reassure him. “We can just do something else.”

“Like what?” he asks, throwing his hands up. “This was supposed to be the perfect date, and now it’s a disaster.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Relax, Stark. You’re overthinking it. I’m having a good time, I promise.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his expression softening.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

By the time Tony walks you back to your dorm, the two of you are laughing uncontrollably over a story he told about one of his childhood escapades.

“And then,” he says, barely able to get the words out through his laughter, “I realized I’d glued my own hand to the table. My dad was furious.”

You clutch your stomach, tears streaming down your face. “How do you even do that?!”

“Pure talent,” he replies, his grin widening.

When you finally reach your door, you turn to face him, still smiling. “Thank you for tonight, Tony. I had a great time.”

“Even though everything went wrong?” he asks, his voice tinged with doubt.

“Especially because everything went wrong,” you say. “It made it more memorable.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” you tease.

He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening. “Can I kiss you again?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you step closer, closing the gap between you as you lean in.

The kiss is slow, tender, and completely unhurried. It’s a moment just for the two of you, free from all the chaos of the evening.

When you finally pull back, Tony’s looking at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“So,” he says, his voice a little breathless. “Third date?”

You smile, your heart full. “Third date.”

The weeks pass in a blur of stolen moments and shared laughter. Tony isn’t perfect—he’s still Tony Stark, after all, with all his quirks and overconfidence—but he’s trying. And for once, he seems to genuinely enjoy being around you, not just competing with you.

The dates have become a regular occurrence. Sometimes it’s dinner at a little diner downtown, other times it’s late-night walks on campus when the world feels quiet and it’s just the two of you. Every once in a while, he’ll surprise you with something elaborate—a picnic in the park, complete with candles and a playlist he made himself (though he won’t admit how long it took to get the songs just right).

You find yourself looking forward to the time you spend together, the easy rhythm you’ve fallen into. Even in class, his teasing has softened. Sure, he still pushes your buttons—he wouldn’t be Tony if he didn’t—but there’s something affectionate about it now, a warmth that wasn’t there before.

Andrew is still a constant presence in your life, though he’s quieter than he used to be. He doesn’t bring up Tony as often, and when he does, it’s usually in passing. You figure he’s made his peace with the situation, and you’re grateful for that.

But then one day, everything shifts.

You and Andrew are in the library, pouring over your notes for an upcoming exam. It’s one of those afternoons where the hours blur together, and you’ve almost forgotten the world outside your textbooks when Andrew clears his throat.

“Hey,” he says, glancing up from his laptop. “Can I show you something?”

You blink, looking up from your notebook. “Sure. What is it?”

He hesitates for a moment before turning his screen toward you. It’s a video, the shaky, low-quality kind that looks like it was taken on someone’s phone. Your stomach twists when you see what’s on it.

Tony, standing in what looks like a club, his arm around some girl you don’t recognize. She’s leaning into him, and then—there it is. He kisses her.

The air seems to leave your lungs.

“Andrew,” you say slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is this?”

“I wasn’t sure if I should show you,” he says, his tone carefully measured. “But I thought you’d want to know. I heard some people talking about it earlier. Apparently, it’s recent.”

Recent. The word echoes in your mind, a lead weight settling in your chest.

You push the laptop away, your hands trembling as you try to focus on your breathing.

“Y/N,” Andrew says gently. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been seeing him, and I didn’t want to believe it either, but—”

“Thank you for telling me,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intend. You stand abruptly, gathering your things. “I… I need to go.”

When you see Tony later that evening, he knows something’s wrong. You’ve never been great at hiding your emotions, and tonight is no exception.

“Hey,” he says, his smile faltering as you approach. “You okay?”

“Don’t,” you snap, your anger bubbling to the surface before you can stop it. “Just don’t.”

Tony looks genuinely confused, his brows furrowing as he tries to figure out what’s going on. “What’s going on? Did I do something?”

You glare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You know what you did.”

He stares at you for a moment, the confusion on his face slowly giving way to frustration. “Okay, clearly I missed something here. Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

You hesitate, the video flashing through your mind again. Part of you doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an explanation, but another part of you knows you won’t get closure unless you do.

“There’s a video,” you say finally, your voice shaking with barely-contained anger. “Of you. Kissing some girl. Apparently, it’s recent.”

Tony blinks, and for a moment, he just looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. And then, to your surprise, he laughs.

You stiffen, your anger flaring even hotter. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “No, I don’t. I think it’s ridiculous because that video isn’t recent. I know the one you’re talking about, Y/N. It’s old. Like, months old. Before you and I even started… whatever this is.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

He steps closer, his expression serious now. “Because I’m telling you. I don’t know who showed you that video or why they said it was recent, but it’s not. I haven’t so much as looked at anyone else since we started seeing each other. You have to believe me.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that this whole thing is just some kind of misunderstanding. But the anger and hurt are still there, clouding your judgment.

“I don’t know, Tony,” you say finally, your voice quiet. “I need to think.”

“Okay,” he says, his tone softer now. “But before you do, can we at least figure out where this came from? Because whoever showed you that video clearly wanted to cause trouble.”

The next day, the two of you confront Andrew together.

He looks surprised when you show up at his dorm, Tony standing just behind you with a look that could kill.

“Y/N,” Andrew says, glancing nervously between the two of you. “What’s going on?”

“I think you know,” you say, crossing your arms.

Tony steps forward, holding up his phone with the video pulled up. “This. Care to explain?”

Andrew’s face pales, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t mean for it to blow up like this.”

“Blow up?” Tony repeats, his voice dangerously low.

“I just…” Andrew hesitates, his gaze shifting to you. “I thought if Y/N saw it, maybe she’d realize you’re not as great as she thinks you are. I didn’t know she’d confront you about it.”

You feel like the ground has been pulled out from under you. “Andrew,” you say, your voice trembling. “Why would you do that?”

He looks down, unable to meet your eyes. “Because I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for months, and it’s been torture watching you fall for him. I thought maybe if you saw who he really is, you’d change your mind.”

Tony steps forward, his jaw tight. “Who I really am? You mean someone who actually cares about her? Someone who doesn’t manipulate her into doubting the people she trusts?”

Andrew flinches but doesn’t argue.

You take a deep breath, trying to process everything. “Andrew, I trusted you. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he says quickly. “I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Well, congratulations,” Tony says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just did.”

You shoot him a warning look, then turn back to Andrew. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I need time to think.”

Andrew nods, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

As you and Tony walk away, the tension between you begins to ease.

“You believe me now?” Tony asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You nod, feeling a pang of guilt for ever doubting him. “Yeah. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

He stops walking, turning to face you. “Hey. Don’t apologize. I get it. If I were in your shoes, I probably would’ve reacted the same way.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his understanding. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime,” he says, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “Now, let’s put this whole mess behind us and focus on what really matters.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Us.”

The days that follow are blissful chaos. With Andrew out of the picture—though you haven’t entirely figured out what to do with that situation yet—you and Tony are free to explore whatever this thing is between you. And oh, does Tony explore.

He plans date after date, each one more absurd or romantic than the last. One week, he surprises you with tickets to a comedy show in the city, where you laugh so hard your sides ache for days. Another week, he insists on taking you stargazing, dragging you out to a secluded field with a telescope and a blanket because, in his words, “Even the stars need an audience to shine for.”

Then there are the funny ones. Like the time he shows up at your dorm with two aprons, a grocery bag filled with ingredients, and an ambitious plan to recreate a Michelin-starred recipe he found online. The result is a hilariously chaotic mess that leaves the kitchen looking like a war zone and you both laughing so hard you’re crying.

“I think we’ve created a new species,” you say, poking at the burnt, unidentifiable mass on the plate in front of you.

Tony grins, unabashed. “I prefer to call it Stark’s Signature Disaster.”

“More like Stark’s Catastrophe,” you tease, and he swipes at you with a dollop of whipped cream, making you yelp and chase him around the kitchen with a handful of flour.

But for every chaotic moment, there are quieter ones too. Nights when he walks you back to your dorm, his arm slung casually over your shoulder as you talk about everything and nothing. Afternoons spent studying together in the library, where he somehow manages to make even the driest subjects feel exciting. Mornings where he shows up with coffee just because he knows you’ve been up late the night before.

You’re not sure when it happens, but somewhere along the way, you realize you’re falling for him. Hard.

One evening, Tony shows up at your dorm unannounced, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Get dressed,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriatingly charming smirk.

You raise an eyebrow, glancing down at your sweatpants and oversized hoodie. “I am dressed.”

He rolls his eyes, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Dressed for public consumption, Y/N. We’re going out.”

“And where exactly are we going?” you ask, crossing your arms as you eye him suspiciously.

“That,” he says, grabbing your coat from the hook and tossing it to you, “is classified information. Now, come on. Chop, chop.”

You sigh but can’t help smiling as you grab your shoes. “This better be good, Stark.”

“Oh, it will be,” he says, his grin widening.

To your surprise, he takes you to a drive-in movie theater—a retro, charming spot you didn’t even know existed. He’s already set up a cozy little area in the back of his car, complete with blankets, pillows, and enough snacks to feed a small army.

“I didn’t know you had such a romantic side,” you tease as you settle into the makeshift nest.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, his voice soft as he leans closer.

The movie is a cheesy old rom-com, but neither of you pay much attention. You’re too busy stealing glances at each other, sharing popcorn, and laughing at Tony’s sarcastic commentary. By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

The dates continue, each one a new adventure. Some are extravagant, like the time he takes you to a rooftop restaurant with a view of the entire city. Others are simple, like when you spend an afternoon at the park, tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks and teasing Tony about his terrible aim.

But no matter what you’re doing, being with him feels… right.

One night, after a particularly romantic date at a candlelit restaurant, he walks you back to your dorm as usual. The air is crisp, the stars bright against the inky sky, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the weather.

As you reach your door, he hesitates, his usual confidence replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice unusually serious.

You tilt your head, studying him. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you. “I’ve been thinking. About us.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Okay…”

“I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m cocky, I’m stubborn, and I have a habit of saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time.”

You smile faintly. “I’m aware.”

“But,” he continues, looking up at you again, “I’m also crazy about you. And I don’t just want to be the guy you go on dates with or study with or kiss sometimes when the mood strikes. I want to be more than that. I want to be your boyfriend. If you’ll have me.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to speak.

Tony Stark, the guy who once made your life a living hell, is standing in front of you, baring his heart in a way you never thought possible.

“I…” You trail off, searching for the right words.

His shoulders tense, as if he’s bracing himself for rejection, and that’s what does it. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way he’s putting himself out there despite all his bravado—it melts away any lingering doubts you might have had.

“Yes,” you say finally, a smile breaking across your face. “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

The relief that washes over him is almost comical. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and grins, his usual cockiness returning in full force.

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’ve got big plans for us, Y/N. Big plans.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” you tease, but your words are cut off as he leans in and kisses you, soft and sweet and perfect.

In that moment, you know you made the right choice.

[poorgirlinpoorworld]

Ideas for gally fics

Pls use them as you please and tag me if you can, im dislectic and english is not my first language so i really cant write but i love to read them - im new to the fandom so pls send help send love and send nud-

- gally and you are together for some time, you didnt announce it but everybody knew. That day u noticed that boys are smirking in your direction all day, joking under their noses and then looking away. First u tried to ignore it, but one time u catch one of the gladers after looking at you, looking in the direction you knew well - builders working station. And then you saw him… gally, choping wood without a shirt. It wasnt anything new, but when he turn around so u could see all his back you felt as your face started to become red end hot from embarasment. On his back were very visiable still fresh red scraches from last night you spent togheter… and everybody saw them. And something about y/n going to tell him to cover up but he started smirking liking that other boys could see them

- i would love to read gally pov or third pov idk about moments after y/n and thomas with boys left glade to search for exit, when he stayd but couldnt imagine to live without y/n something like i watchd them leave, watchd her leave but i was just standing there looking at the doors i dont know how long hoping for dont know what. Others who stayd with me started working organazing cleaning anything just to do something but i couldnt, i was just standing there. But when i heard screams, my body moved without thinking, just bolted straight through the doors, through the maze. I felt pain in my legs in my lungs in my stomatch.. but the worst pain i felt in my heart with every scream i heard. I didnt know where i was going but i had to find her to tell her im sorry, that i love her, that i want to be with her forever And then he saw a griever got stung and the rest everybody knows

- i love true or dare in glade fics y/n was sunshine of the glade, everybody loved her, some like friend but some more. She was always smiling and laughing, she was warm to anyone and would help anyone in glade. So ofc even the most grupmy gally fell for her. One time on bonfire night some gladers were playing true or dare, small group of friend - y/n, newt, fry, winston, zart, clint, jeff and minho who came up with the idea of playing. Others either were already asleep or were watching ring, in witch gally was curently fighting Ben. After some time of playing it was minho turn „y/n true or dare” he said looking at y/n. „Dare” she said with wide smile, „I dare you to choose i person from our group to kiss” minho said with a smirk on his lips. Y/n was stunt for a sec but then she said „you didnt presice from witch group i can choose soooo in reality i can choose from all group of gladers?” She knew what he meant, he wanted her to choose from players of the game but there was only one boy she wanted to kiss so if she have to bend the rules a little bit so be it. Before Minho could object y/n was already walking toward the ring. „Gally can you come over for a sec?” y/n said looking at the builder who just won a fight. „Yeah, whats up?” he said trying not to look to happy that she was talking to him. When he came over to stand in front of her she said „can you bend over a little?”. He gave her questioning look, but he was a lot taller than her so he did as she askd. Just as his face was just centimeters from her she said almost wispering „i hope you wont be angry at me”. „Why would I-„ but before he could finish she stood on her toes to close the gap between them and then kissed him. And here i see two endings, 1. She said to him it was dare but that she likes him and always wanted to kiss him, he is happy so happy he hugs her swirl around and the live happy ever after, 2. She said to him it was a dare but before she could explain to him that SHE choose him bc she likes him he gets mad, he asumes that was some sort of a joke kiss the grupmy and then lough at him he screams at her, she cries then he leaves, some time later someone help him realize what really happen and he tries to apology to her, he says to her hat he always liked her but he is insecure, she forgive him, then they kiss again and live happy ever after

- last one and here i put warning: torture and suicide Its like at the end of Scotch trials (movies) when wicked takes minho but they take y/n instead or they take both idk, they dont put her with everyone else but with berg the fly her straight to last city and starts experiments on her right away. When she expirence the tortures of seeing deaths of her friends day after day after day she was capable to find a „loop hole” in simulation, just sec after they put her in state of halucination, just before she was about to see another death she would commit suicide which would crash simulation. But wicked still tried every day for months, so all this time every day she would commit suicide in all sorta of ways. And here i would see gally with his new group being caught by wicked or something like that, he would be transporter to cells by guards and when they pass someone olso being transported by guards he could not believe, it was… her. But she looked like ghost of herself and it broke his heart. Then i would put some history how the escape with someone help and how gally rescured her. But at base they wouldn’t just have happy ending together. She was destroyed by months of killing herself… and because simulations were so real to her she would constantly have panic attacks that she still in lab and tried to kill herself to stop simulation. And only Gally would calm her down. after two or three months Thomas and others would come and story would continue

It’s my first time writing anything in english so dont hate

[smittywing]

Marriage 101: Part 4

Earlier parts here or on AO3: 1 | 2 | 3

And without further ado:

“Are you cooking?” Tim asked Jason, who was in the kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans and ground beef and tomatoes and Tupperware.

“Gosh,” Jason deadpanned, cleaving an onion in half with a bang. “It’s like you were trained by the World’s Greatest Detective.”

Tim shut his mouth in his next question, which was going to be <i>what</i> Jason was cooking, and surveyed the ingredients. Ground beef, chopped onions, tomatoes - “Chili?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah and if you want any, you’d better get in here and get to work,” Jason suggested. 

His tone was only slightly menacing but Tim got in there and said gamely, “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

“These onions aren't going to chop themselves,” Jason said, sliding the cutting board in front of Tim. He turned to the stove and started unpacking the ground beef. 

“Okay, cool,” Tim said to hype himself up. Then he searched YouTube for an onion cutting tutorial. 

“Are you for real?” Jason asked as Tim watched it on 1.5 speed. “Have you never had to cut an onion before?”

“It turns out it's much safer to let your kids microwave their meals instead of letting 9-year-olds use butcher knives and gas stoves, “ Tim said mildly and started making clockwise cuts through the onion like the person in the video. 

At the first cut, Tim’s sinuses ached. He winced, eyes burning. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist and tried to open them to look where he was cutting. <i>Tear gas</i> he realized, slamming the knife down. How had it gotten in his kitchen?

“Jason,” he shouted. He couldn’t see but Jason had only been a few steps away. He reached out - 

Jason was laughing like this was fucking hilarious.

“What the fuck?” Tim managed. He staggered sideways and the burn in his eyelids eased a little.

“Whoa, kid.” Jason’s big hands clasped Tim’s shoulders. “C’mon,” he laughed. “There’s no crying in cooking!”

“Ha,” Tim said, squinting up at him with watering eyes. “What?”

“The onions did you in,” Jason said. “Hold on a sec.”

Tim pried his eyes open wide enough to see light and then squeezed them shut again.

“Here.” Jason pressed a damp cloth to Tim’s face. The burn eased and finally Tim was able to shutter his eyes open. Jason grinned ruefully at him. “You okay?”

“Ugh,” Tim said. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

Jason shrugged. “It doesn’t hit everyone like that.”

“Oh, I’m just lucky.” Tim dabbed at his eyes and glared at the offending vegetable on the counter.

“If you take over the beef, I’ll finish the onion,” Jason offered.

“Maybe,” Tim caged. “What’s it gonna do to me?”

“The worst it’ll do is burn if you don’t keep it moving,” Jason told him.

Tim took over stirring the ground beef and breaking up the pieces. He watched from a safe distance as Jason sliced up the onion and started in on a green pepper.

“Did you pick this up from Alfred?” he asked, shoving the ground beef around the pan.

“Some of it,” Jason said, scooping the onion and pepper into the stock pot and slicing into the tomatoes. “I sometimes made stuff when my mom wasn’t feeling well. Most of it came out of a can, though. Alfred taught me about real food.”

There was an awkward silence as Tim realized this was the most Jason had ever said about his childhood in Tim’s company. He poked at the ground beef.  “When I was a kid, we had a cook named Mrs. Mac. Mrs. McIlvaine. Everything she made seemed to be a casserole. Except lasagna. She made a really good lasagna.”

“Isn’t lasagna kind of a casserole, too?” Jason asked, taking the pan of beef away from Tim and draining it in the sink before scraping it into the stock pot.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tim said after due consideration.

“What happened to her?” Jason asked. He glanced over at Tim as he was adding chili powder and Tim wondered if he should be concerned that Jason didn’t feel the need to use measuring spoons.

“My dad had to let her go when he declared bankruptcy,” Tim admitted. “She went back to Ireland to live with her sister.”

“That sucks,” Jason declared, moving on to a half dozen other spices. “What’s it like going from riches to rags?”

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Tim said because for him what came later was so much worse. “We moved to an apartment downtown but we were only there a few months before - “ He shrugged. “And then I lived with Bruce full-time before I bought the Nest.”

Jason slowed in his stirring of the chili.  “Yeah. I always thought you were lucky, having parents longer than any of the rest of us. But what happened to your dad was shitty.”

“Thanks,” Tim said, because that was actually pretty empathetic for Jason. 

“Here, taste this,” Jason said, shoving a spoon in Tim’s face. Sharing time was apparently over.

Tim mouthed the chili from the spoon. “Needs more garlic,” he said.

“It doesn’t even - “ Jason stopped and dipped the spoon back in the chili. Tim winced, but only a little. Whatever finally took him down, it wasn’t going to be his own germs. Jason stuck the spoon in his mouth.

“You’re right,” he declared, and Tim shrugged, trying not to be too pleased.

$

It was weirdly easy to avoid Bruce these days. The most important thing to remember was to not be weird about it. Tim showed up for roll call and patrol assignments, showed up for work at Wayne Enterprises, showed for training. 

He made it through August and most of September in this fashion, and then Bruce said,

“Tim, you're with me, tonight.”

Stephanie kicked him in the ankle.

“Ooh, what did you do?” she stage-whispered and Tim played his part, rolling his eyes and hissing back,

“Nothing!” He kicked her ankle for good measure and tried to look innocent and attentive when Bruce glanced back their way.

When everyone split up to go their separate ways, Tim drifted over to Bruce’s side.

Jason hadn't shown up that night, not that Tim was surprised. He had his territory and he didn't need to be told to patrol it. There was no citywide emergency thus far and no reason for Jason to be hanging around. But if Tim was going to get called out on his marriage of convenience, he wanted his co-husband along for the ride.

<i>Don’t be weird,</i> he reminded himself and lingered in Bruce's shadow.

Bruce kept it broodingly silent as they got into the Batmobile and accelerated quickly through the long tunnel that took them out to Gotham proper. Tim, who paid attention to the briefings, made a pertinent remark about the night’s stakeout plan and received an approving nod.

“I haven't seen much of you since classes started,” Bruce finally said. “I know you've been busy. Do you need anything off your plate?”

“What? No!” Tim’s brain raced through his to-do list and tried to remember if there were any balls he'd dropped. Maybe he didn't always do all his reading and maybe he was a few HR trainings behind at WE but his case files were up-to-date and he hadn't been taken hostage in literal months. 

“It's not a criticism,” Bruce said mildly. “It's just a matter of delegating some of the responsibilities you've outgrown if necessary.”

“Oh, um, no,” Tim said. “I mean, there's that ethics training I haven't done yet but - “

“I’ll make that go away,” Bruce said. 

“It’s <i>ethics</i> training,” Tim protested. “I’ll…just play it in the background while I’m in a meeting or something.”

Batman side-eyed him. “Tim,” he intoned. “It’s <i>ethics</i> training.” The corner of his mouth twitched and Tim knew he was good to let out the laugh that had been lurking behind his poker face. Bruce didn’t seem to have any unusual suspicions about his marital state. Good.

“What about next week’s board meeting?” Bruce asked. “I can ask Lucius to cover it if you need.”

“I got it,” Tim said confidently. This was the one thing he shared with Bruce that was just his. Dick wasn’t interested in the business and Jason could care less - at least Tim assumed he could care less. He was starting to question his assumptions about Jason these days. Damian had tried to insert himself into the workings of Wayne Enterprises but middle school had (thankfully) diverted his attention.

“Hm.” There was silence while they surveyed the streets of Gotham and then Bruce said, “I’ve heard Jason has been taking classes, too.”

Tim was used to long silences. He worked with Batman, after all. He knew long silences were designed to make people want to fill them. So he would. But carefully.

“We actually have a freshman English class together,” he said casually. “I gave him a key to the Nest in case he wants to crash.” In case he wanted to crash every weeknight so far. 

“That’s generous of you,” Bruce said slowly. “So you and Jason are getting along?”

“More or less.” Then, before Bruce could express any sort of concern - “More, really. He’s pretty chill when it comes to class.”

“Hm.” Bruce’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a quirk, not quite a concession to a smile but Tim could tell he was pleased. “And you?” he asked. “Getting all your reading done?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tim scoffed. “Absolutely.”

$

Between his day job and his night job and school and being married to Jason - which didn’t actually take up any time but was hell on his concentration - Tim hadn’t gotten around to the assigned reading. He wasn’t worried though. He’d read The Great Gatsby when he was a freshman and he had good recall.

“Mr. Drake, what did you make of the subtextual indications of Nick’s homosexual experience?”

“The what?” Tim answered, because he sure as hell did not recall gay sex in The Great Gatsby.

“Ha!” Jason said from the next desk over. “I knew you missed that when we were talking about it last night. What did you <i>think</i> he and Mr. McKee were doing in their underwear, looking at pictures?”

Tim’s mind raced, landing on the party scene. “Holy shit.”

“While Mr. Drake digests this revelation,” Professor Worthington said dryly, “Mr. Peterson, please elaborate.”

“McKee comes with a wife,” Jason said, “but doesn’t go home with her. The last we see of her, she’s doing something with Myrtle’s roommate, who is the obvious pairing for Nick. Instead he takes Nick to his apartment, there’s a time skip, McKee’s in bed in his underwear, another time skip and Nick’s in Penn Station.”

“To what purpose?” Worthington asked. 

“Small-scale, to establish Nick as an unreliable narrator,” Jason says, his words coming fast with his thoughts. “He claimed to be an honest man but here he’s lying by omission, he’s skipping time on purpose, leaving things out.”

“And broad-scale?” Worthington prompts. 

“It calls into question the entire narrative,” Jason said. “Nick’s in love with Gatsby and sees him through rose-colored glasses, paralleling how Gatsby sees Daisy. Everything is built on perception, everything is artificial, even the perspective of the text itself.”

<i>This</i>, Tim realized, staring at Jason’s mouth. This was why he had married Jason in a court clerk’s office, hacked into the university system to put himself in a class he otherwise never would have taken, actually showed up for class. To have the chance to watch Jason argue passionately about the role of gay subtext in a narrative that was otherwise pretty PG. He wanted to crawl into Jason’s lap and kiss the words out of his mouth. 

“Okay,” another student piped up. “But last week you were saying that Jay and Nick were the same person, like in Fight Club. If Nick’s gay, why is Gatsby in love with Daisy?”

“Because Nick’s the truth and Gatsby’s the lie,” Jason shot back, turning slightly in his seat and Tim bit his lip against the sigh that wanted to escape when the muscles in Jason’s shoulders bunched under his shirt. “Nick’s a failure to his family - 25, busted career, still single. But he has this, this ideal in his head, of what people want, and it’s Gatsby. Made his money illegally, but he’s still respectable, a man about town, fancy parties, the works.”

“So you’re saying,” said another girl, “that Daisy’s a beard?”

“More like a delusion.” Jason shrugged. “She’s an ideal, too, unattainable, which means he won’t ever actually have to fuck - uh, sleep with her.”

“But he’s attracted to Jordan,” someone protested as the bell rang. “Maybe he’s bi?”

Jason snorted. “Jordan’s built like Tim,” he said, glancing over. Tim tried to look casual. “She has a boy’s name, and she’s a professional athlete in the 1920s. She’s the beard.”

“We’ll pick this up on Thursday,” Professor Worthington cut in. “Good discussion. Mr. Drake, please have your husband explain the nuances of subtext to you.”

Tim flushed. “I just - “

“He’s an engineer at heart,” Jason said, suddenly in his space and resting a big, warm, hand on the back of Tim’s neck. “He likes plain meaning.”

“I like subtext,” Tim protested, but Jason just laughed and Professor Worthington smirked. 

“I like noodles,” Jason said. “Let’s get Thai for dinner.”

“Is that subtext?” Tim demanded, only half joking. 

“Not in front of the teacher,” Jason chided softly and crap, maybe it actually was subtext.

Jason nudged Tim out of the classroom and tangled their fingers together as they walked down the hall. “Did you even read the book?” He asked when they were out of Professor Worthington’s earshot. 

“Yes,” Tim insisted mulishly. “Just. It’s been a while.”

“You’re eighteen,” Jason pointed out. “What’s a while?”

“Like three years,” Tim mumbled. 

“Oh baby bird,” Jason said, voice pitched low, “even I knew whose lever Nick was pulling when I was fifteen.”

$

There’s minimal subtext in pad thai, but Tim has trouble keeping his eyes off Jason’s lips when they purse around the ends of his noodles. 

“Thanks for the save,” he said, picking at a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “Between Clock King last night and a shareholder meeting today, I’m toast.”

“No problem,” Jason said, picking out a sprout. “Why are you taking this class anyway?”

Tim’s throat suddenly burned. “Requirement,” he managed.

“And you picked this one?” Jason asked. “I’m actually surprised they want you to take required classes now. I figured you’d just take the computer engineering ones to set you up to transfer to MIT or CalTech or somewhere.”

“Nah,” Tim said, frowning at his noodles. He had an answer for that. “I’m probably staying here. The job at Wayne Corps pays well and it’s a good cover for, you know, other things.”

“You never wanted to get out of here?” Jason asked and the tinge of wistfulness in his voice surprised Tim. 

“When I was younger, maybe,” he said. “My parents were always somewhere more interesting and I thought I’d like to see that. But I have and - “  The next thought didn’t lend itself easily to articulation.  He finally settled on, “Gotham is home.”

Jason’s eyes were on him and Tim memorized the layout of his noodles, bean sprouts, and crushed peanuts. 

“Yeah,” Jason said eventually. “I wanted out when I was younger too. But things are different when you have...power isn’t exactly what I mean, although it sure works for Bruce.”

“Autonomy,” Tim offered, forgetting that he wasn’t looking at Jadon. 

“Yeah,” Jason said. “That’s it.”  

He glanced down at his food and Tim studied the way his lashes fanned across his cheekbones from that angle. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I’m married to a guy and can’t recognize gay subtext in anything?” he blurted out. 

Jason laughed around his noodles, no more than a slight cough in the beginning. Tim was never, ever that lucky. 

“Absolutely,” he said. “But entirely in character.”  

This time Tim choked on his noodles. “Hey!”

Jason thumped him on the back, which didn’t actually help at all, and then left his hand resting between Tim’s shoulders. 

Tim didn’t protest.

[sayakxmi]

Saiouma Puella Magi AU, but Kokichi takes Madoka's role and Shuichi takes Homura's.

For one, Kokichi's too naturally distrustful to just hear "I can grant you any wish :)" and not think ok where's the hook. So he just does what no one ever has & essentially interrogates Kyubey, so he knows it all even before he gets to make a contract. So, some of his classmstes are MGs & he won't become one himself BUT he still ends up tagging along to just protect them in his Kokichi ways. (Though I'm entertaining Kokichi lying about being a magical girl, because, well, it's Kokichi).

(I also got a small idea of Gonta being a magical girls and Kokichi originally tagging along him into labyrinths, Gonta also makes him a magic gun from the toy one he had, and at some point witches out & Kokichi manages to kill him with that gun. So he always has that spare Grief Seed on himself, bc it's still his best friend & he can't handle the idea of just giving it away or using it himself (he does anyway in the end).)

Shuichi prolly ends up being a new kid & it isn't like MadoHomu, the ppl who reach him first are Kaede & Kaito, classic. Kokichi's there, too, but he's his usual sus self. He's actually discouraging ppl from making a contract when they find out magic and miracles are real, which absolutely includes Shuichi. He's very vocal abt it, but he won't explain stutf, bc 1) he's a liar, so who'd believe him? and 2) he doesn't want them to witch out upon finding out the truth or, idk, murder everybody Mami-style.

Anyway, fast forward, bad things happen bingo & by the end of the run most charas are dead, there's Walpurgis nachting, and he makes his wish to bring back the ppl who died notably not as magical girls. Contract signed, he fights & fails, rip. I also thought it was similar to how he thought he could end the killing game by himself - he though he could finish Walpurgisnacht by himself, too. And he failed in both times. Whatevs.

Shuichi doesn't actually make his time travel wish for Ouma specifically, he wants to save all his friends. Timelines are messy esp at first bc he either tells then or it backfires or just makes himself look very sus bc he's trying not to tell them. He also realizes why Kokichi hadn't told anybody aby witches at some point, bc, yeah, it messes them a lot, assuming they believe it.

Still, Kokichi ends up one of the few people who are nearly always giving him a chance, not necessarily out of belief, but out of pragmatism - bro can stop time & knows the truth, that's just too useful. So they often work together & Shuichi grows closer to him but still we ain't there yet. But the thing is, Shuichi's time travel still makes Kokichi more & more powerful with each timeline, bc Shuichi usually goes back after Kokichi dies, so the universe figured out this guy's life's important. Anyway, another notable thing is the iconic Homura kills Madoka scene, but it's Saiouma with guest stars of Kaito & Maki. It's Walpy, it's not defeated yet, but the training trio are spent & just kinda accept their fate of turning into witches together. And then, boom, Kokichi appears & steals their Soul Gems for a sec & he's like did u know you can cleanse your Soul Gem with a darkened one? But it's a lie & he quickly tells them so, he just had a spare Grief Seed after cleansing his Soul Gem & he needs them to do some stuff. Shuichi can travel back in time & fix things, and Maki & Kaito are needed to fight Walpy here. He actually questions what happens to the timelines Shuichi leaves behin, and ofc he doesn't know. There's a chance they remain, so Kokichi needs Maki & Kaito to fight Walpy here.

Kaimaki leave, and Shuichi finally looks at Kokichi & realizes sth is Wrong. Kokichi struggles to hide how he's trembling & grimacing, and it's Kokichi, so obviously it must be extremely bad. Shuichi dreadfully realizes something worse, and he weakly asks Kokichi why aren't his wounds healing. And Kokichi just falls, laughing weakly, and Shuichi catches him & searches for his Soul Gem and, God, he knew it. It's nearly completely black. Kokichi laughs & admits he lied abt having two Grief Seeds, he only had one he never wanted to use. But they'll have the second one soon, so no need to worry. He asks Shuichi to maybe destroy his witch form as it's hatching, so he'll have the Grief Seed without any fighting… and he admits that he hates fighting, he hates this magical world and all its violence. He says that Kaito was right in calling him a coward, even here he just can't handle the idea of fighting any longer, he's so sorry. And Shuichi tells him he ISN'T a coward. He was scared, but he always followed everybody, trying to help, and when push came to shove he would always make a contract for the benefit of others rather than himself. He's a lot of things, but a coward isn't one. Kokichi actually tears up hearing that, and Shuichi promises he won't let him fight ever again, and especially he won't let him turn into a witch and hurt anybody, because he knows it's the last thing he's ever wanted. Even now he only accepts turning into a witch to help them fight to keep others safe. So Shuichi won't let him. Kokichi probably apologizes and thanks him and then he dies.

Keeping Kokichi from fighting starts off as a side quest that gains importance with time, bc it's something Shuichi won't compromise on (ah, trauma), which leads him to occassionally neglect others a bit, which makes them more likely to get hurt & ironically Kokichi more likely to make a contract, especially since he gets more powerful & Kyubey is more interested in him with each timeline. And that also makes him witch out super quick. Shuichi's paying more attention to him & over time grows resentful of others for how they're treating him. To Shuichi it's no question that Kokichi cares & is just doing his best to help, but nobody realizes that.

But the biggest obstacle in keeping Kokichi from fighting is actually Kokichi himself, bc he's too smart and nosy, lmao. Even if he knows nothing, he will find out quickly. Doesn't help that Kyubey wants him to make a contract.

Also, obviously Kaito is Sayaka-coded and Maki could be Kyouko-coded, so that's a thing, BUT it's usually Maki that witches out. Kaito is usually pretty close, but Kokichi intervenes & he survives, but Maki later cracks on her own (and since in the new timeline Kokichi isn't there, Kaito's the one to die, so he's still the secretary). So it's Kaito who gets the dramatic sacrifice. I imagine he genuinely hoped you could bring somebody back if you tried Very Hard & Kokichi called him a moron bc obviously it's not possible. If it was there'd be far less witches that there are. But it's Kaito, he doesn't listen to reason. So, Kokichi follows him to the labyrinth. At first Kaito's mad cuz what if Kokichi being there ruins the plan? Maki hates his guts! But eventually he gets hit pretty hard, and Kokichi is near immediately by his side, trying to help him get up, which kinda makes Kaito short circuit a little bc wait Kokichi's trying to help? But witch!Maki attacks them & Kokichi pushes Kaito away & gets caught himself (and choked until unconsciousness, naturally). Anyway, Kaito gets him away, Shuichi catches Kokichi & Kaito makes up his mind about going down with Maki & asks Shuichi to tell Kokichi that he's sorry. He doesn't get him, but he got hurt trying to protect him, so he'll believe in that if nothing else. F.

As for The WishTM, in the last timeline Shuichi lashes out at Kokichi for his willingness to just become part of the system. In no timeline has his wish actually helped, it did NOTHINHG, which OUCH but it also makes Kokichi think out of the box more & he becomes the Law of Cycles. And Shuichi realizes what is happening & freaks out bc Kokichi's doing it bc of what he told him & like Homura they end up having a momentTM in space & Shuichi remembers. He feels a lot of guilt even tho he also questions whether anything was real, but if it was, he pushed somebody he far too realized he loved into erasing himself from existence.

[torahoes]

(IDOLiSH7) Haruka Isumi - An Idol's Daily Life Rabbit Chat: Part 5 - Childhood dreams

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tsumugi Takanashi: Good work today. Thank you for the special throat lozenges from your grandmother yesterday!

Tsumugi Takanashi: My throat felt so much better, and they were delicious!

Haruka Isumi: Ah

Haruka Isumi: Hold on a sec

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'm sorry, are you busy? > <

Haruka Isumi: No, it's okay now

Haruka Isumi: My members are coming over to hang out today, so I figured I might as well do some cleaning while I was taking out the albums from the closet

Haruka Isumi: I'm almost done, so grandma said I should take a break and brought me some tea

Tsumugi Takanashi: I see. Great job on working hard and cleaning up!

Haruka Isumi: Thanks

Haruka Isumi: When I told grandma you thanked her for the throat lozenges, she was really happy

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Haruka Isumi: Has your hoarseness gotten better?

Haruka Isumi: When we met at the studio, your voice was super rough

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes, thanks to you...!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I had back-to-back meetings from morning till night the day before and had to talk non-stop, so I ended up with that voice...

Tsumugi Takanashi: But after having the lozenges, the pain went away, and I felt much better.

Haruka Isumi: I get it. The honey ginger flavor makes it easy to suck on, right?

Haruka Isumi: Minami also likes them, so I always give him some during our recordings

Tsumugi Takanashi: That's wonderful...! I tried making some for IDOLiSH7 once, but it didn't turn out well...

Haruka Isumi: Grandma says she can put together the recipe for you later if you want

Tsumugi Takanashi: What!?

Tsumugi Takanashi: That's too much to ask, especially since she's busy.

Haruka Isumi: She’s happy that you liked the lozenges, so don’t worry about it

Tsumugi Takanashi: Thank you so much > < Then, I'll take you up on that... I'm looking forward to it!

Haruka Isumi:

Tsumugi Takanashi: So your members are coming over after this, I see. Is the cleaning going well?

Haruka Isumi: I think it'll be done before they arrive

Haruka Isumi: So many things kept coming out of the closet that for a moment, I panicked thinking I might not make it in time lol

Tsumugi Takanashi: Were they memorabilia?

Haruka Isumi: Yeah. Stuff like a plastic bottle rocket I made for a science project in elementary school

Tsumugi Takanashi: I made one too, but I remember being disappointed because it didn't fly at all.

Haruka Isumi: Mine didn’t fly at first either

Haruka Isumi: I kept redoing it out of frustration

Haruka Isumi: Then grandma bought a book that tells you how to make them and helped me with it

Tsumugi Takanashi: Your grandmother is so kind...! Did the rocket fly successfully?

Haruka Isumi: Of course

Haruka Isumi: I remember being really happy when my classmates were impressed by my rocket

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Haruka Isumi: There were photos from that day in one of the albums too

Haruka Isumi: Digital photos are great, but it's nice to look back at physical ones like this

Tsumugi Takanashi:

1) Do you have any particularly memorable photos?

Haruka Isumi: Probably the photo from when I went to see T-kun at a shopping center. I couldn't get close because of the other kids there, but grandma encouraged me. I look so happy in the photo next to him lol

2) What kind of games did you play as a child?

Haruka Isumi: I used to make secret bases in the closet. I'd lay out futons and set up a flashlight there lol. The stars I drew on the ceiling with crayons are still there too

3) Do you have any photos from your time studying abroad?

Haruka Isumi: I do. They're mostly of sceneries and stuff, not selfies, but I sent them along with letters to my grandma, and she put them all in an album

Haruka Isumi: I just need to put the piano back in the closet, and I'll be done

Tsumugi Takanashi: A piano in the closet...?

Haruka Isumi: Oh, no no lmao, not a big one, just a toy one!

Haruka Isumi: Grandma brought it out when my members came over last time, and it’s been out since then

Tsumugi Takanashi: I see! Did you play it often when you were little?

Haruka Isumi: Yup, it was my favorite toy

Haruka Isumi: I don't remember much, but grandma says I told her I wanted to be a pianist when I was little

Tsumugi Takanashi: That's so cool! So you've always had a passion for music.

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Haruka Isumi: Pretty much. But kids' dreams change all the time, so I probably just said it on a whim

Haruka Isumi: Didn't you have something like that too?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I wanted to be a cake shop owner!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I think I dreamed of working in a place that smelled sweet, since I loved cakes...!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Was there a reason you wanted to become a pianist, Isumi-san?

Haruka Isumi: Yeah. I saw someone playing the piano at a department store while shopping with grandma. I thought it was cool

Haruka Isumi: Apparently, I used to play whatever came to mind and claimed I composed it lmao

Tsumugi Takanashi: Kids often make up their own random songs, don’t they?

Haruka Isumi: Yup lmao. But grandma always smiled and praised me no matter what I played

Tsumugi Takanashi: That’s wonderful. It’s understandable why you have such fond memories.

Haruka Isumi: Right. I still remember how happy I was when I first got the piano

Haruka Isumi: I’ve made more good memories recently too

Haruka Isumi: I’ll make sure to keep the piano safe

Tsumugi Takanashi:

End of Part 5.

[gunilslaugh]

Valentine's Day Past to Present

Oh Seungmin

Summary: Your Valentine Days with Seungmin from past to present. (non-idol au)

WC:~2.1k

Warning: one cuss word

photo not mine credits to owner.

3 years ago

“Here, happy Valentine’s Day,” Seungmin tells you as he hands you a box of chocolates. 

“Why are you giving my sibling a Valentine’s Day gift?” Your brother cut in before you could properly thank Seungmin. 

“Calm down. He’s clearly just being nice,” you say, taking the box from Seungmin’s hand. 

“Yeah, acting like I didn’t give you a box of chocolates too bro.” 

“I’m just making sure you remember the rule. Y/n is off limits,” your brother reminds. 

“And my friends are off limits from you,” you reminded him. There was this rule you and your brother had. You guys weren’t allowed to date each other’s friends. Your brother developed the rule first when you were back in middle school after he saw you looking at one of his friends with heart eyes. He told you that your little crush needed to die because his friends were off limits. To which you rebuttal that your friends are off limits too. It was more of a petty thing on your end. Truthfully you didn’t really care if your friends were to take an interest in your brother and date him, but since your brother had the audacity to tell you to stay away from his friends. You thought it was only fair to tell him to stay away from your friends too. 

Now you're in your junior year of highschool, your brother in his senior year and your “friends are off limits” rule still stands. You thanked Seungmin for the box of chocolates and headed to your room. You sat down at your desk and looked at the box of chocolates for a moment before taking off the lid. You picked up a piece of chocolate and plopped it into your mouth. You’re a bit surprised that Seungmin actually got you something. You had only met him twice before. 

The first time was a brief encounter. You were waiting for your brother at your designated meeting spot that you would meet at before heading home together. Today was a little different as your brother approached you, you noticed that there was someone else walking alongside him.

“Hold my bag for a sec.” Your brother dropped his bag in your arms before opening it up and looking through it.

“Why do I have to hold it?” you complained. 

“Just for a sec. Stop whining. This is my sibling y/n by the way.” Your brother fished out his binder from his bag and opened it. 

“I’m Seungmin,” the guy introduced himself. Your brother hands Seungmin some papers then puts his binder back in his bag and takes it back from you. He gave Seungmin a quick bye and that was it. You didn’t even get to say a single word to Seungmin. 

The second time you met Seungmin you actually got to talk to him. Your brother had invited Seungmin over for the weekend. You walked into your living room to see the two of them playing games while sitting on the couch.

“That’s y/n you met them before,” your brother states. 

“For like ten seconds” you remarked. Seungmin laughs at your comment. Your brother turns to look at Seungmin, but you can’t see his face. “I’m grabbing a water, do you want anything Seungmin?” you offered. 

“Yeah I’ll take water, thanks,” Seungmin responds. You head to the kitchen to grab the watters. 

“Grab me one too!” your brother yells. You grabbed three waters from the fridge then went back to the living room.

“Here,” you handed the cool bottle to Seungmin.

“Thanks,” he smiled. You tossed the other water at your brother then returned back to your room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years ago

The front door swings open and you hear multiple pairs of footsteps enter along with some chatter. It’s your brother and his friends. Only minutes after you heard the group of boys arrive you heard a knock on your door. 

“Yeah!” you called out. Your door knob rustles as it turns and followed by your bedroom door pops open. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Seungmin appears holding a heart shaped box of chocolates and a tiny bear stuffed animal. You can’t contain the smile from your face, climbing off your bed to walk over to Seungmin. 

“Thank you.” You take the bear and chocolates from his hands. 

“The bear came with the chocolates,” he tells you. No it didn’t, but Seungmin is scared buying you a stuffed animal and chocolates may seem like a bit too much for him “just being nice”.

“I didn’t ask,” you played. “I got you chocolates too, hold on.” you walked over to your desk grabbing the small box of chocolates you got for Seungmin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you express, trying to not let a shade of pink take over your cheeks.You hand him the box. 

“Thanks. You didn’t have to,” he said, taking the box.

“You don’t have to get me anything either,” you told him. 

“I want to,” he says.

“I want to too.” you laughed lightly, so did Seungmin. 

“What’s taking you so long? Do I need to drag you out of here?” Your brother suddenly entered your room. 

“Relax. We were just talking,” you say. Seungmin was very sly with the way he slid the box of chocolates you gave him into his pocket. You didn’t even see him do it yourself, you only noticed that the box was no longer in his hand. Your brother proceeds to lead Seungmin out of the room. After Seungmin is gone your brother turns back to you, opening his mouth. 

“He’s off limits I know,” you state. 

“I-well yes he is, but that’s not what I was gonna say. I was gonna ask, didn't you have plans with y/f/n today?” he asks.

“That’s this weekend. They’re working today,” you inform. 

“Oh. Stay in your room then don’t bother us,” your brother orders you. 

“Yes sir,” you replied sarcastically while laughing. It was a bit weird though. Yes your brother told you that his friends were off limits, but he never made you stay away from them physically. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 year ago

“So I’m not allowed to break our rule, but you are?” You popped up in front of your brother as he was hugging your friend after giving them the Valentine’s Day presents he got for them. Your brother immediately jumps away from your friend. 

“You’re not supposed to be home,” he says in a panic.

“Actually I never had any plans. I knew about you dating y/f/n since the beginning of your two’s relationship.” You wrapped one of your arms around your friend, pulling them into a side hug. “I just thought today would be a fun day to confront you about it and y/f/n agreed,” you smiled. Your brother looks at y/f/n with a face of betrayal, but you have a bigger bone to pick with him. “Are your friends still off limits?” you arched your eyebrow at your brother. He remains silent. 

“Yes. I told you they were off limits for a reason,” he says. 

“Then you and y/f/n have to break up,” you tell him. 

“What? You can’t-”

“I can’t what?” you cut him off “I told you my friends were off limits too. You’re being such a hypocrite right now. I don’t care if this is a complete bitch move. If I can’t date your friends then you can’t date mine. Break up right now!” you rant out angrily.

“Y/n seriously?” 

“Right now!” you half yelled, stomping one foot. 

“O-ok fine.” Your brother raises his hand in surender. “If you want to date my friends go ahead. Let’s stop our rule.” A smile grazes across your face. You swipe your hair away from your face with one hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you. You two have fun.” You went to head out of the door. 

“Wait! You weren’t actually mad or was that just a really fast mood swing and I thought you said you didn’t have any plans!” Your brother hollers when you're already halfway out the door.

“I have plans now!” you called out, shutting the door behind you. Your plans: find Seungmin. 

You found Seungmin at a cafe. You knocked on the window to get Seungmin’s attention. His eyes widened when he saw you standing on the other side of the glass. You motioned for him to come outside. Seungmin couldn't get up fast enough as he rushed to you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” he questioned as he approached you. 

“I’m not off limits anymore,” you tell him. 

“Huh?” Seungmin felt his heart speed up with hope. Did he not have to repress his crush on you anymore?

“My brother is dating y/f/n, so I told him if I couldn’t date his friends then he and y/f/n have to break up. He gave me permission to date his friends. Our rule is over now,” you inform. Seungmin smiles the biggest, brightest smile.

“Come with me.” He takes your hand in his leading you to his car. He opens the car door for you and closes it behind you. Then he rushes around his car to the other side. As soon as he enters the car he’s reaching over to do up your seatbelt for you.

“Where are we going?” you asked when he began to drive. 

“First, my apartment. Then it depends on you,” Seungmin smiled over at you. 

The two of you reached his apartment fairly quickly. Seungmin rushes back to your side of the car to open the door for you. Even giving you his hand as you step out of the car. He doesn’t let your hand go either. He holds it all the way to his apartment. He only lets go once you both step inside. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, leaving you in his living room. He soon returns with a box of chocolates and a penguin plushie that had a heart in the middle of its chest. 

“Will you be my valentine?” he asked you instead of his usual “Happy Valentine’s Day”.

“Yes.” You eagerly nodded. He hands the gifts over to you and wraps you in a hug afterwards. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve liked you,” Seungmin confesses.

“How long?” you asked him.

“When we met for like ten seconds three years ago,” he reveals. 

“Really?” You pulled away from the hug, but remained close to him. Seungmin nods. 

“When I first saw you I was scared you might have been his partner, but then I saw the way he practically threw his bag at you. I figured that you were siblings and I was so glad when he confirmed that. However then he told me about how you were off limits. That you guys had a rule to not date each other’s friends. I tried to repress my feelings for you, but it didn’t really work,” Seungmin chuckles. “You know just about every time I talked to you your brother scolded me afterwards. Especially after Valentine’s Day last year. I’m pretty sure he knew that I liked you. I don’t know why he was so against it though,” Seungmin tells you. You grab his hand, lacing it with yours. 

“That doesn’t matter anymore. We can like each other as much as we want now,” you said. 

“Good, cause I like you a lot.” Seungmin brings your hand to his lips and presses a delicate kiss onto your knuckles. 

“I like you a lot too.” You squeezed his hand lovingly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present

“Happy Valentine’s Day Beautiful.” Seungmin holds out a dozen roses and a box of chocolates. Your heart melts. 

“Thank you,” you reached out for the flowers, leaning in to smell them and taking the chocolates too. 

“Of course.” Seungmin takes your face in his hands and kisses your nose sweetly. “I got one more too,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box from it.

“What’s this?” you questioned, setting the flowers and chocolates down. 

“Open it.” Seungmin gestures to the box. You take the lid off to reveal a bracelet. It has a little heart shaped pendant hanging from it. Upon looking at it closer you see that it has yours and Seungmin’s initials engraved on it. You're at a loss for words. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it, thank you.” You feel so touched by his gift you feel some tears wanting to prick your eyes. 

“Let me put it on for you.” Seungmin takes the bracelet out of the box and carefully wraps it around your wrist, securing it. It’s now that you notice the necklace hanging from his neck that matches with your bracelet. You bring your hand up to it, gently taking the heart in between your fingers. Seungmin places his hand over yours. 

“Are you ready for our date now?” He looks at you, eyes filled with love. You nodded looking back at him, eyes filled with just as much love.

[sturniolonoodles]

nerdygamer!matt x book lover!reader

part 2 of my series!! enjoy!!

part three here

also i didn’t know how to end this chapter sorry it ends so awkward????

-

y/n: hey. are you free tomorrow by chance?

matt: ya 3 pm work?

y/n: yeah, sounds good.

matt: you can come to my place

if you want

or we can go to a coffee shop or something

you don’t have to come here

i mean you’re welcome here of course i just

sorry

whatever you want is cool with me

i put my phone down on my bed and just stare at my phone. it’s been at least 8 hours since i last saw matt in class when he barely spoke a word to me and now he’s a chatterbox over text. where was this when we were in awkward silence before he left me with no warning?

i pick my phone back up and type out a text

y/n: no worries. your house is good

matt: ok cool

the next day

matt offered to pick me up, but i told him i can drive, then he sent me his address and that was the extent of our conversation. we have said nothing else since last night. his house is about 10 minutes away so i leaving a little early just in case. i assume if he changed his mind about me coming over to his house he would have said something, but hearing nothing from him all day his making me slightly anxious.

i pull up to the address, a cute white house in a cute little neighborhood. a small yard, big windows and two stories high, sitting in between two equally as large houses on either side. i park on the street outside, only one car in the driveway, possibly matt’s car.

i’m only a few minutes early, so i walk to the front door and knock. no one comes to the door for a solid minute, i’m about to knock again when matt swings the door open. he’s standing there in a grey sweater, baggy jeans, and socks on his feet. he looks tired, his hair messy and he’s running his fingers frantically through his curls.

“hi,” he smiles, opening the door wider for me to come in.

“hey,” i step inside and look around the room. we’re standing in the living room, a comfy looking room with big couches and pictures in frames all over the side tables and walls. it looks warm and welcoming and i just want to throw myself on the couch and take a nap. the man next to me may not always be warm, more confusing than anything.

“my brother nick is in his room, chris is out somewhere, my parents are at work,” he says as he closes the door, “nick won’t bother us…probably. so we can get out work done…hopefully.” he laughs lightly as he leads me down the hall.

“my room,” he says as he opens the door and dramatically holds his arm up like he’s presenting something extravagant. i laugh at him and he smiles back, like a big smile. a big real smile. and that makes me more confused why he seemed so cold with me in class yesterday, “or um, we don’t have to work in here. we can go in the kitchen or the living room to work.”

“it’s okay, wherever.” i take this as my chance to look around his room, just in case he decided to move out to another room to work. it’s not too big, not too small. a bed is against the wall, in a corner of the room, with a couple stuffed animals tucked under the blanket and i want to go over and get a better look at them but i don’t want to make it obvious i’m snooping. it’s not overly decorated in here, but it feels very…matt. what i know of him at least. i don’t know much, but i feel like looking around his room all of sudden i know him just slightly more. he has a big desk against the wall across from his bed, a gaming chair in front of it, and a full computer set up on top of the desk with monitors and a headset and controllers.

“okay, we can work in here. wait one sec.” he walks out of the room and i hear him shuffling something outside.

i move closer to the side of his bed and peer over at his stuffed animals. there’s a a bear, a dragon, and a pug. the pug is sitting in the middle with its floppy ears and wrinkly face. his face has drooped and one ear is over his face. i bend over to move his ear out of his face, it feels like im moving without thinking. why am i touching his stuffed pug? i move the ear out of his face and pat the top of his head. before i can stand up, i hear movement at the door to his room and i look up and see matt staring back at me holding a chair in front of him. he looks at me, i look at him, with my hand still on the pug’s head.

“sorry…his ear…was uh…in his face so i uh…” my voice trails off as i stand up straight.

he’s still standing there, holding the chair and just looking at me. he finally moves his feet forwards and sets the chair down next to his gaming chair.

“that’s mr. wrinkleton. he likes the attention, it’s okay.” he sits down in the chair he just brought in and points at the gaming chair for me to sit in.

“he’s cute. i like him.” i set my bag down on the floor and sit down. he looks down at his feet and smiles. is he….blushing? i must be losing my mind. maybe i’m imagining things. sitting across from the guy i’ve had a small ever so tiny crush on in his room after he just caught me petting his stuffed animal pug. “i figured we could just kind of go over the information mr. samuels wrote out for us first.”

he nods his head and grabs his laptop off the desk and i pull mine out of bag and we get to work. it’s been pretty easy, it is just the first day and we’re only getting started. we have to pick a book to report on, literally any book. matt immideately suggest frankenstein by mary shelley and i immideately agreed. we’ve both read it before so it shouldn’t be too hard.

we’ve been sitting here for maybe an hour, facing each other with our laptops sitting on our laps. i’m hunched over, even tho there’s a perfectly fine back rest i can just lean back on i have chronically bad posture and instinctively lean forward, hurting my back. i put a hand on my lower back and stretch my legs out in front of me and lean back. at some point in the process of squirming around in the seat, my socked foot lands on top of his. i go back to typing on my laptop when i realize it after multiple minutes of our feet touching, mine on his. i quickly move it off and tuck my leg underneath me.

“are you getting tired? i’m getting tired. i think we’ve done basically everything we can today.” matt says and he sits up straighter and stretches his arms above his head.

“yeah, i’m getting tired. i think this was a good place to stop, we can do more in class next week.” i say. today is finally friday, meaning we don’t have this class again until monday.

matt nods and i expect him to get up, but he doesn’t. he just stares back at me. so i stare back at him. “why did you leave so abruptly the other day?” i ask as i start picking at my nails, a nervous habit i’ve always had.

“oh, just like…nervous i guess.” he shrugs his shoulders.

i shake my head confused, “nervous? why were you-“ i start, but i’m cut off by a dog waddling into the room, “you have a dog?? you didn’t tell me you have a dog!” i yell and jump up and run over to the small dog leisurely walking into the room.

“his name is trevor,” he laughs at my excited giggles as i pet trevor, who immediately is excited he’s getting pet.

“oh my god i love him!” i pet trevor a bit more then stand up straight, “i think i might have to steal him.”

“he likes you already.”

“well what can i say, i am very likable.”

“you are.” he stands up and walks over to me and bends down to give trevor a couple taps.

i look up at him and we’re both bending down to per trevor and matt catches my eyes. i feel something there, behind his eyes. like he’s trying to say something, but i can’t quite place what it is. like i can almost read his thoughts, like he’s trying to tell me something by just looking at me, but im not sure what it is. i feel warmth in my belly, his kind eyes getting softer the second they look at me.

“are you hungry?” he asks.

“a little.” i nod.

“kitchen?” he stands up straight and i do the same as i follow him into the kitchen.

“oreos?” matt offers and he grabs a package out of a cabinet.

-

somehow, another hour passed and matt and i somehow ended up back in his room sitting on the floor, an almost empty container of oreos sitting next to us. our legs are spread out on the floor and my back is leaning against his bed and his is leaning against the wall next to it. could we have sat somewhere more convenient? probably. but we somehow ended up down here and haven’t gotten up. we’ve been talking about school, friends, family. he has a small family, just his brothers and his parents, but they’re all really close. he’s been talking about how much he loves his family and i find myself being more and more drawn to him the more he talks. he asks me questions, but i sound so boring i try to avoid them. i feel like i don’t have much to say, but when there is something to say, it’s either not interesting or it’s sad.

“i should probably leave, i have to pick up my brother soon,” i say as i look at my phone for the time.

“okay, yeah,” he nods as we both stand up and i start gathering all my things and slipping my shoes back on.

he walks me to the front door and i turn around to face him, “i’ll see you monday.”

“yeah, for sure. i’ll probably text you before then.” matt says, hands rifling through his hair again.

“oh yeah, okay, sounds good.” this silence we’re in would have felt awkward yesterday, but after today there’s nothing awkward between us anymore.

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 5: Finale

Chapter 2: Midday

The setting sun paints the sky. Whether the the dying breeze is a sign of good fortune or bad, Vern couldn't be sure. Some musicians chatter as others tune their instruments. Swooping strings of lights flicker on overhead. A few smaller bonfires come to life around the edges of the green.

The ashes from yesterday's bonfire have been blown around the center ring. Lifting his skirt to see his toes, he carefully smears patterns through the soot with them.

"Hey Vern~"

The sprite releases the fabric as he turns. His cheeks burn a rosy red as he meets aurora eyes. "H-hello... did you ummm... like the games?"

"Yeah, they were cool~" Steel grins, "I got a few prizes."

Vern smiles, a hint of playfulness returning to the sprite, "by chance or skill?"

"Do you doubt my skills?"

"Nooo... but I umm.. might believe you if you show me what you um... won?"

"Sure~ you can only see one, though."

Vern tilts his head, brows knitting together as Steel takes a hair accessory out of his pocket. Small crystals glitter at the edges of a pink petals in the fading daylight. The sprite's gaze brightens at the delicate flower.

"You can uh.. have it if you want," Steel looks away.

"Really? I umm... thank you," Vern beams, "ummm... c-can you help me put it on?"

"Yeah- gimme a sec..." he carefully puts the clip in. A few chains of crystals softly sway down from the flower. Making sure the usual escapees are tucked in he, takes a small step back. The flower in question is a bit large, but stands out against Vern's mossy locks.

"H-how does it umm... look? Is it okay..?"

"Yeah? It looks nice."

The sprite's chest tightens at that, a pit opening in his stomach. Why does 'nice' sting so much? Vern forces a small smile, "o-oh.. okay..."

"Hm? Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," the sprite absently scratches at his arms, not meeting those aurora eyes, "u-umm... I'm ummmm... n-nervous? Y-yeah, nervous...."

Steel looks him over and mutters something. The sprite glances around before taking out a small corsage, "um... since we're um... entering together..."

"Huh, neat."

"C-can I umm..." he motions to Steel's shirt.

"Sure, sure," he shrugs. Vern hesitates before stepping closer to pin it on him. Taking extra care to make sure it's straight, a soft smile lights his features. He tenderly touches each flower, "a goldenrod for encouragement... a hollyhock for ambition.. an iris for faith and trust.. and ivy leaves for um..."

".. ivy for me," Steel finishes, a small smirk on his lips.

"I-it's for friendship," pink tints his cheeks, "Y-you're my ivy... you are um.. precious to me..."

"Prec... er-"

A squeal from behind jolts Vern back to their surroundings. Shirley, barefooted, bounds over to them. Her fiery ruffled skirts are currently pristine, yet the ash takes to the ribbons around her calves. Folia takes her time with the rest of the group.

"I knew it! Oh my Sevens, the soft blues with the gold and silvers are perfect," Shirley spins Vern as she looks them both over, "Yes! I can't believe we didn't think of combining the metals before!"

"Yes, seeing them together is stunning," Folia softly laughs. A few gradual notes tug beg of their attention, "I see we're right now time."

Ooc// TIME SKIP! a little calm before the storm... this part isn't long at all

Taglist: @nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain

Songs: Unwritten by Natasha Bendingfield Centuries by Fall Out Boy

Previously: Book 1: [1] [2] [3] Book 2: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B] [6] [7] Book 3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] Book 4: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] Book 5: [1] [2]

[lulu2992]

Deleted dialog from Far Cry 3’s main story

In this series of posts, I’m sharing all the unreleased content (minus a few duplicates) I found in the oasisstrings text file, even when it wasn’t very interesting, so we have a comprehensive list of the lines that were cut in each Far Cry 3 story mission.

On a side note, the document never says which character is speaking, so every time you see names, it’s either because the corresponding audio files were available and I know who the speaker is, or because the context made it easy to guess their identity.

Part 22: Fly South & Three Blind Mice

Fly South

In this mission, Willis originally had more lines during the attack:

Jason help!

You won't take me alive.

They were sent here by the Russians!

This is part of the conspiracy.

Get away from me!

Reagan would be proud!

Kick them back to China!

Yes, we can!

More pinkos incoming. Stay sharp!

They're not giving up. More inbound!

That was some fine shooting. They're shocked and I'm awed. Now get in.

When he says he’s taking another plane in Singapore, Jason would simply reply:

Okay.

And about the wingsuit, he had two more comments:

Are you sure this thing is safe?

This looks like some failed '60s CIA experiment.

Three Blind Mice

Upon arriving in Thurston, Jason had a few more lines:

I guess this is Thurston.

Who runs this place? Blackwater?

These guys look tough.

In the game, he then gives money to a privateer to access the poker game and meet Sam, but it all happens in a cutscene whether or not you can actually “afford the buy-in”. The following exchange suggests this wasn’t always the case and that maybe you needed to interact with the man to pay him... or not if you didn’t have enough money on you:

Jason: I'll get back to you. Privateer: Yeah, you do that. Privateer: Hey. Show me the buy-in or fuck off.

Then, we had several lines, it seems either from privateers or Rakyat NPCs, overhead in the town:

Fucking slopes. Hoyt should let us kill a few more.

Any of you assholes eyeball me again... BANG!

Welcome to another day in paradise, motherfuckers.

All Sec-2 personnel, report to your goddamn posts!

Hey, which of you fine Asian bitches is gonna suck my dick?

Man, the pay's shit, but the pussy here is fucking vintage!

Hello, sir. May I help you with anything, sir?

Please, I have no more money to pay.

No trouble, please. I am not one of the whores.

They come into my house and they take my food. How am I supposed to feed my family?

After Jason becomes acquainted with Sam and the latter asks him to follow him, Jason says, “Where did he go?” in the game, but as I mentioned in Part 14, this line was originally about Buck.

Instead, the original comment about Sam in this mission was:

What have I gotten myself into?

Finally, Sam would tell a bit more about himself:

I try to be a good soldier. The poker keeps me sane, ja? The name of the game is reading the others...bluffing them, making them think one thing when it is another, ja?

Me? I am an expert at bluffing. I can go all in like that with nothing in my hand but air. How do I do it? Simple gullibility. I believe my own lies.

[exclusivecolette]

LOVE AGAINST ALL ODDS

PT.2

(make sure you read pt.1 first.) Not proofread, long chapter

(if you aren’t blonde or don’t apply to the features, you can just put your own features in. i just put my features because i didn’t really know what else.)

summary: a girl starts to fall in love with a boy in class. But, her abusive parents are extremely strict (ignoring the fact she’s even old enough to drive.) And what is she gonna do when she realizes, he isn’t just some crush

TW: ‼️ABUSE‼️, cussing, more in further chapters.

I had on jeans, a crop top, and a flannel over. I even curled my hair. I hate curling my hair. Am i curling it for someone? “Come on we’re leaving” Charlie came in. “okay i’m coming” i say standing up and putting down my mascara. I go out to the car and luckily my mom was driving. “who did you get all ready for?” she asked suspiciously while pulling out of the driveway. “no one mom” i sit back looking away from her. I was still mad about her telling dad.

“okay i shouldn’t have told him-“ she started “mom i really don’t wanna relive it so if you could just drop it” i say still not looking at her. i hate her so much.

-

While i’m sitting in the bleachers reading i hear the boys start to come out. Fuck i can’t see him “can we sit closer mom i can’t see charlie” i say closing my book. “your gonna watch?” she asked surprised but agreed and we went down.

I spotted him the exact moment he spotted me. He smiled at me then waved. I had my hand up getting ready to wave when my mom grabbed my hand “who’s that?” she asked and i jerk my hand back. “no one mom” i roll my eyes looking away.

-

matt started skating my way then quickly turned around to be focused. Standing right in front of me i couldn’t help but stare. He turned his head at me and smirked before skating off toward the puck. “why are you blushing” my mom asked. I roll my eyes angrily “mom please” i put my head in my hands.

-

The looks and smirks he kept sneaking to me were driving me inside. At the end of the game when everyone was celebrating the win i saw matt walk off. “hey mom i gonna go to the bathroom before we leave” i say and she nodded and all her attention went back on my brother.

“hey” i jog up to him and he stopped and instantly started smiling. “hi. i saw you were actually paying attention today” he laughed. “yeah i wanted to look for you-“ i stopped instantly god why did i say that!? “not like in a creepy way” i say quickly to defend myself “i know what you meant” he softly hit the side of my shoulder.

“you did great today. i don’t know how it works but it looked like you were doing a good job.” i smile looking away then i saw him smile and say “well thank you.” then he slightly moved a piece of hair out of his face but it fell back “here” i stand on my tip toes and move it away fully so it didn’t fall again.

“there you go” i smile and he was just staring at me like he was in an trance. “hey um-“ my phone dinged interrupting him. “sorry one sec” i pull it out and look. My mom texted “where r u hurry up” i felt a weight kinda get put on my chest. “i’m sorry i gotta go matt” i say putting my phone back into my pocket.

“what we’re you gonna say” i ask feeling bad for cutting him off. “i can tell you tomorrow” he said looking away. “no just text me” i say smiling

“i don’t have your number” he said confused “u don’t? give me your phone.” he handed it to me. “don’t text me, just call me tonight at like 9 and if i ever block you just know it had something to do with parents or something” i explain while typing it. “okay sounds great” he said and started walking “bye matt” i say quickly “bye” he said and left.

I walk out to the car and see my mom and she immediately asked “what took so long?” she asked pulling out “ran into scarlet” i look away from her “give me your phone” i give it to her. We were at a stop light and she picked it up. matt don’t be stupid please. She checked it and found nothing.

“just ran into scarlet like i said” i mumble. “don’t make me-“ i cut her off “tell my father? mom that’s the only card you know how to pull because you know what he does to me.” she was silent “what are you talking about” charlie asked confused and a bit worried.

“mom what AM i talking about?” i ask looking at her and she just had her jaw clenched as she ignored me. “gabby what are you-“ charlie started again. “stop with the questions it’s none of your business charlie” the rest of the car ride was silent.

-

“can you pass the plate char” i ask “yeah ofc” he said and handed it to me. “i have to talk to you later” i say to him quietly but it didn’t do much considering the table was silent. “i need to talk to you too gabby” my dad said. shit my fucking snitch ass mom i glare at my mom and back to him before looking back down. “i have a lot of homework” i lie not looking up.

“you can make time” he said nonchalantly. “i’m not hungry” i sit back in my chair “but you barely ate” charlie said. “yeah well i can see the next 20 minutes and i’ve lost my appetite” i say pushing my chair in and my father glared at me. “what are you talking-“ i kiss his head quickly “goodnight charlie” i say and go to my room.

-

i waited, and waited, and waited. I pick up my phone. It was almost 9. i kinda hope he calls right at 9 like the second the hand hits the 12. I turn on my tv and watch a little before my phone started ringing. I pick it up forgetting matt was supposed to call.

“hello?” i ask “hey” i heard his voice. “i totally forgot for a second you were supposed to call” i laugh slightly. “congrats on the game tonight really” i add “thank you gabby really” he paused “you sound-“ he paused “like tense are you okay” i didn’t say anything then took a deep breath “my dads talking to me tonight and i’m just- i’m really not looking forward to it” i say quietly “oh” he said with a sorta confused voice.

“but um you had something to tell me earlier” i say moving on with the subject “oh i actually had something to ask” he said nervously. “yeah anything” i say. “so um” he stuttered “spit it away” i giggle “you were talking to me about that scary movie today” he started “oh yeah” i say remembering. “would u maybe- um- can i take you?” he asked and i paused.

omg matt sturniolo just asked ME on a date. I didn’t talk to him much but today. “if not-“ he started nervously “no matt yeah i mean- yeah” i laugh. “oh okay cool” he said in relief. “when” i ask “um tomorrow at 9.” he said “i can pick you up” he added. “oh” i say trying to think. “is that not okay?” he asked quickly. “no it’s um, i’ll figure it out.” i heard footsteps toward my room.

“yeah scarlet” the door opened “i’ll see you tomorrow-“ i lied. I stand up seeing my dad. “so i wanted to talk you” he sat on my bed. “what the fuck do you think telling your younger brother will do huh?” he said getting angry. “i didn’t tell hi-“ he slapped me across the face, the previous bruise making it hurt to bad. “omg” i yell standing away from him.

Tears started brimming my eyes. “at least hit me somewhere else” i yell “keep your voice down” he hit the top of my head clenching his jaw. “i didn’t tell charlie anything maybe if you didn’t hit me-“ he got closer and put is hand on my wrist jerking me closer to him “so your moms lying?” he scoffed “yes dad ask cha-“ he hit my so hard almost like punch.

I couldn’t take the pain, i started to feel lightheaded. I fell against my wall. My eyes began heavy. I felt him jerk me back up “get up” in echo said. Then a blur of the door opening “dad.” i heard then It went black.

maybe it was the fact she hadn’t ate all day, or the lack of water she’d also had, or it was the lack of sleep, or just maybe her dad hit her too hard on top of all these problems.

[akehoshimystar]

Taiga SR

A Snap of Encounter

Part 1

Despite my day off, I was asked to run an urgent errand from Main Office today. I arrived at the Administrative Dept. house and looked up at the front door.

Ito: (I arrived a little earlier than expected. But it should be okay.)

I rang the intercom, but no one answered.

Ito: (If I heard correctly, they have to be here…. It’s very unlikely that every single one of them is not home.)

I rang the intercom again and heard a noise from the other side of the door.

Taiga: Coming! Ito: (Ah, there he was.)

My ears somehow caught a commotion from inside the room. Then the sound stopped on the other side of the front door.

Taiga: Sorry for always making you wait. Ito: No, not at all. I have a delivery from the Main Office.

Sei: Oh, I’ve heard that… Thank you for taking the time to come on your day off.

Sei-san peeked out from inside and accepted the package. Just when my errand was about to end smoothly. Krrrrngh.

Ito: ………..My apologies. Taiga: Uh… This may come off as rude, but Yashiro-san, did you have lunch? Ito: I hate to admit it, but I haven’t even had breakfast yet. Taiga: Haha, you came at right time. We were just about to have lunch. Sei: Yes, we’ve got some sandwiches. Ito: …Sandwiches? Taiga: I'll wrap some up for you. Ito: (A meal from Tsukimoto-san… Who can resist that?) If it's not too much trouble… Oh, before that, are you sure? Taiga: Couldn’t be more sure.

Sei: You don't have to take it as a souvenir, we can just eat it together. Besides leisure conversation, it would be a waste for you to come and go right away Taiga: Ah, that's true. Sei: Shall I prepare some tea and sweets? Also, Haruhi… Taiga: It’s okay, he probably won't wake up anytime soon. Sei: Yeah, he’s sleeping soundly with Okoge right now. Feel free to have his portion. Ito: (I feel a little sorry, but I just can't resist hunger.) Thank you. Allow me to join you. Taiga: Then, please come in. Ito: Pardon my intrusion.

Part 2

Taiga: Oh, hold on a sec. I need to fold the laundry. Ito: I'll help you.

Sei: We can't just ask our guest to help us. Ito: Yes and no. I’m also not that much of a guest so please make full use of me. Taiga: Sorry for making you help. I usually finish a little earlier, but I was kind of busy today. Sei: He’s been working hard from early in the morning Day trading is no easy task. You have to be glued to your computer. Taiga: I can say the same for you. Seriously, this issue would be solved long time ago if Haruhi just helped out with the housework. Ito: You're really juggling chores and work… That's impressive. Taiga: That’s exaggeration, this is normal. Ito: (………………Hmm?)

In front of me is a sock with a character design on it. What a relaxed expression.

Ito: (Maybe it's a character from a game or something. Is this Ichikawa-kun's?) Is the pair of this sock over there?

Taiga: !? I’m sorry that you have to see something so unsightly! I’ll handle this one!

The sock was retrieved with a speed that's too fast to even notice. His movements were so skillful.

Ito: (I don’t think it looks bad at all…)

Sei: Oh dear, one of Taiga's feet just went missing… Ah, found it. Taiga: Don’t say another w-…!? Ito: Are those Tsukimoto-san’s? I thought they were Ichikawa-kun’s. Taiga: …Please forget what you just saw. Ito: It’s not like I’m looking down on you or anything. I was just surprised, but if anything… It’s kind of cute? Sei: Nice contrast, isn't it? Taiga: That’s none of your business…!

Tsukimoto-san got even more flustered from Sei-san’s teasing. If Ichikawa-kun had been awake, I bet it would have been more lively

Ito: (Leaving the socks aside, I find his reaction pretty interesting and fresh.)