#every decision he makes has me cackling

[la-esmerqlda]

I would like to thank Elon Musk for breaking the stereotype that “high functioning” autistic people are geniuses, because he’s genuinely so fucking dumb I can hardly even fathom it.

#Elon musk #twitter #x #autism #autistic #actually autistic #yes I am autistic #why the fuck is he renaming the site #every decision he makes has me cackling #if he’s a genius then I must be omnipotent #love him breaking the autism stereotypes #I don’t like functioning labels but I feel like he calls himself high functioning

[xxblairexxss]

I’ll be back before 10

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst

In which Pierre forced Charles to go out on a date behind your back but he didn’t want to betray your love.

I’m so sorryyy this was so sad I cried a few times while writing it but I’m not sure if it’s worthy of your tears because I’m an emotional human being I cry at everything. Not proofread!

“How many times do I have to tell you, the answer is no.”

Pierre groaned and leaned his head back against the coach. “There’s nothing wrong with it, dude! Come on! Live your life a little.”

“I can’t, Pierre. I can’t betray her.” Charles threw his body on the couch and turned on his phone to look at your picture that he had made as his wallpaper for the longest time ever. The picture was a candid picture of you looking cozy in his oversized hoodie and a packet of gummy, your favourite kind of gummy in your hand.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Baby, smile!” The flash went off before you could even catch what he was saying. “Perfect. I’m gonna make this as my wallpaper.”

“No! I bet I look ugly. Should have told me you were taking a picture so I can give you my model face.”

“Model face? Since when is my girlfriend a model? Hm?” Charles cackled. He took a bite from the gummy on your hand and poked you on your waist. He loved tickling you, the sound of your giggle will always be his favourite. He should have recorded it so he won’t forget what it sounded like.

“Stop making me laugh!” You tried to make a run but he had locked you in his arms and continued tickling you.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“You are not betraying her.”

“Don’t. Please don’t talk as if you knew what she would say.” This is the sixth times Pierre had come to ask him to agree on a date though Charles had already declined the offer the first time he asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“Everything is wrong with it, Pierre! Which part of I can’t betray her did you not get? I can’t betray Y/N.”

Pierre exhaled deeply. He had tried so hard to bring his friend to branch out and meet new people but every time he asked, he would get rejected. Now that he mentioned a girl name, Charles became more defensive. He didn’t even suggested it to be a date, it was just a proper hang out, got to know each other’s hobbies, favourite foods, favourite colors but Charles hated every idea if it involved a girl because of the same reason, he can’t betray you.

“No one’s forcing you to date her. It wasn’t even a date! I was just asking you to go out, hang out, and come home. No hands or whatsoever.”

Charles shook his head in annoyance. “You’ll never get it.”

“Fine, I’ll be there. I’ll bring Kika. I’ll ask Kika to bring any other friends she has. We’ll make it a school trip even.” Pierre saw the was Charles stop scrolling on his phone and he grinned because he knew his words had gotten his friend’s attention. Sure, Charles wouldn’t change his decision right away but at least this gave him a little hope. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. No excuse this time.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Faster, faster! We need to go home before 10!” You pulled on his hand eagerly while the event was still ongoing.

“I know, baby. Let me tell Pierre I’ll take my leave first.” He intertwined your hand with his and made his way to his best friend that was too engrossed in a conversation.

“Y/N and I will get going first.”

“You guys always take a leave before 10. What’s with the curfew? Couldn’t wait to have your own private show on the bed?”

“Something like that.” Charles replied to which your cheeks went red as you slapped him on his arm.

Pierre cackled at the couple then went on to hug you and kissed on your cheek. “Goodbye, then. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Tell Charles not to go too rough.”

“Very funny, Pierre. Bye! I’ll see you soon. Let’s go, honey!” You turned around and took the lead as you guys left the event.

“I don’t know why you always want to watch the movie from the television channel programme when we have everything ready to watch on our Disney and Netflix account.” Charles had laid down on the cozy couch after he changed from a formal suit to a cozy outfit and opened his arms to welcome you in his embrace as he saw you walked to the living room with his hoodie.

“I know but it felt like a surprise, no? Every weekend they would play a random movie with a random genre. It was mystery the last two weeks. Last week was horror. There’s no surprise element if we choose our own movie.” You made yourself comfortable on his chest and pecked on his stubble.

“Whatever you said, baby. Pierre really thought we needed to come home early for a spicy stuff when my girlfriend right here is just a huge fan of movies.” Charles laughed remembering the way his best friend looked at him suspiciously when he was leaving the event earlier.

“I know! You should have denied him. Oh, I place my bet on comedy tonight!” You laughed along.

“Nah, I think it’s gonna be horror again!”

“That’s impossible! They won’t play horror twice in a row!”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles felt so bad. So, so bad. There was a tiny spot in his heart that felt some sort of excitement for what was gonna happen in 10 minutes once Pierre picked him up. He couldn’t believe he would be excited doing things behind your back but Pierre basically forced him, telling him that this was gonna worth it. Plus, it was just a casual hang out. No touching, no kissing. Just making new friends.

Charles fixed his hair in front of the mirror and received a text from Pierre saying he’s arriving in 2 minutes. He took out his phone and turned it on to see his wallpaper, a picture of you, his favourite picture of you and found himself smiling fondly at it. He stroked his thumb on the screen, feeling himself growing enamoured at your bright smile in the picture.

“I hope you don’t mind, Y/N. Pierre said you wouldn’t mind seeing me making new friends. I’ll be back by 10, I promise. I wonder what genre are they choosing for today. Last week it was comedy. What do you reckon? I place my bet on comedy again.” He tilted his head up and forced himself to look at the ceiling to stop his tears from spilling off his eyes. “You will always be my girl, Y/N. Always. Wait for me, okay?”

“Dude, you ready?” Pierre walked in and set his hand on Charles’s shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“Yeah, I am. But Pierre, I can’t be late—”

“I know, Charles. I’ll send you home before 10.” Pierre would make sure the hang out will end before the curfew. Having successfully forced his friend to go out on weekend was enough, he couldn’t force him to do anything more than that. He knew it will be a slow step but he will be with Charles within every step he took because he knew you would want to see him happy and learn how to live without you. Even when you were no longer by his side.

Once they stepped out of the apartment, Pierre looked up to the orangy hue in the sky. He knew you were looking out for him, you would always look out for him from above. Charles had told him the sky had always looked beautiful after you passed away. It was as if heaven gained another angel, his angel, along with a piece of his heart and kept it up in the sky for him to keep on reminding himself that you were still here with him, far, distant, but still with him.

“I’m sure you don’t mind me taking Charles away this weekend. You would have wanted this for him too, wouldn’t you? I promise your man is safe with me, Y/N but please, keep on watching him from up there. It gives him the comfort and peace that no one else could give, not even me.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

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

-

-

Here goes nothing and everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However. 

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

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

It’s weird to say it. 

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

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

“Oh, god.”

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

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

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

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

Because they are still the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

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

And you’re going to.

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

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

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

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

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

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

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

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

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

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

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

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

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

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

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

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

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

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

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

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

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

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

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

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

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

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

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

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

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

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

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why should I.”

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

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

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

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

“…So it’s like that?”

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

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

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

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

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

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

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

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

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

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

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

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

“Trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You loved me?”

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

“What?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

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

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

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

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

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

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

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

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He said he still loves me.”

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

“Dom…”

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

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

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

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

“I know.”

“Now.”

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

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

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

“What do I have now.”

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

Huh?

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

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

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

“K.”

Wait, what.

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

His name is molasses on your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s true.” 

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

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

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

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

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

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

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

If you didn’t have to wait. 

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

But why does he seem so—

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

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

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

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

Huh.

What does he mean by—

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

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

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

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

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

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

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

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

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

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

“Doll, let me know because—”

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

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

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

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

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

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

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

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

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

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

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

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

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

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

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

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

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

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

A plate. A bowl after that. 

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

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

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

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

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

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

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

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

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

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

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

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

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

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

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

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

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

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

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

Silence. 

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

“I always worry.” 

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

Shit, that was close. 

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

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

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

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

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

An apology.

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

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

This can’t be it. 

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

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

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

“…Oh.”

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

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

What the hell happened after he left your room?

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

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

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

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

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

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

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

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

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

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

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

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

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, really.”

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

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

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

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

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

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

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

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

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

…Is he paying loans? 

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

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

“So were you.”

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

“It’s whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

“I like it here, though.”

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

“Empty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

And regret others. 

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

“All the time.” 

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

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

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

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

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

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

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

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

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

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

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

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

…Calling should be okay, right?

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

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

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

Fuck. 

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

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

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

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

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

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

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

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

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

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

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

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

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

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

Ah. No finish line in sight.

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

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

“When you get it.”

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

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

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

“See? Claiming shit already.”

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

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

“Just work stuff.”

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

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

“What.”

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

“…I see.”

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

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

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

“Not at you, doll.”

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

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

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

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

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

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

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

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

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

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

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

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

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

“Wait—” 

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

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

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

Yoongi: Missed Call

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

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

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

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

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

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

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

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

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

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

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

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

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s Jimin?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

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

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

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

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

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

“That’s good, at least.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

“Mm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. “Me? How?” 

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

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

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

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

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

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

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

“Mmk.” 

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

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

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

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

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

“You can definitely be upset.” 

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

Only warmth. And understanding. 

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

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

Him? Being more upset than you?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

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

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

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

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

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

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

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

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

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“So?”

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

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

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

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

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

“Go get it, doll.”

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

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

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

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

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

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

“K. Have fun!”

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

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

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

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

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

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

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

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

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

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

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

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

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

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

Painful.

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

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

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

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

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

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

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

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

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

You can’t.

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

Your finger moves a bit closer.

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

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

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

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

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

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

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

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

“Hello?”

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

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

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

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

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

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

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

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

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

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

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

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

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

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

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

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

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

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

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

And your chest has never felt lighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hustler.”

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

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

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

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

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the smartass.”

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

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

“I just… You read.” 

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

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

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

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

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

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

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

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

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

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

And you glitch when you realize why.

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

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

Way too familiar.

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

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

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

Almost everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

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

“Stop.” 

You do. 

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

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

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“The fuck.”

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Are you su—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

“So fucking filthy...” 

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

“Don’t do that.” 

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

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

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking perfect.” 

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

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

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

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

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

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

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

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

“Uh uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly.

He stops. 

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

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

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

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

And again.

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

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

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

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

“Then fucking beg.” 

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

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

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

“Need you, too.” 

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

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

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

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

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now swallow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

It’s not. 

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

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

“Feel so good—”

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

What is he— 

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

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

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

“Yoongi—”

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

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

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

“There you go.” 

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

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

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

“Goddamn.” 

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

Oh, fuck!

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

“Come here.” 

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

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“It missed you, too.”

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

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

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

“Again.” 

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

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

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

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, shit!

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

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

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

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

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

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

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

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

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

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

Does he feel at home, too? 

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

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

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

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

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

“How are you gonna get home?”

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

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

“S’ok.” 

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

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

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

“Maybe try that one more time.”

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

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

“I always do, babe.” 

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

“Miss you.”

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

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

“That’s my fault.” 

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

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

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

“You gave me tonight.” 

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

“A little longer is nothing.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

Us.

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

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

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

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

“We have a game next week.” 

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

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

What’s he doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

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

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

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

“Ah, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you start to hum.

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

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

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

“Shit, was I too loud?”

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

“Not at all.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

For him, you can do anything. 

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

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

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

—

—

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tbc. :) 

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

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

#and the wait is finally over sheeeesh! #bts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #btshoneyhive #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #*latest #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #3tan10 #i hope y'all are ok with how much is in here hahahah #yoongi

[winkwonkwankwenk]

Gojo Head-Cannons!! (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Has modeled a few times just for fun, definitely a Paparazzi-Darling.

Has a major sweet tooth. Will accept any snack if it's high in sugar. He keeps snack cakes and candies in his pockets at all times. He sulks when you make him eat a meal before dessert when the two of you are out, almost like a petulant child. "I'm eating this Spinach because I want to, not because you told me to- and definitely not because it's so fucking good..." He cheers up again the moment you cave and let him run to the chocolate fountain.

Loves traveling. He can't stay in one place long before getting angsty. He'll hop on the nearest train or plane the moment he sees photos of an area, not bothering to pack a bag- he'll just buy whatever he needs while he's there. "Let's go to Morocco tomorrow. Or would you prefer Dubai?"

Black card holder. He's got a couple of them. He leaves most of them laying around the house and has left them in public on occasion. Worst case scenario, he just has to get a new card. Perks of being wealthy.

Shopping sprees! Gojo loves going shopping, so the moment you ask he grabs his keys and runs to the door. Even though shopping was your idea, you end up regretting it. He drags you to every store he sees, making you wait as he changes in the dressing room. He always ends up with hands full of bags, mostly things he brought for you when you weren't looking. He surprises you with gifts as thanks for tagging along.

He has a skincare routine. Toner? Got it. Moisturizer? Got it. You actually use his products because hello- they're clearly working. He also gets his nails and toes done regularly and the two of you often have spa days together. You'll sip and sit, eating fancy wines and cheeses while gossiping. "Did you see what he wore? I would never."

Always scoops you up when it's raining and hides you in his jacket so he can use infinity to block the rain. "Can't have you getting sick." His cheeks are tinted pink when he says this, and all you can do is smile.

Lightweight when it comes to alcohol. A shot gets him tipsy and he makes the worst decisions when he's drunk. You had to stop him from stripping once, and from then on he's never took a sip without you being near.

Loves cuddling. In bed? Yes. At work? Yes. On missions? Hell yeah! Every chance he gets to have you in his arms he eagerly takes.

He's a gym rat. He'll invite you to work out with him and pout if you decline. Sometimes he'll do push-ups with you under him, kissing you every time he goes down. "What? Kisses are my reward for all of this hard work." He'll tease, and then drop down for another. He's seen and heard those audios you have saved, so sometimes he'll taunt you by saying your name each push-up to make that whimpering sound you seem to adore.

Can't cook for shit. He's burned water before. It's funny, the amazing Gojo can't do something as simple as frying an egg or making toast.

Clingy boyfriend! He'll spam call, text, sometimes even show up outside your door with flowers and your favorite sweet. It can be pouring rain outside and he'll still rush over, even as lightning cackles in the sky. That's just how much he loves you.

He's attached to your stuffed animals. You've caught him trying to sneak some out of your place to take to his. You end up caving and letting him take home one squishmellow, he coats your face in kisses after.

Gets jealous easily. He wants all your attention and when he sees you giving it to another guy he'll act nonchalant but really he's holding back the urge to purple-hollow the dude.

Loves dancing. He'll pull you up off the couch or in his arms and loudly blast your song. Your song- the one the two of you listen to all the time. "We'll play this at our wedding for our first dance," he always jokes...sometimes you wonder if he's joking.

He wants children. Whenever the two of you are on a walk and see a family, the children run up to him and beg to play. Something about him radiates paternal energy. The parents of the kids will aways apologize but the two of you laugh it off. "That's going to be us soon, y'know." He'll whisper into your ear before your walk resumes.

It gets...intense when the two of you argue. He's stubborn in his stance, even when it's debating who's turn it is to do the dishes. Part of the problem is he finds you so damn hot when you're mad, the other problem is how he can't take anything seriously. He always plays things off as a joke until he sees how upset you are, and then the guilt will eat away at him. He always apologizes first, accompanied by make-up-gifts. "I shouldn't have said what I did, forgive me?"

He gets overstimulated sometimes because of 6th sense, and you're the first person he calls when it gets bad. Your voice is enough to calm him down, but a kiss on the cheek doesn't hurt.

He said "I love you" first, even with a shaky voice he knew he had to say it then or he never would.

NSFW (Kinky stuff ahead)

Loves making out with you but especially in public. He doesn't care how it makes other people feel, he'll pull you into a sloppily kiss and suck at your lips until they're kiss swollen. Drool, lots of drool, because he's obsessed with the taste of your tongue.

The first time you pulled his hair he made such an embarrassing noise he hasn't let you do it since. On occasion, you manage to sneakily bury your fingers in it and give it a firm tongue. A strangled moan will spill from his lips and then you have about five seconds to run. Good luck.

Pussy eater. Ass eater. He loves your taste. He'll bend you over the kitchen table and eat you out until your legs shake and your juices puddle on the floor. He'll lap your juices up and hold them in his mouth, then let them trickle into your mouth as he kisses you. "Mmm…now you know how good you taste."

He's a switch, perfectly fine with letting you lead on days you want to. His favorite positions are reverse-cowgirl, doggy, and sixty-nine. He loves when you sit on his face, nothing turns him on more than having your pussy on his skin. He likes to tell you how good you taste, even when his tongue is buried inside of you.

Three rounds isn't enough- he needs days. If you can still walk when he's done then back to the bedroom you go.

Pink tip. His cock is roughly eight inches, decently thick. He knows how to use it, and that's what really matters. Cum flavor is sweet, what did you expect from a man who's diet is 90% sugar?

He's a foreplay fan, thus why he loves making out with you. He also finds it so fun to finger you, play with your clit until you squirt. "This is where you're weak right?" He knows all of your favorite spots and especially the ones that push you over the edge until you're a soaking wet mess.

He'll try anything once, several times if he enjoys it of course. That's why he lets you peg him on occasion. He's let you cuff him down to the bed a few times. He's even worn a maid outfit for you.

He likes cumming on your skin, leaving his semen sprayed on you like a glaze. He also likes watching you swallow, it makes him shiver because you do it so eagerly. He'll still cum on your face after.

He's a loud lover. The neighbors better hear, or else he's not putting enough back into it. He knows he's doing good when you're screaming and squealing and there's knocking on the front door. "Good girl, let them hear how good I make you feel."

Bomb make-up sex. Whatever the two of you were fighting about doesn't matter now, not when he's ramming into you and holding your legs behind your head. How are you supposed to be mad when he's fucking you senseless?!

Steals your panties and finds it funny when you find them at his place. You've lectured him about it hundreds of times but his only response is a smug smirk. "Come on, I'm serious! I don't know how they got here." and "You must've left them last time you came over."

Only pulls out because he knows you trust him enough to let him hit raw. "Can I pleeease cum inside?" He always asks when he's close, and always respects whatever decision you make.

Aftercare is mostly cuddles, kisses, and takeout from your favorite places. He'll casually go to the door naked, jumpscaring the delivery person but since he tips them double what the food costs they never say much besides thank you. He'll feed you, then bathe with you when you can walk again. He likes to wash your hair, put on your lotion, help you put on fresh pajamas, and then he'll tuck you back into bed. "Rest up," he always says before you drift off.

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#Wink writes 💗 #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo headcanons #jjk satoru #gojo jjk #gojo saturo #jjk headcanons

[msjaeger]

That Wasn't In The Script (Actor AU)

//// Btw this contains hints to spoilers from the last episode/ chapter 139 so if for some reason you haven't watched it, DO NOT READ!!!!///

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So tell me, guys. How do you guys feel knowing that the Attack on Titan is officially over? Like, that show will forever go down in history!"

Allen, the host of the official Attack on Titan talkshow Attack the Talk, asked your castmates and yourself. You were currently sitting on the stage in between Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirschtein, with the rest of your cast, Mikasa Ackermann, Armin Arlert, Connie Springer, Levi Ackermann, Reiner Braun and Annie Leonhart. You could see a few of your old castmates, those who were killed off in meaning, behind the stage watching with smiles on their faces.

"Let's start with you Ms. L/n, shall we?" The audience clapped as you bashfully smiled at Allen. Sure, you were a main character in one of the best fictional TV shows of the century. But you sucked at public speaking. At least acting was really only your castmates and wonderful team watching at the moment.

You cleared your throat before speaking, feeling your friends' eyes on you and giving you supportive looks.

"Well, Allen, this franchise has been part of my entire life. Literally. I started this show when I was about 9 and now I'm 19. So it ending is almost like the end of my childhood, which may seem kind of sad but it was fun while it lasted and I got to meet these wonderful people that I can joyfully call my family." You feel Eren lift his long legs onto your lap and you stop talking and stare at him.

"Get your nasty ass feet off of my dress."

Eren shook his head playfully and gave you a charming smile. "Nah. You said we're family and family lets their family rest their feet on them." You knock his feet off of you.

"Yeah but not when they're wearing a thousand-dollar dress. Let me finish my little speech, Jaeger." Eren held his hands up defensibly, causing the crowd to burst out laughing from the scene of the dynamic between you two.

"As I was saying before bird-boy over here interrupted. It's easy to say that I'll talk to these people outside of the show and end up never speaking to them again like other casts do but it's different. I grew up with these people so throwing them away would be like throwing my childhood away as well."

The crowd clapped at your little speech, along with your castmates. Expect Eren was literally clapping in your ear. "You're so childish, Eren." You chuckle.

"Only for you, L/n." He grins.

"How about... Connie! How do you feel about the show ending?" Allen moves on to hear other, hopefully just as sentimental, speeches.

Connie ponders for a moment, trying to figure how to answer the question as truthfully as possible. He fiddles with his expensive tie before seemingly having his words together.

"At least we won't be drug tested every three months. I'm gonna be fried every day!"

"No fucking way he just said that." You whisper.

The crowd falls into an awkward silence at Connie's... revelation. You watch as Jean smacks the back of his head. "Shut your bald ass up, Springer. We're 19 and 20 so smoking gas is still illegal, dumbfuck." Jean whispers harshly. Connie's face falls.

"Oops."

"Um... I'll just... can we edit this out?" Allen asks nervously. The cameraman shakes his head. "We're live, remember?" Levi lets his face fall into his hands, mumbling profanities to himself.

"Time for Audience Q & A!" Allen changes the subject quickly. That seemed to distract everyone watching in the crowd as people began to raise their hands, hoping to be picked.

Allen hopes down into the crowd and makes his first decision. "You! With the... Y/n x Smiling Titan shirt?" You hear Eren cackle beside you as you elbow him. "Shut it, you howling witch."

A man who looks like he hasn't showered since the premiere of the show and seemed a bit too old to be fixated on a show involving younger kids was chosen. Not to mention he had shipped you with the smiling Titan.

"He looks like a Discord mod," Jean mutters in your ear.

"Jean, that's mean. It may be true but it's mean." Jean rolls his eyes and gives you a cocky grin.

"It's only mean if it's not true."

"This question is for Y/n." The man announced into the microphone. He had a lisp and not the cute and barely noticeable sort that Armin had. Jean and Eren slightly stiffen.

"Let him ask you some weird shit, Y/n. I'll beat his ass on camera." Eren mutters. Jean watched warily as you waited patiently for the man's question.

"Who is your favourite character from the entire show? And why as well." The man's spit sprays into the mic due to how severe his lisp was and Allen visibly winced.

You think for a moment.

"Probably Eren's character." Eren jumps out of his seat and starts acting like a child.

"Boom, she said I'm her favourite. You all can suck my di-" You grab Eren's sleeve and yank him back into his place next to you.

"Sit your grown ass down."

"Sorry."

"Someone please take the boy into his seat." Levi pleads quietly while rubbing his temples. He had dealt with Eren for the past ten years and still couldn't handle his... personality.

"As I was saying. Eren is probably my favourite character because of how tragic he is and what he represents. He wanted freedom so badly that he never realized that he was a slave to it, which is such a great parallel if you think about it. He purposely hurt his friends in order to protect them too, knowing that they'd be the ones to kill him. I could go on for hours about this but we're on a time crunch so I can't." You chuckle nervously. You feel Eren smiling at you widely from your analysis of his character.

The man seemed content with your response and sat down. "Alright, who's next?" A girl raises her hand and Allen seems to think she's normal enough and hands her the mic.

"Hi, my name is Amelia and just want to say that Jean is so fine and that he doesn't look like a horse most days." Eren, Connie and yourself had to stifle laughter as you watched Jean pursed his lips, contemplating how to take that comment. Allen sighs and raises the mic to his lips.

"Please refrain from... whatever that was."

More people asked questions that were surpringly normal and everyone on stage at least answered five times. A little boy, around the age of 9, eventually got the mic and he looked extremely nervous to talk. His mom gave him encouraging words and he took a deep breath.

"H-Hi my name is Jackson. I-I was wondering if I could take a picture with everyone to show everyone at show-and-tell." He asked poliety. Your heart melted at how adorable the little boy was. You wave up him up on stage.

"Of course! Come up here, little man." Jackson broke out into a toothy grin and ran up to the stage as fast as his little legs could carry him. Armin helped him up onto the stage and Jackson's mom came closer to the stage to take the picture.

Jackson stood in front of you and you placed two hands on his shoulder. You smiled and felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulder before the picture was taken. It was Eren.

Jackson, after the picture was taken, turned around and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Thank you so much!" He exclaims. You wrap his arms around him as well, "Of course Jackson. If it's alright with your mom, I would love it if she sent the picture to me.". Jackson's eyes widened.

"Mommy, please send her the picture!".

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:.

As the end of the talk show neared, Allen had returned to his seat and faced the camera.

"As the end of the last Attack the Talk episode nears, I wanted to do something special for the cast. I've gathered everyone going back all the way to season 1 right now and we are going to play a special video we've prepared for today. Everyone, if you could come out."

You watched as people you hadn't seen for years entered the stage. People such as Petra, Carla, Marco, Moblit. Everyone. You saw Sasha and Historia, who you hung out with just as much as the rest of the cast but you were still excited to see them.

Everyone gathers in front of the big screen, waiting to see what the crew has prepared for a final goodbye.

"You guys all worked hard, whether you were killed off in the first episode or survived until the very end. You all played a vital role in the story that is Attack on Titan and we all thank you. So we decided to put together a montage, if you will, to share your behind-the-scenes experiences one more time. I really hope you enjoy it."

You turn your attention to the big screen as it begins to play. The first scene was of you, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin as little kids. It was a scene from the very beginning of season 1. You guys were running around the town until you tripped over a loose rock and flew through the air. You still had the scar from the rough landing. You heard the director yell a stammered, "C-Cut! Someone gets the medic!".

The scene cut to the next, where Eren was yelling at Hannes for being a lazy drunk before he stumbled over his words, causing Hannes to burst out laughing. "Cut!"

Blooper after blooper, you watched yourself grow up. And it felt really weird. Nostolgic but extremely weird. There was a scene where Connie and Jean were supposed to be arguing about plans to kill Eren during Season 4 but things turned... odd.

"Bro if you don't watch what you're saying, I might have to dick you down!" Connie screams passionately. Jean scoffs. "You wish you could dick me down the way I dicked your dad down!" Jean screams back.

"Jokes on you, my dad got turned into a Titan!" You stare at Jean, who looks like he is about to run into oncoming traffic. He makes eye contact with you and begins to stammer quietly.

"We were joking, I swear!" He whispers harshly. You pat his bicep. "It's okay, Jean. I support you."

"Go to hell."

The scene shifted into a picture where Jean and Connie were about to be turned into titans in the last episode but instead of having their arms around each other's shoulders, like scripted, their hands rested on each other's asses.

You lean into Jean's shoulder and let out a muffled laugh. "Shut up before I make you bald as Connie." He threatened lowly. "And how would you do that, mate?"

"I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Your eyes widen in horror at his statement. "Please don't! I love my hair." You frown. Jean shrugged and stretched an arm around you and rested his arm. "I'm not an armrest, horsey."

"Fuck off."

The very last scene was when everyone had visited Eren's grave, a sentimental moment in the show.

Okay, not really.

"Bro really had to wipe out 80 percent of the population, huh." Mikasa scoffs beside you. You shake your head. "Right? Like if you're gonna wipe out humanity, do it right. He really let us stop him with only 20 percent left. Weak!" You look down at the grave.

A fork can be seen flying across the camera and hitting you in the head. "What the fuck?!" You screech, searching around for the culprit.

"Stop insulting my character!" Eren yells as he runs into the frame and tackles you. Before you could hit your head on the ground, Eren placed his hand behind your head to make sure you didn't injure your head. But he still had to get payback.

You could hear the director sigh from behind the camera and mumbling about taking a smoke break. Suddenly, Sasha had run into the frame as well and jumped on Mikasa and Connie and you watched as everyone began running around like children, tackling each other and laughing.

The video faded into black and remained blank until two words in white cursive faded into view.

Thank You.

_________-____________--______________---_______________----

Idk how I feel abt this because I've been dead on Tumblr for like a year or smth. But I forced myself to resurrect because Attack on Titan is over and idk what to do with my life anymore😜 anywho lmk if I should make a part two because this is really iffy for me.

#eren jaeger x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #attack on titan season 4 #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot actor au

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

#hannigram #hannigram fanfics #hannigram recs #hannigram fic recs #murder husbands #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal tv show #gracie reads hannigram #sensational fic #the stress-sex connection fic #hold me kiss me rip out my tongue fic #ligare fic #oboedire implorare vovere fic #to the devil his due fic #bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh fic #do you feel the hunger does it howl inside fic

[luvrxbunny]

idk

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Prompt: Praise 

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, praise (kinda like body worship), age-gap, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.8k

A/N: this might suck im so sorry, its super rushed. also I couldn't think of a name (not proofread at all)

You shake your head as your friends laugh. They always think it’s funny, and although it doesn’t bother you very much, it’s still quite annoying. Your friends seem to think that your relationship with Joel is a fling, some sort of manic, impulsive decision to date someone so much older than you. You’ve explained to them over and over again that what you have with Joel is as real as it gets. You’ve never been more in love with anyone, but they think you’re dickmatized, they’re waiting for you to ‘snap out of it’.

“I told you guys, I love him.” You state before finishing your drink, rolling your eyes at the way they giggle. You check your phone for updates but all you get is Joel’s same ‘15 minutes away.’ text that was there the last time you checked. You pray that every light he comes across is green and the streets are empty, you want to get out of here as soon as possible. 

“I don’t even know if I believe that!” Stacey is drunker than she should be, saying things she shouldn’t be. You’ve grown used to it now, she’s the one who has the most to say about your relationship. “I feel like you treat him like…” She laughs abruptly. “Like he’s your boss or something!” She cackles again at the way your face drops. “And he- he could be, ‘cause he’s so old.” You take a deep breath and look up at her, your face blank as her laughter dies down. 

“Joel is-” Just uttering his name from your lips brings a smile to your face. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He understands me, my needs, and my wants in a way that I don’t even understand. I’ve known him for a year and a half now, I’ve known you much longer, yet he knows more about me than you ever will. He’s my everything and that’s never gonna change. I’m not upset at you, just to clarify.” You say with a soft chuckle. “I think all of this is coming from a place of jealousy if I’m being completely honest. I hope that you find someone who loves you like you’re his entire universe.” You begin to collect your things, deciding you can wait for Joel outside. 

“He makes me feel like an angel, like-” You laugh at their shocked and confused expressions. They have no clue what you’re talking about, it makes you pity them a bit, but it mostly makes you happy, feeling lucky you were able to find it. “Anyway…” You chuckle awkwardly and stand to leave. “That’s how I feel about him. So, if you could like… not, say things insinuating that I don’t love my boyfriend, I would really love that.” You smile and awkwardly bow/curtsey at them, waving and walking away. You’re a bit embarrassed at the silence in the room as you walk away. You turn the corner as quickly as you can and jump at the man standing in the middle of the foyer. 

“Joel!? Oh- You scared the shit outta me!” You place a hand over your heart with a smile, taking deep breaths as you walk toward him. “Did you text? I’m sorry there was an… altercation.” He nods at you slowly and only then do you realize his stare. It’s different from the one you usually get, softer, more watery somehow. “I know.” He pauses to take a deep breath as you reach him. His hand reaches out for yours and you take it with a confused smile as you both start walking to the front door. “I uh- I heard actually.”

Joel feels your hand tense in his for a moment as you let out a nervous giggle. “Oh! That- That’s great.” You chuckle and glance up at him for a moment, mumbling. “That’s so embarrassing.” He laughs gently at that, his hand leaving yours once you guys reach the car. “That’s not true, darlin’.” He says as he climbs into the car. You’re chuckling quietly, still embarrassed as you ride home in near silence, the only noise being the little hum of the radio. 

He doesn’t bring it up until after dinner, you’re both on the couch, in Joel's shirt, watching some movie that recently came out but Joel’s mind is on the rant he heard from you earlier. He had shown up unannounced due to his phone dying mid-way through the drive-over. He heard Stacey mention the way you act toward him, how unaffectionate you were. Joel doesn’t necessarily agree with that but he’s definitely questioned your feelings toward him before, constantly wondering if you actually like him or if you’re just lonely. So of course he wanted to hear your answer, he prepared himself for the worst, held his breath, grit his teeth, and waited for the pain of your answer. His heart stuttered when you paused after “Joel is-” 

He was ready to hear the most heartbreaking words tumble from your mouth next, but then you said he was the best thing to ever happen to you, and his heart stopped. His eyes went wide as you rambled on, saying wonderful thing after wonderful thing. He felt his heart tremble inside his chest, loving the things you were saying, and the way you were defending him against your friends. The fact that you were outwardly announcing the extreme feelings you have for him made so many different emotions swirl through him. He was in a daze until you turned the corner, and he’s fallen into that same one again. 

You can feel Joel staring at you, you can see his head turned your way from the corners of your eye. You’re trying to ignore it, but he clears his throat and you turn toward him. “You okay?” His face is a bit frantic and he’s looking at you in that way again, the one you couldn’t really explain. He’s taking slow breaths and turns to you, letting you know this was going to be a whole conversation. You face him, letting the TV play because you don’t even understand the movie anyway. 

“Why don’t you talk to me that way?” His question baffles you. You glace over at the TV, seeing if he's referring to something that happened in the movie but come up with nothing. You turn back to him slowly, watching his expectant, worried expression, and furrow your brows at him, prompting him to explain himself. “Back at Stacey’s house, you were sayin’ real nice things.” You feel the temperature in the room rise as embarrassment creeps into your bones. 

‘Why don’t you talk to me that way?’

“Do you want me to?” You ask concerned. You would never want to even imagine that Joel isn’t feeling loved enough, that you’re not giving him enough, despite all the things you do for him. You reach out for him, waving your hands toward yourself to motion him closer. His head is hung, staring at the couch’s cushions as he scoots himself to you. “I can start telling you all this stuff. I- Honestly I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.” You giggle nervously and take a sudden interest in the couch's patterns. 

Joel’s shocked to his core at your words but quickly takes your opening. “I’d really like it if you’d tell me... I get worried that maybe you don’t- “ He takes a deep breath, his chest heaving with a sigh. “That maybe you don’t like me as much as I-” You cut him off with a hurt, yet firm, “No!”

“Joel you’re so so-” You grunt, unable to explain the way he makes you feel. “You just- You’re everything good, and positive, and amazing in this world.” His entire body relaxes as he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’re perfect. You can’t even argue with me on that. You’re literally my dream guy. You’re kind, even though you’re hot enough that you probably don’t even need to be as nice as you are. You care about me and my feelings even though I’d probably just let you use my body, and throw me away if you really wanted. I-” You pause and take a breath- already worried about how he’ll take some of the things you’ve said. You give him a shy smile, a small laugh slipping out at his dazed look. 

Joel couldn’t breathe as you spoke. His heart was swelling at every word, but there was also a dull hum in his lower stomach that was growing the longer you did. It flares up when you meet his eyes, giving him that pretty smile he loves so much. His head is all jumbled up. He doesn’t know if you’ve asked him something or if he should be responding. All he knows is that he really wants- really needs more. “Can-” He clears his throat, stalling and trying to clear his mind a bit. “Could you tell me more about- about my looks? How-” He feels anxiety flare in his chest as he requests. He’s looking at his hands, examining his knuckles, completely terrified at how you’ll react to the request, scared that you’ll have a look on your face that’ll break his heart. “How do you feel about ‘em?”

Joel has to fight the urge to run his fingers through his hair, run his nails along his beard to comb it and maybe cover the patches. He’s already regretting asking you. He didn’t get enough sleep last night, he probably has bags and he can’t even begin to think about how many gray hairs he has littering his head, and his beard. This shirt is a little too tight too, he can feel his stomach pressing against the fabric.

What do I expect her to say? Fuck, this was a stupid fuckin’ idea. I should’ve at least looked in goddamn mir-

His thoughts are cut off by a squeal and your shaking body. You’re wiggling yourself back and forth on the couch, bouncing in excitement. “Oh my god, Joel, I have so much to say.” He’s astonished at your excitement, at how eager you are to praise him. He can feel the humming in his stomach intensify. “You’re so-” Your voice drops to an adorably shy whisper. “You’re so fucking hot.” He lets out a soft gasp as you straighten your back, place your hands in your lap, and put on a semi-serious face before speaking. 

“So the first thing that’s coming to mind right now is your thighs.” His eyes flicker down, but it doesn’t clarify anything. “How big they are, how thick and meaty- Ugh! I love them so much!” His heart warms and his pulse races at the way you’re smiling, as though telling him these things brings you actual, genuine, joy. “So next I’d like to mention your arms- oh, your arms. They’re so thick, you’re so strong” Your hand comes up slowly to squeeze his bicep, then caress it softly and he can feel himself hardening in his pants. He finally understands the feelings your words cause, he’s grateful, feeling incredibly loved, and insanely turned on. 

“Now I wanna talk about your shoulders! Okay so, what really messes me up like- in general, is how fucking-” You take a shaky breath, that shy smile on your face again as you look at his lap, almost crying at how empty it looks. He notices your hesitance, where your gaze is and he sits back, opening his legs a bit wider and tilting his head toward it. He’s ready to have you on him, for you to know how this is affecting him. His breathing is already speeding up at the thought, watching you climb into his lap. You gasp, eyes wide, a devious smile on your face as you stare at him after feeling the way he's pressing into his jeans for you. “Joel…” Your tone is teasing but playful, bringing a smile to his face as you settle yourself in his lap. 

“You like this? That’s why you want me to talk to you all nice?” His mouth drops open as his hips tilt up, pressing into you as his cock hardens fully. You can feel him filling out his boxers as he nods eagerly at you. You’re grinning as he lowers his hips back down but keeps a small grind for his personal sanity. “Can you keep-”

You’re nodding and continuing before he can finish. “You’re so big, Joel.” The compliment comes out as a whine and you tilt your hips toward him, pressing your chest against his, and your clit into the tip of his dick. He’s groaning your name and bringing his hands to your hips, pushing you into him. “You’re so broad, m-makes me feel so safe.”

He’s kissing your cheek as you speak, grinding up into you, and pressing your hips to him. Your head is getting clouded, consumed with your love for Joel, with the pleasure you’re giving him. “You- Your hair.” His heart stutters slightly, nervous about what you’ll say. “The curls, and it’s so soft and-” Your eyes slip shut as your hips take over, moving on their own as you grip Joel’s hair, pulling him into your chest. “The salt and pepper look is so good, Joel.”

“Fuck me.” His eyes roll back and his hands push your hips up. His hands fumble with his belt as you smother him in your chest, whining about how much you love him. “Love that this turns you on s’much, baby. It’s so fucking cute.” He can hear the smile in your voice and his eyes roll back as he lets out a sweet moan of your name, pressing the heel of his palm into his dick for a moment. 

“Sweetheart, I gotta-” His words are broken by a whine as he finally gets his cock out of his pants, wrapping his warm hand and pumping his cock perfectly. He could cum like this, with you above him, telling him about every feature of his and how it affects you. Your hips are still swiveling in the air as you speak, waiting and looking for something to press against your pussy. It’s the only reason he doesn’t just keep jerking himself to your words. “I gotta fuck you, darlin’. Need you so bad, I want you so much.”

You don’t even look back, you just pull your panties aside, and lower yourself onto him, trusting that he’ll lead himself to the right hole. You’re clinging to his neck as you sink down, moaning his name over and over as he stretches you out. “You’re so tight, baby. Holy shit.” You clench down on him, and pull out of his neck, pressing a sloppy kiss against his mouth. 

He’s thrusting into you slowly, hands gripping your hips to keep your rhythm steady. You’re letting out beautiful moans and little mumbles into his lips, not having the restraint to pull away for even one second. Joel slides his hand from your hip, up your back to hold the back of your neck gently, and pulls you away from him. “What is it, honey?” 

He’s breathless as he fucks into you, his dick pulsing already. He grunts and closes his eyes as you moan incoherent words at him. You’re trying to answer him, your brain has completely turned to mush from the way he’s pounding into you. “-eyes are so p-pretty.” 

Joel’s eyes snap open again. “Your lips are so soft and-” You’re still praising him, still rattling off your list of things that you find arousing about him. He doesn’t understand how you even have this much material, how even though you’re too fucked out to grind yourself on his cock properly, but you can still talk all about how much he turns you on, and how beautiful you think he is. He can feel his balls tightening. 

His hand cups your face, sticking his thumb into your mouth as you whine and hump him harder. He’s trying not to focus too much on how warm, and wet your mouth is and slips his thumb out, ignoring the whimper you give. He relishes in the groan that’s pulled from your chest as he puts pressure on your aching, swollen clit. He’s rubbing circles before you can finish your moan of his name, your eyes roll back, and your body tenses. Joel’s in shock at how quickly he’s got you cumming around him. Your pussy spasms and your hips jerk against him with your mouth open in a silent moan. 

Joel keeps his finger running over your clit as he watches you cum, still thrusting into you, chasing that last push he needs to fall over the edge. You give it to him without him having to ask. “Fuck me so perfect, Joey-” You pitch up into a whine and tangle your hands in his hair roughly. “A g-good boy, such a great guy-” You’re cut off as he bucks into you, his hips lifting off the couch completely, almost throwing you off as he groans and fills you to the brim.

He’s resting his head against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you and holding your body to his as he throbs inside you, spilling all he has into your pulsing hole. He's huffing out groans in time with the ropes his dick is spurting into you, his entire body shaking as pleasure takes him over. You’re encouraging him the whole time, talking him through his orgasm, helping him tame the fire that’s raging through him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#oel miller #joel miller x reader #joelxreader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou hbo #pedro pascal last of us #the last of us smut #smut #nsft #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel fic #kinktober 2023 #sub!joel miller smut

[sylveon-official]

huskerdust mpreg wip next chapter pv

should be out tonight or tomorrow! :)

-

“So… let me get this straight…” Vaggie narrows her eyes pointedly at the way Angel is halfway in Husk’s lap. “You two have been fucking—”

“Ahem,” Angel interjects.

Vaggie heaves a long-suffering sigh, rubbing at her temples as if a migraine is coming on before continuing, “— engaging in a physioemotional situationship - Angel’s words - for months and Husk somehow knocked up Angel with heaven-sent sperm because someone upstairs screwed up,” Vaggie summarizes.

“Yep,” Angel confirms, popping the ‘p’. “That’s pretty much the gist of it. Wild stuff, ain’t it?”

“The first part? No, you’ve been keeping half the hotel up with your big ‘secret’ for ages, Charlie just wouldn’t let me do shit about it!” Vaggie grumbles, sinking into the couch with crossed arms.

“Hmph!” Angel pouts, knees encroaching further on Husk’s lap while his four arms wind even tighter around his middle.

Husk keeps his lips zipped, more than willing to let the chaos pass before entering the discussion in any meaningful way.

“They werent ready to tell us yet!” Charlie insists, looping an arm through Vaggie’s.

“I knew,” Nifty giggles wildly, temporarily pausing the game of Russian roulette she’s currently playing with a cockroach. “I listen to them through the vents every night,” she ends on a wild cackle.

"Oh, come on, Nif!” Husk cries as Angel throws his head back with a good-natured laugh. Little freaks, all of ‘em, Husk thinks.

“My, my, well this is quite a conundrum,” Alastor posits, twirling his cane as he sidles up to stand next to Angel. “Not only has our star pupil fallen pregnant out of wedlock, but I’d imagine this poses a little problem for your…. line of work,” Alastor smirks, leaning forward on his cane to grin in Angel’s face. “If you’re interested in striking a deal, I may be willing to—”

“No,” Husk and Vaggie cut in at the same time.

Alastor’s eyes flick over towards Husk and narrow just slightly. Husk barely manages to suppress the urge to shrink into himself, instead drawing Angel closer to his chest. 

Thankfully, Vaggie launches into an explanation, “There will be no deals and, really, you two probably shouldn’t make any decisions until we know how much the folks up there have to do with this,” Vaggie concludes on a sneer. 

#mpreg #huskerdust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust #husk x angel dust #angel dust x husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #writing

[straykids-gives-me-life]

Euphoria - JJK

Paring: Jeon Jungkook x Fem!reader

Type: One-shot

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Lil bit of angst.

Warnings: smut, dom!jk, sub!reader, pet names, praise kink, fingering, Jungkook being complicated, major fluff throughout - especially at the end.

Summary: You and Jungkook sit next to each other in English class and it's only when your professor assigns every pair with a project that the two of you begin to realise how much you really feel.

A/N: This one is gonna be long and it might drag on so deepest apologies for that but enjoy the ride!!

You and Jungkook sit next to each other in English class.

The two of you have never gotten along.

"Hey Y/N, have you ever thought of wearing a mask?" Jungkook asks.

"No, why?" you reply, turning to send an unamused look to the boy.

"Because then I wouldn't have to see your ugly face every day," he cackles.

"Jungkook, Y/N, can we be quiet please," your professor says. "So, as I was saying, I will be assigning you and your partners with a project to complete over the next two weeks-"

Your face drops.

So does Jungkook's.

"-and I will be choosing what tasks you must complete for the specific type of story I ask you to write. So, one of you come up here to the front and queue next to my desk for me to give you a subject. You will have the rest of this lesson to plan what you will do with the prompt I give you."

You let out a quiet groan, but Jungkook manages to hear you.

Of course, he has to make an unnecessary comment.

"You're upset, at least I'm good looking! I have to put up with your ugly ass in my spare time for two weeks straight."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Jungkook," you say, standing up and walking away to get the prompt.

You walk over to your teacher's desk and join the queue.

After around three minutes, you reach the front of the line and receive your prompt.

"I want you and Jungkook to really bond over these next two weeks so with this, I want you to use this polaroid to take photos to prove to me that you and him have solved all conflicts. Use this to create a comic book kind of layout," he explains.

"Sir, you have to be joking."

"Nope, now get on with it," he says, handing you a polaroid and a small notebook to mate notes in for the actual project.

"What!?" Jungkook shouts when you tell him causing the whole class to look over at the two of you in confusion, your professor shaking his head.

Walking away felt like the worse decision of your life because you could only imagine the look on Jungkook's face when you tell him

---

"Look, I don't want this as much as you do but we have to just get it over with," you explain, placing the camera in front of him.

"I know you're way better than me at photography, so I'll let you have that."

Walking out of class with Jungkook hot on your heels was a strange feeling, he had never followed you out before.

"Don't try and suck up to me now, Y/N," he snaps, rolling his eyes and pushing his hair back in anger.

---

He grabs you by the shoulder and pushed you up against the lockers, his figure towering over yours with his hands pressed on the doors beside your head.

"Listen to me now, you freak," he snarls. "Just because I am spending the next two weeks with you doesn't mean I will begin to feel any less hatred against you, understand?"

"Jungkook, I couldn't give a fuck less what you will think of me by the end of this project, because I'll still hate you just as much."

Shoving his arms from next to you, you walk away flipping him off with an angered frown on your face.

This will be an entertaining two weeks.

The next period was lunch, and you were so grateful to spend it with your best friend, Jimin.

Jimin was surprisingly good friends with Jungkook which was pretty hard for you since the two of you hate each other's guts.

Because of this, it wasn't a shock to you when you found him sat with Jungkook when you walked into the cafeteria, a small smile on lips.

"Can you move?" you ask the boy, stood behind him.

"Do you hear that, Jimin?" Jungkook asks in response.

"Haha, very funny, now get the fuck up and go away."

"She's feisty," he chuckles.

You sit down next to Jungkook but shove your elbow into him, pushing him off the bench.

"Thank you," you smirk, looking down at him on the floor.

He sends you a death glare and scrambles up off the floor before quickly walking off.

"Do you have to be so mean to each other all the time?" Jimin questions, shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

The next day, you had to begin your project with Jungkook.

"Yes."

---

Both of you were not looking forward to this at all but it was okay for this lesson as the two of you got to work separately to take background photos for the comic.

Jungkook took the camera around the classroom and outdoor field, snapping pictures of the papers and trees, letting them develop on the floor before taking them back in.

You were left with the drawing board.

You drew out the base of the comic sheet, the squares as to where each photo would go, where the text will go and who will illustrate each page.

To avoid argument, you ignored Jungkook when he returned to his chair, spreading out the photos on the desk and choosing his favourites.

You couldn't help but admire him sometimes.

Now was one of those times.

You knew you shouldn't but it never mattered as to how much you hated him, you had to admit he was pretty.

His hair hung over his eyebrow, his tongue poked out of his mouth to mess with his lip ring and his nose scrunched when he disagreed with himself.

Unfortunately for you, he caught you looking.

"See something you like, freak?" he asks, sending you a dirty look.

You scoff, roll your eyes and look away.

Why did he have to be such a dick all the time?

"Have you chosen the photos for the first page yet?" You question, flipping the paper back to the opening page where four empty boxes lay, waiting for photos to be stuck in them.

"Give me time," he says. "This takes time y'know?"

"Yeah right."

"Okay then. How about you go out and try to take photos of whatever could fit in this fucking comic!" Jungkook exclaimed.

"Jungkook!" shouted your professor. "I will not be hearing any more of that language, do you understand?"

Jungkook simply nods at him before turning back to you, his annoyance clear on his face.

You look away from him because you know he's right, it must take a lot of thinking to try and get some of the shots he did.

"That's what I thought," he mumbles.

---

For the rest of the hour, you and Jungkook didn't speak much, all it consisted of was him passing you the photos he liked and then pointing to where he think they'd look best.

"No, Jungkook, it would look better on the left," you said.

"No, on the right."

And even though he was still being a complete asshat, you quite liked working relatively well together, him concentrated on his pictures and you focusing on where to place them and such.

It was nice.

---

The following day you didn't have English.

Which meant you and Jungkook were going to have to actually meet up alone to do work.

Did I say that clear enough?

Alone.

You still hadn't figured out how you would even ask him as he's never willing to stay around you for more than 5 seconds if he doesn't have to.

Then... you cracket it.

All you had to do was ask Jimin to tell Jungkook to meet you at the end of the day near the front gate.

And boom, you wouldn't have to speak to him.

But when break came around, you discovered that Jimin wasn't in today.

Shit.

There was no way you could go looking for Jungkook.

It just felt so wrong.

As if the devil himself could read your mind, Jungkook appeared from around the corner.

You hated this.

Running over to him, you tapped his shoulder lightly.

He turned to face you with a small smirk on his face.

"Yes?"

"Look, before you say anything, this is solely for the purpose of the project-"

Why the fuck did you say that?

Silly bitch.

"Would you meet me at the front gate after school so we can start work on our project? Maybe we could go to the park or something?" You ask.

"Ugh, I completely forgot we'd have to do that." Jungkook groans. "Fine, but instead of going to the park, we'll just go to my place and stay in the garage, it's pretty empty in there and I don't want your ugly ass in my room or house."

"Oh okay." You respond, not expecting him to take you to where he lives.

"Are you going to leave or just stand here and embarrass yourself even more?" He grins.

You roll your eyes at him and walk away, giving him the finger as you left the cafeteria.

---

The whole day had dragged on since you had asked Jungkook to meet you.

You didn't really know why but you suspected it was because you weren't looking forward to it at all.

You just quickly had to grab something from your locker before you left to see him.

Opening your locker, you felt someone glaring at you.

It was Jebu.

That asshole.

"Can I help you?" You asked, turning to stare at him.

"No, I was just wondering why you chose him over me."

"Sorry? Chose who?"

"Jungkook, obviously," he says. "I thought we had something."

"We did," you said. "But then you ruined it. So who's fault is that?"

He scoffs and walks over to you, placing a hand on your waist.

"Jebu, can you please get your hand off me?" You asked.

"Why?" He responded. "You used to like it when I did that."

"Not anymore."

Jebu doesn't listen to you and keeps his hand firm on your waist.

"Come on, Jebu, just let go. I need to meet up with Jungkook for our project."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he smirks.

"Then let me do it for you," a voice says from a little away from the two of you.

The boy shoves Jebu out the way and knocks him to the floor.

"She told you to get off."

That voice...

It sounded awfully familiar.

The boy turned and it was only when you saw his face that you realised who it was.

Jeon Jungkook.

"Jungkook... why did you-?"

He cuts you off.

"The only person who gets to be mean to you, is me," he says. "Now pick your bag up and come with me."

It took you a moment to process what he had said and and although it wasn't the nicest of comments, it did make you feel a little warm inside.

That even though the two of you hate each other as much as you do, he still helped you.

But anyways, pushing that behind you, you grabbed your bag and folder from your locker and followed Jungkook out to his car.

A black Mercedes.

"Cool car," you say, admiring it's perfectly shiny exterior.

"Thanks, I guess."

The inside was even more luxury.

With those white leather seats and a midnight black gearstick.

It was so pretty and you couldn't get enough of it.

Maybe Jungkook driving you around wasn't so bad as long as you stayed in this car.

---

When you got to his place, he immediately took you into the garage.

"Like I said," he begins. "I don't want you and your disgusting self in my house."

And he was back to being an asshole.

Opening the garage door, Jungkook was quick to point out where everything was.

Things like the bathroom, and where he kept his spare pens and such.

He had a small mini fridge in the corner filled with coke and beers if you wanted one.

The coke, maybe, but you took a hard pass on the beers for now.

The last thing you wanted to be doing was drinking with Jeon Jungkook.

You would never forgive yourself.

Sitting down at the nearest table, you open the folder with the comic plan in and the comic itself.

"Do you have any more of the photos or did we go through them all yesterday?" You ask.

"I still have a couple more but they're shit," Jungkook says, sitting across from you.

"Oh."

Now that you were here, you didn't know what to do.

"So I think what sir was saying is he wants us to take photos of us being with each other everyday for the next two weeks and then have like a page per day," Jungkook explains.

You knew it was weird of you to do so but you couldn't help but stare at his lips when he was talking.

His looks had always been your weakness.

"So what, do we just take a photo of each other and that's it?" You ask.

"I guess so, but I think we're meant to actually spend time together but I'm all for it if you leave now."

You hated how snarky he was.

He grabs the camera before you can, snapping a photo of your annoyed face before throwing the polaroid and camera back at you.

---

The next few days went by pretty quickly.

You had been going over to Jungkook's for the whole week and you two only had to get through the weekend to have the first week over and done with.

You were stood outside of school waiting for Jungkook to finish at basketball practice but because you were stupid, you had forgotten to bring a jacket with you so you were freezing.

The hour and a half of practice was soon to be over and you just couldn't wait to get into Jungkook's car and be warm with the heated seat on.

Over the past five days, you and Jungkook had grown slightly closer.

He hadn't been so mean to you in class or whenever he saw you in school.

He hadn't sent you as many dirty looks as he usually does.

He had let you into his house yesterday because he said it would let him focus better even though he had been perfectly fine the previous times.

Nevertheless, you still weren't allowed in his room and he still didn't want you or your "dirty self" in his room.

The bell rang, which meant that all additional student time was over and they needed to leave the building.

After a couple more minutes, you heard loud laughter coming from three boys walking out of the doors.

"Bye guys," Jungkook smiled at his friends, sending them a small wave before turning to walk towards you.

"Hey," he says, walking next to you.

You mumble a 'hey' back but because you were so cold, your teeth couldn't help but chatter.

"Y/N, you're freezing," Jungkook points out, a small hint of worry in his tone.

Next, he does something unexpected.

He removes his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, making sure it doesn't fall off.

"My car wouldn't start this morning so we have to walk," he says, turning the corner to begin the walk to his place.

"But Jungkook, you're gonna be cold," you say, removing the jacket from around you.

"If you don't put that jacket back on, I will leave you here all night."

You then stop talking and put the jacket back on, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the ends over your hands.

You had to admit that the jacket was comfy and it smelled amazing.

Walking with Jungkook felt quite relaxing, especially since you weren't going at each other's throats.

While it's quiet, you think back to how you had come to like Jungkook.

You always knew you didn't completely hate him but now he was being a little nicer, you recognised that he was a pretty nice guy.

"Are you warm now?" Jungkook asks, interrupting your train of thought.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, a small smile on your face as you look up at him to reply.

"Look," Jungkook says, stopping in the middle of the path. "I'm sorry I've been such an asshole to you this past year. I know we've both hated each other for a while but ever since I started really getting to know you during this project and what things you like and who you look up to, I've come to realise you're one of the best people I know. I just wanted to apologise for the way I've been treating you lately and I hope this next week can be us really trying to put all conflict behind us."

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say that."

He simply chuckles and looks down, kicking small stones with his feet as he walks ahead.

You stay behind for a moment, thinking about how you and him had completely changed your opinions of each other.

Breaking away from your thoughts, you realise how far Jungkook had walked so you run up to him and latching your hand onto his arm.

He looks down at you, shocked.

You realised you had just practically linked arms with him and quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," you say, rushingly.

He send you a small smile. "It's okay."

You look away from him, embarrassed at your actions.

"It's okay, Y/N, I liked it," he smirks.

A warm blush creeps up onto your face and you're glad it's dark because you couldn't have him seeing how flustered he makes you.

---

When you get to his place, he opens the door for you and lets you take off your shoes before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the stairs.

It's only when he stops you and apologises if it's a little messy that you realise he's taking you up to his room.

"Jungkook, I thought you didn't want me up in your bedroom?"

"Well, now I do."

Okay then.

You and him spent some time sat on his bed watching the new top gun movie.

You managed to snap a few photos of him laying down in the dark and him the same with you.

You took a photo of the two of you making popcorn and laughing while throwing it at each other.

"Jungkook, get off!" You laughed as he continued to try and tickle you.

"Never!"

"Jungkook, you're suffocating me," you giggle, trying to lightly punch him in the stomach.

It's only when he pauses for a moment when you realise how close to each other you both are.

Jungkook spends a moment just looking at you, his gaze drifting from your eyes, to your lips, and then back up again.

"Jungkook-"

"Shh."

Your breathing becomes heavier and your heart pounds in your chest.

Jungkook slowly leans in towards you, his nose grazing yours as you close your eyes and place your hands on the sides of his face.

Your lips join with his in a gentle kiss.

His hands move down to your waist so he can pull you up from underneath him and place you in an upright position.

His tongue slides along your bottom lip as you grant entrance.

The kiss begins to develop into something more desperate, your fingers intertwining into his hair and softly pulling at the roots, earning a small moan from him.

Hearing this, you pull away.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks in a panic. "Do you want to stop?"

"Jungkook... should we be doing this?"

"Well, it's not wrong for us to," he responds.

"I know, but it feels different with you," you say.

"If you start to feel uncomfortable, just stop me, okay?"

You nod as he attaches his lips back on yours for a peck before moving down to your jaw and neck.

You whisper out a moan at the feeling of Jungkook's soft sucking on your neck, his lips marking the skin.

You feel his hand slide down your front and slip under your skirt.

His cold hand on your inner thigh makes you feel a want and need towards him, your core soaked and ready for him.

"Is this okay?" He asks, his slender fingers reaching for the hem of your skirt and panties, ready to rip them both off your body.

You nod your head before he yanks them off you and teases your folds with his middle finger.

A moan escapes your lips as Jungkook slides a finger into your pussy, your juices coating him.

"J-Jungkook," you whimper, his fingers speeding up inside of you, the tips just grazing your spot.

You feel the knot in your stomach become tighter with every little movement Jungkook makes and it's driving you crazy.

"Jungkook, please, I'm gonna cum," you moan, pulling at his hair.

"Just hold on for me, baby, you're doing so good for me," he says, his voice soothing you with how smooth it sounds.

"You're being such a good girl for me, just hold on a little longer."

You let out a cry of pleasure as Jungkook adds a third finger into you, stretching your hole out even more.

"I can't take it, Kook, I need to cum," you gasp.

With a small 'okay' from him, you become undone under his gaze.

You let out a loud moan as you release all over his fingers, your white liquid coating his hand and dripping down your thighs as he pulls his hand out of you.

---

"Such a good girl," Jungkook says, stroking your hair with his now cleaned hand.

"It's a shame we didn't get a polaroid of it," you joke.

"Next time," he smirks.

"Next time?" You question.

Jungkook simply nods before pulling you into his chest and dozes off with you, your body wrapped around his.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk #jjk smut #bts #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: Expensive

*not my gif*

A/N: I have said many times before that I write what I am currently struggling with. Hence this fic. Please do not judge or leave hateful comments. Enjoy!

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“Oh, I got an email,” I say as I pull my phone out when we sit down in the hotel room. “From who?” Harry asks as he sits down on the bed next to me. “School. My cost estimation papers. So I can figure out exactly how much money I will owe them when I go back. In case you didn’t know, college is expensive.” “That sounds… fun?” he says in response. “Eh. not really. But it is usually quick. However, I want to shower and go to bed. It’s been a long day,” I say, and then scoot towards the edge of the bed to stand up. “You’re telling me,” he says with a laugh, and stands up with me. “Care if I join you in the shower?” he asks, pulling me into him. “You know I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say, and then stretch up to kiss him, before smiling and pulling away. “You have to catch me though!” I exclaim, and then sprint away.

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“Did you know that schools change their prices every year? And never in a way that means the price went down,” I ask as Harry sits down next to me. “I did not know that. Are you looking at how much you owe for school this coming year?” he asks, and I just scoff. “Yeah, I am. And it’s stupid. I’m not sure exactly how much the price was raised, but I know it did. And now, what I pull out for my private loan to pay for school is going to be higher than it has been any other year,” I say, and begin to feel my eyes watering, and make a decision that I don’t want to do this right now, not in front of Harry. “No. I’m gonna do this later, not right now. Besides, I’ve got a month and a half before I go back. This can be dealt with after the tour ends, when we’re just chilling at your house. Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready for your concert? And I need to change into my concert outfit.” “I think you look good right now,” Harry says, closing my laptop and setting it off to the side. “Thanks H, but A I’m in biker shorts and your sweatshirt, I’m not wearing that to your show where all your fans dress up and look super cute. And B Lambert told me what your outfit looks like tonight, and I bought a dress and some boots that almost match it.” “Well why didn't you say that to begin with? Go change!” Harry says, and shoves me off the couch. “Geeze,” I say with a laugh, stumbling a bit and then going to stand in between his legs. “You haven't even changed yet. Why should I change first?” “Because if I change first I’ll have to go do the final sound check. But if I’m not ready yet then I can't go yet,” he replies, looking up at me through his eyelashes. “What if,” I start, and then choose to sit down on his lap before finishing. I get really close to him and then whisper in his ear, “we both go to the bathroom and change at the same time?” He laughs and pulls me in for a kiss, before standing up, lifting me up with him, and carrying me bridal style to the bathroom where both of our outfits are, both of us cackling the entire time.

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“Hey,” I hear Harry say from the other room as I stand in the bathroom washing my face. “Hang on, I’m almost done, I’ll be right in,” I say, and quickly rub moisturizer into my skin before flicking off the light and heading into the room part of the hotel room. “What’s up?” “Well I was thinking about how you were filling out your school paperwork earlier, and I had an idea,” he says from where he sits on the bed, his arms behind his head as he watches me walk around the room, gathering my pajamas and the scrunchie I pull my hair back with every night. “Oh yeah?” I respond, stopping at the foot of the bed and starting to change my clothes. “Yes. And it is very simple. I pay whatever you owe for school this next year,” he states, very simply, and I yank my sleep shorts up my legs, settling them on my waist. “No,” I say, walking to the edge of the bed and climbing on before (very un-sexily) crawling towards where Harry is resting, and handing him my scrunchie for him to put my hair up. “No?” he questions as he gathers my hair into a ponytail. “No. If you do that,” I start, and pause to move when I feel him stop messing with my hair, coming to sit next to him on the bed. “If you do that, then all of your fans and everyone in the world will think I am only with you because of your money if it gets leaked that you did that. I don’t want to live with everyone hating me,” I say, and Harry sighs and pulls me into his arms. “Besides, one day when we get married,” I continue, not wanting him to think I’m telling him no forever, “if we get married, my debts will be your debts and we’ll both owe shit tons of money to various places in the United States. And you can help me pay them back.” Harry chuckles and pulls me into him. “Okay. I’ll take that offer. But,” he says, and pulls away so he can look me in the eyes as he says it. “But, I want to do your monthly payments on your private loans. I mean you said that they aren't that much anyway, and this way I am helping you out in some way. I love you, and I hate seeing you so stressed out about money, when I have enough to help you out,” he tells me, and then pulls me in for a kiss. I smile into our kiss and when we pull away I laugh a little. “I love you. Thank you for being willing to do this for me. But maybe we don’t tell many people. Just those who need to know, like Jeff, and your mom and Gem. I’m still worried that your fans, and other people out there, will just think I’m a gold digger if it gets out that you pay for some things for me,” I tell him and he nods his head in agreement. “Need-to-know basis. Got it,” he says, and pulls me in for another kiss. “Babe, I love you,” I say when we pull away. “But I’m also exhausted. Are you ready t o go to bed?” “Yes, of course. Let’s go to sleep,” he says, and then pulls the covers up to where they are covering us, before lying down and pulling me into him.

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“Okay,” I say a few days later, sitting in the dressing room in Warsaw with Harry. “I have officially finished this step of filling out paperwork for school, and finished the first step I can do for filling out a loan request for what is left to be paid for the year.” I close my laptop and stand up, walking over to my bag is and placing my laptop inside. “What happens then?” he asks from the bathroom where he is messing with his hair. “Then, once it is approved, I have to fill out more paperwork for the school to show that I am accepting the award information,” I tell him as I walk toward where he stands in the bathroom, leaning on the doorway and just watching him. “Award?” he asks as he finishes messing with his hair and turns towards me, taking my hand and leading me over to the couch, sitting down and then pulling my legs to rest over his lap. “Award is what they call any amount of money I’m “given” so to say. So when it goes through the school and they say “yeah she needs this money”, then I’ll get an email where I have to accept the money, and then I’ll be done for the summer. When school starts the loan company will disperse my loan to the school, and then I start making monthly payments of interest on it.” “I, start making monthly payments on it,” Harry says, exaggerating the I. “Righ, you start making monthly payments. Right now my other three are only about $70 a month, but with the addition of this one it will be around $95-100. Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask him, reaching my hands out to take his in mine from where they had been rubbing at my calves. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to help you. Besides, $100 is chump change to me honey,” he replies, and then pulls me into a kiss. When we pull away, we just rest our foreheads together and enjoy the other’s presence.  After a few minutes there’s a knock at the door, and Jeff peeks his head in. “Hey guys,” he says as I lean back to the other end of the couch. “H, you have ten minutes to places. Y/N, we should probably head out to the seating area.” “Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” I tell him, and Harry nods his head, a signal that everyone has come to know as “you got it”, so Jeff ducks back out of the room. “You’re gonna do great tonight bubs,” I say to Harry as I scoot closer to him, and then climb onto his lap. “Just like you do every night.” I lean forward and kiss him, and he grabs onto my hips, keeping me from pulling away. “H,” I whisper, slightly out of breath from the kiss, as he starts to kiss down my neck. “H, I have to go out to my seat.” He sighs and kisses me on the lips one more time, before letting go of my hips. “Go, before I cancel the show and just take you back to the hotel room,” he says, playfully shoving me off of him. I stand and grab my phone from the coffee table, and my VIP lanyard off the vanity, before heading for the door. “I love you. And I’m thankful for you. Break legs tonight baby,” I say, and blow him a kiss before heading out the door. As I close the door behind me I see Jeff standing there shaking his head. “I thought I was going to have to come pull you out of there,” he says as I walk up next to him. “Oh shut up, dad,” I say, voice completely laced with sarcasm. “Let’s go watch this concert.” He laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk out into the crowd.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[https-furina]

i saw something about the lack of xiao requests so:

11. with xiao maybe?

whoever aly is needs to suffer more /j

✎ a yaksha’s comfort.

ft. xiao x gn!reader

prompt: “you mean more than anything.”

w.c. 699 words

content: fluff, established relationship, sleep cuddly fluff !! xiao is a tad clingy but it’s soft

notes: anon i love you so much /p i’ve been cackling this whole time while i write it (i’m not very confident with xiao but hopefully i’ll get better because i think i have with albedo??)

it would be blatant ignorance if you dared utter that the fall of the night was not your favourite time of the day. coincidentally, this also applies to your boyfriend - general alatus. he much preferred you just call him xiao, however and he'd stated this the moment he entrusted you enough to admit his feelings (in a very vulnerable conversation) and started dating you. as much as it pained him sometimes, xiao did not regret his decisions to drop his guard for you.

that much shows when he's curled up, chest pressed against your back and his arm draped over your midriff. his forehead is pressed to the bare skin of your lower neck and the tips of your fingers are lazily drawing patterns on his arm - albeit barely touching his skin at all, he can barely feel your feathery touch. it's only when one of your nails particularly drags down to his wrist that his eyes open, aware that you're touching him. your other hand is holding open a book you'd recently been recommended by xingqiu, eyes scanning the pages but you're distant, in your own world. xiao takes your silence as positive, regarding that you are enjoying the aforementioned book.

there's an echo ringing in xiao's ears suddenly, harsh and sharp as it makes his ears burn and creates a thundering effect against his skull. a groan escapes his lips, rolling to lay on his back and only then do you draw your gaze away from your land of make-believe, turning to check on your boyfriend's sudden movements.

"xiao, love?" you mumble, momentarily dazed as one of xiao's hands raise to cover his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the light of the burning flame on your bedside cabinet. you frown, concerned as you lower the book and sit up. xiao waves you off with his spare hand, listening to the rustle of the bedsheets when you move.

"it's fine," he grumbles, albeit his voice cracks a little when the echo of his name gets louder - he's thankful you're not subjected to hearing it too, "the traveler - they're calling for me."

"then you should go, no?" your brows knit together in confusion, watching the way xiao clenches and unclenches the hand covering his eyes in hopes it'll distract him from the thumping in his head, "xiao, you said you'd respond if they called."

xiao doesn't respond, the flesh of his lower lip caught between his teeth as the searing feeling fades - they've stopped. the voices stop echoing, the headache beginning to lighten as xiao breathes out in relief, lowering his hand. golden eyes meet your concerned ones, which soften at your boyfriend's sudden comfort. a sigh leaves your lips, unsure as to why xiao didn't disappear to help the traveler like he promised.

the yaksha shuffles his body, laying his head on your lap with no qualms. the muscles of your thighs tense under him but you're quick to relax, drawing a smile onto your face as he closes his eyes. you take that he has nothing further to say about the situation, raising your book once more now that things have returned to normality; yet this time your spare hand finds its way into xiao's dark locks, running through them as his chest rises and falls slowly.

for a moment you think the adeptus has fallen asleep following the pain he just succumbed to but suddenly a hand grabs at your wrist, removing your hand from his hair as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. his eyes are back on you, watching every miniscule move you make, "you mean more than anything."

heat burns up your neck, rising to your cheeks and forcing you to break eye contact with him. it is only then that you realise that xiao values these nights in your company more than anything. there's solace in being with you, a breath of air that isn't suffocating to him when you're near him. that is worth more than being a hero in someone's story - even more so the concept of rushing into danger when he could stay here, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing at his side.

© https-heizou 2023.

#— 🧁 sugar ‘n’ spice #https-heizou #genshin x you #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao #genshin fluff #genshin x reader

[rshmra]

PRETTY BOY!

plot: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

<- prev. masterlist. next. ->

(written: 2.5k words)

chapter eight: the big meat

"remind me why i agreed to this, again."

jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sigh of exhaustion as the other members pile into the elevator. the space is cramped, but the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement, the boys all hyped to meet the newer group after a spontaneous decision (unanimously agreed upon, albeit with some hesitance from jungwon due to actually having a sense of responsibility).

"'cus they're fun, you'll love them, don't wor- jake stop FUCKING jumping." sunoo cuts the australian a glare, who scratches his head "innocently" and glances at the ceiling.

"that was heeseung."

"excuse me?" the two start to bicker, and jay looks utterly annoyed to be right next to both. normally, riki would be further instigating the tiff, but he's too busy typing away at his phone with a stifled smile.

sunghoon is quick to notice the odd behavior, and nudges the younger with a smirk. "can't even stay away for 5 minutes, huh?" the ramyeonz immediately stop quarreling at this, sharing shit-eating grins as jake falls into heeseung's arms.

"how i love you so, oh yn..." jake throws a hand over his forehead, summoning every last bit of melodrama he can possibly muster. "i'll always be your loverboy, i can't imagine what life would be like without you-"

"ha ha hee hee ha ha." riki mocks him with a scowl, but the damage is already done- the scene they've caused is enough to send the rest into a fit of giggles. "you think you're so fucking funny-"

"woah woah!" now heeseung has the audacity to act like he's done nothing wrong, much to riki's irritation. "no need to get aggressive!"

sunoo rolls his eyes lightly, slightly squished in the corner of the elevator. "pipe down loverboy." this sets jay off into a series of choked guffaws, which causes a chain reaction resulting in everyone else on the ground in hysterics. an embarrassed ni-ki is grateful when the doors finally open to let him out, only for him to realize that-

"dumbasses! we're on the wrong floor!"

"yeah cause i punched a random number in." sunghoon chokes out after somewhat regaining his composure. "how was i supposed to know what floor they're on?"

"oh i don't know, maybe ask?"

"then lead the way, loverboy."

"stop CALLING me that-"

"it's been 10 minutes."

"well what did you expect? that's seven boys who can't even agree on what time it is, did you think they'd actually make it in four minutes?" yn snorts incredulously at chaeri's pouting.

"yeah, but sunghoon still said so!"

"oh jeez," ivory laughs. "you'll really believe anything, huh? how long did you think santa claus was real for?"

silence.

"santa... isn't real?" the maknae's tone is hesitant and hushed, disbelief seeping in.

"ivy, what did you do." kuli mutters to their now-panicking leader, not knowing how to help a tearing chae.

"i didn't- i didn't knOW!-"

"WE'RE HERE!"

it all happens at once. ivory's voice cracks eight octaves higher than normal, yn unleashes a mad cackle, and the doors burst open a little too fast, and the members of enhypen topple like dominos onto the floorboards. for a moment, all is quiet.

"SANTA ISN'T REAL!" then chae damn near sobs, and yn loses his shit.

jungwon blinks, torn between either collapsing into peals of hyena laughter or feeling bad for the inconsolable viper. "...based solely on this series of events i'm gonna assume that's chaeri-" -he points to the crumpled 5'10 form wallowing in his own tears- "-he's ivory-" -indicating the giant tomato with a mop of white blonde hair hiding in the corner- "-you're kuli-" -the short rapper waves, apparently the only one composed enough to greet the group properly. "-and..."

yn clambers to his feet feebly, panting from the effort after cackling so hard. hunched and clutching tight to his ribs, he gives them a weak smile. "i'm yn."

and suddenly they understand riki's complete and utter infatuation (that he frequently denies) with this boy.

his face just has that effect to it, so effortlessly easy on the eyes. almost too pleasing to stare at, which is exactly what they're doing. from his perfectly-styled hair all the way to his air max shoes, there's no doubt about it; he's beautiful. the way sunoo had described him made the others think he was exaggerating, but now he's got a hand over his mouth and snickering to himself at the sheer amount of jaws dropled from shock.

proven right once again.

jake is the first to shake from his awe-induced stupor, managing to raise a shaky hand. "we're enhypen."

"acthually, we're tomorrow eckth together- no shit we're enhypen!" riki sneers.

"jungwon, jay, sunoo, sunghoon, riki, jake, heeseung." kuli names off each member correctly, pointing to which is which once they're all upright. when they turn to him in surprise, he shrugs. "it wasn't a guess, i made sure to google it beforehand."

"riki!" X_CAPE's vocalist straightens haphazardly, lighting up into a beam. he makes a beeline for the dancer, who thinks he might be going in for a hug before he gets sucker-punched in the stomach (not too roughly though).

"OW?" he nearly folds in half, holding his gut with a wheeze. "what the hell was that for?!"

"for when you took 12 hours to respond after saying you'd be 5 seconds. sorry!" he doesn't feel sorry, but nevertheless wraps his friend in a playful side-embrace. "plus, that's the only way i can see you at eye-level."

"or i could bend down to your height?"

"are you insinuating that i'm short?"

"yes."

"fuck off, i'm five foot eight."

the others are watching this procession as if it's a tennis match, a mingling mix of amusement, bewilderment, curiosity and disgust present in their expressions. "get a room," chae sniffles at last, still lying facedown. all it takes is a simple mutter of "santa" from cyren and the waterworks have returned.

"now why would you say that."

"hey, he had it coming."

fast-forward ten minutes and there are currently three conversations being had. jungwon, jay, ivory and kuli are engaged in rivited discussion by the mirror while yn, sunghoon, sunoo, heeseung and jake are in their own little world, talking about whatever comes to mind. riki was initially part of this, but was unexpectedly tugged away by viper with the excuse of "let's talk dance!"

"feeling any better?" ni-ki deadpans, recalling the little claus incident just a short while back.

chae's nearly ever-present grin doesn't falter. "i try not to think about it. don't remind me."

"we're not really gonna talk dancing, are we?"

"you're a clever one! yeah, that was the best thing i could think of. to get you alone so i could, like, ask you some questions." said grin seems to morph into something a bit more menacing before disappearing altogether. "sunoo tells me you're a good guy."

"oh." riki isn't quite sure how to respond to this. feeling a little off-put, he shoves his hands into his pockets. "thanks?"

"so i'm chill with that. i'm cool with you, too, and whatever's going on with yn, but i wanna feel like i can trust you first." he heaves a sigh, grimacing. "i don't want anything to happen to him again, y'know?"

riki frowns. "what's that supposed to mean?"

viper's eyebrows furrow, before shooting upwards at rapid speeds. "oh shit." it hadn't occurred to him, but he's regretting saying anything because riki didn't fucking know yet. but he's curious now, and maybe a little worried.

"chaeri-"

"whatcha talkin' about?" he's hyperaware of heeseung and jake sidling up to him, being the nosy twats they are. the outburst catches the attention of the others, who quickly move to gather around and in no time have formed a large circle.

"oh, i was begging for details from him! since yn barely told us anything i wanted the whole story, starting from the beginning." chaeri puts on a pretty convincing act, but it's unclear whether yn buys it or not. his eyes narrow, and he gives ni-ki a probing once-over and glimpses suspiciously at chae.

"i did tell you everything though?"

"but i wanna hear both sides!" yn purses his lips, ultimately deciding to drop the subject, nonetheless brightening after remembering the ordeal.

"it's not this huge thing, honestly. we just ran into each other at the CU like, what... a month ago or something like that?"

"yeah." it's not a revolutionary occurrence for riki to zone out and get transfixed while staring at yn, but it's different this time. he seems concerned, jaw tense and fingers drumming against his knee. what chaeri said earlier has him on edge, but he doesn't want to pry so not to be disrespectful. if yn didn't tell him, it probably isn't his business.

cyren notices this and wiggles his fingers at him, but it gains no reaction. he claps, still to no avail. "this happens a lot, watch this." he reassures everyone, and with a sing-song voice and mischeivous grin he resorts to calling, "oh kiki!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

immediately they're all in stitches, save for riki again, who simply flips him off with both hands. the room echos with croons of "kiki!" "kiki!" and the boy can't help but crack a smile. the worry becomes an afterthought, there to stay at the back of his mind. for now, he'll remain in the moment, where he's happy. yn's happy. everyone's happy, and everything's fine.

the two groups trade stories for a while longer, poking fun and goofing off. when it comes time for the seven to leave, it's important that they all take several pictures together, a memory of their first big meet.

notes: did you catch the sturniolo ref 🙈 sunoo is nick coded you literally cant tell me otherwise. im officially out of school so hopefully updates will pick up, but i had to rewrite this all from scratch today 💀 compared to what i usually write, this is a MONSTER chapter. also drama perhaps ??

@silkentides @nikikids @totoroblop @winter-world @phantom-butterfly @simsoobean @byu @noredplz @sh0uj0-r3i @onementally-unstabel-kid @thepeachyhub @enhypen-reblog @ao5riki @bearseulgs @le0-0nidas @gothhyucks

bold can't be tagged!

#x reader #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha x male reader #enha x reader #male reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enha niki #niki x male reader #ni ki enhypen #enha riki #enhypen riki #enha #enha smau #enhypen social media au

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 8

Well this was a whole-ass SITUATION. I'm still processing, but another outstanding ep. The twin scents of audacity and desperation hung over this episode. Sand tries and fails to have any kind of backbone with Ray. Boston sits in purgatory and decides nope, hell it is. Cheum learns more valuable lessons about perhaps minding her own business. Nick might be moving on to Zaddy!Papang. Mew spirals. Yo and Plug break up. And Top...maybe set Ray up to get arrested so he could look like a hero? Everybody had the goddamn audacity this episode. Y'all went up for Mew's crazy eyes last week, let's see where the gworls are landing for me this week.

⭐1. Atom

People with self-confidence like you are very charming to me.

OH SIR! Talk about coming in hot! Atom's in an experimental mood and looking for somebody to blow his back out, so of course he thinks of Boston, and he's putting out whatever sauce he can muster to entice him. I gotta say, this is a wrinkle I ABSOLUTELY did not see coming but the mess is MESSING and I'm fully on board. Cheum is gonna LOSE IT.

🔺2. Boston (3)

Alright. I’m a social leper.

Well he didn't do a lot this week but boy did he make it count: his bitchface at Nick, who it seems he might have really started to care about; poking at Top's soft spots; telling Cheum maybe she should mind her own business; and just talkin' gay shit with Atom who is VERY into gay shit right now it would seem...every second Boston was onscreen was a second of perfection. ESPECIALLY the second when he decides to make yet another terrible decision and take Atom home and maybe give him what he's been sniffing around asking for. I mean, has learned not ONE goddamn thing and I LOVE that about him.

🔻3. Mew (2)

You take no space in my mind at all.

I haven't seen a classic post-breakup slut spiral this well executed in FOREVER. When Mew did the line of coke I gasped, and when he shoved his tongue down Ray's throat right in Top's face I SCREAMED. Oh honey, you're SUCH a cliché and I love you for it. Mew does not feel an ounce of anything resembling love or attraction for Ray, and he knows it, and he also knows the thought of him and Ray will keep Top up at night, so cigs, booze, yeyo and tonsil hockey it is.

⭐4. Daddy Dan

If you have a friend who likes old people, introduce us.

Papang has arrived, and he's playing the kind of guy who asks college students he's hiring to hook him up with their friends so...that's all present and correct. They love to cast Papang as charming but also slightly seedy and creepy and I'm very into it. Also, in my country there is a strip club/brothel called Dad's Dan so I cackled for a solid 5 minutes at the previews.

⭐5. Freddie Mercury The Second

I want no business with someone else’s boyfriend.

The only person this episode to exhibit even an ounce of self-respect. I salute you sir.

🔻6. Nick (4)

What should I do to earn your forgiveness?

Nick's licking his wounds and trying to get back in the game with Boston, but Nick having never met a boundary he couldn't trample has pretty much sealed that deal for now. As Sand pointed out to him: what was he even doing at that party, other than making a fool of himself?

🔻7. Top (6)

Are you really picking Ray?

Ok so Top's the one who called the cops right? Because they knew exactly who and what they were looking for, and his #1 priority was getting Mew out of Ray's orbit and back into his. Top's beggin' tour wasn't working on anybody except Cheum (who...girl. GIRL!), but he still managed to end the night in bed with Mew, so I guess he'll count that as a win?

🔹8. Cheum (8)

They're all selfish. They don't care about me.

GIRL. Your girlfriend keeps telling you to LEAVE THESE BOYS ALONE AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. Now you crying on the couch and don't nobody care except your girlfriend, WHO TOLD YOU. All them boys one by one just telling her to get out of their faces...GIRL YOU ARE A LESBIAN YOU ARE ABOVE BOYS MAKING YOU CRY.

🔻9. April (7)

I know you’re worried about Mew. But he’s a grown man. He can take care of his life.

Girl aren't you tired? That woman don't never listen to you and now instead of having a good time you're feeling her snot seep into your chest through your (slay) outfit and thinking about how you're not getting any sex tonight either. SHE DOESN'T EVEN APPRECIATE YOUR ART.

🔻10. Plug/Yo (5)

There were many people I gave all my heart to. I gave them everything I got. There were many people I gave my room key to. They all returned it to me in the end. I don't want you to raise my expectations. And then you leave me too.

Oof, poor baby Plug. He just wants to live that househusband life but Yo been THRU it and ain't interested in going thru it again. I was surprisingly affected by Mom breaking up with Cool Stepdad, given how little screentime they've had, but Jennie's just that good.

🔻11. Sand (5)

Friends? You and I have never been friends from the get-go.

What more can I say about this loser? He's so embarrassing I can hardly look at him. Ray does not give a good goddamn about him, he uses him as a plaything, a servant or a punching bag as it suits him, and instead of throwing rocks at his ass and telling him to GTFO, he FIGHTS THE DAMN COPS who are trying to take him away. It's almost fascinating, watching this bullshit: every time I think this is surely Sand's rock bottom, he goes lower. We've got 4 episodes left but I'm calling it now: Sand is the most pathetic character on this show.

🔻12. Ray (1)

Let's hire a DJ instead this time. I don't want a band anymore.

OH MY GOD FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE. Does Thailand do 5150s? Because Ray needs to be committed as a danger to himself and others. He got everything he wanted and IT'S NOT ENOUGH, just as we all (I hope) knew it wouldn't be. And then on top of that Mew refuses his kiss in private but lays one on him in Top's face and it's like he just lost it. That ugly scene, breaking up Sand's encounter with Freddie II (shades of him doing the same with Sand's date earlier in the season), claiming ownership of him (told y'all) forcing a kiss on him because Sand's his property right? Ray was downright nasty this week, and not in an enjoyable way.

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends #only friends series #bl meta series

[magecrafts]

KATE BISHOP headcanons.

RATED E FOR EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT — 18+ — MINORS DNI.

a/n: the first of a few things i wrote in rehab. lil fluff, lil smut (but mostly smut). forgive me if it reads a bit messy, i'm a little out of practice. enjoy!

kate bishop x reader ; congrats! you're dating a sort-of avenger!

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, daddy kink, humiliation, big big straps, light anal play, cnc, no aftercare ; reader is biologically female but no pronouns are used so could be read as ftm, nb, cis, or whatever tf else you want.

i am not currently fulfilling requests, but any made will be consdiered for future writing things...?

For your first date she takes you to an archery range. Mostly to show off but also to put a bow in your hands and touch you a little bit while she shows you how to draw properly.

The second is a Central Park picnic with pizza and champagne. “Say what you will about my mother,” Kate says as she frees a slice for the golden retriever at her side, “but her wine cellar slaps.” After a look at the label and quick web search: “Kate,” you tell her, “this is a forty-five-hundred dollar bottle of champagne from nineteen-eighty-one, and—“ “And we’re eating it with fifteen dollar pizza from nineteen minutes ago,” she says. “But. To be fair, that’s basically what she makes in an hour.” A beat. “She’s gonna cut me off again.”

You start sleeping with Kate on date six. She has tickets to an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History but she turns up in a gray plaid pantsuit and Docs and the two of you don’t even make it out the door (so, yeah, okay, you sleeping with Kate is date six). 

Kate has trouble focusing when there’s no underlying adventure, no chaos, no bad guys chasing her down the street in vans and tracksuits. She’s gotten used to the hero's life, the kind of life where danger lurks around every corner and life or death decisions are plentiful. Kate thrives on the mayhem and gets lost in the mundanity. Clint calls it adrenaline addiction. Yelena says Kate’s got Avenger blood (“She’s not an Avenger,” Clint says. “Too dangerous.”). Sometimes, even when she’s happy, even when she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, it still happens. Her eyes will gloss over and she’ll retreat into herself and, “Where’d you go?” and “Earth to Kate,” are two things you catch yourself saying a lot during downtime.

“Kate.” “…Yes?” “Why is your bag moving?” The bag barks. “No reason,” Kate says, stepping in front of the wriggling duffel bag as a little black nose pushes through the open zipper, followed by a furry golden head. “Hear me out,” she says, crouching down to pull the wiggling golden retriever into her arms. “His name is Pepperoni.” The other dog, the big dog—Pizza Dog—bounds into the room and sniffs at the puppy in Kate’s arms. He yips once and sits on his haunches and the moment Kate puts the little dog down in front of him you know there’s not a chance in hell she’s letting that puppy go.

Kate thinks she’s the best thing since sliced bread. And in bed? Yeah, she probably is. She’s eager, adaptive, and curious no matter how many times she’s explored every last inch of your body. She spends a lot of time on your tits—squeezing and biting and licking and sucking—and when she isn’t too distracted, when she remembers that she has hands and can use them for something other than digging her dull nails into your skin, she’ll reach up and push her fingers past your lips while she closes her mouth over your skin and sucks until you choke on her fingers and push her head away and beg for a moment to catch your breath.

It took a month to get her anywhere near macaroni and cheese after Yelena rolled into town. That they’re constantly attached at the hip nowadays still blows your mind, but you can’t deny that something magical happens when they’re in the same room. It’s a lot like the little girls in the schoolyard at recess who mix potions in puddles with twigs and run cackling away when anyone asks what they’re doing.

She doesn’t like when you’re quiet. She’ll get vocal enough for the both of you if you’re really not up for it (or if you can’t, which has been happening a lot since she saw that one clip of a girl getting panty-gagged), but she doesn’t like to do anything in silence. It’s not tinnitus, and she's not going the way of Barton, you know, because you’ve asked, and she says she can exist in silence, says the quiet isn’t debilitating or anything, it’s just that she doesn’t like it. She blames it on the city, says no one in Manhattan knows how to operate without twenty-four-hour background noise, which is probably true, but you think she might just like the sound of her own voice. Yours will do when she can’t listen to herself, sure, but sometimes you like to keep quiet just so she’ll push you further and fuck you harder and tell you she needs to hear you. The one time you called it begging she got all huffy and red in the face and insisted that she’s never once begged in her entire life.

Kate likes you on your belly. She likes watching your thighs shake, likes watching the muscles in your back tense and relax as you prop your hips up and offer yourself to her. She likes palming your ass and pulling your cheeks apart and the little sighs of anticipation and excitement you make when she spreads you wide and holds you open just to look, just to keep you on edge. “Are you nervous?” she’ll ask, and you can always hear the cocky grin in her voice, because she knows you are and knows it makes you bubble up with shame when she points it out. “Don’t be nervous,” she’ll say, “we’ve done this before,” which doesn’t help, and she’ll rub her thumb over the pucker of your asshole until you shudder and your hips cant forward. Then she’ll sigh and yank you back by your thighs until your muscles are pulled taut and your cunt practically spreads open on its own. “Move and I’ll shoot,” she likes to say, and she won’t, not really, because she’d step in front of a subway train before she actually hurt you, but she likes to throw that threat around when she hasn’t had a good fight in a while.

“It’s new,” she says when you come home and find her strapped up and looking at herself in the mirror. When your eyes go wide and you swallow hard and tell her, “That’s…big,” she just grins and turns her focus back to the mirror. “I know, right?” she says, considering for a moment before she drops her hand and fists the silicone cock. She can’t even wrap her hand all the way around it. “And purple,” you say, dumbly, because you aren’t sure what else you’re supposed to do or say. “Impressive observations,” Kate says, catching your eye in the mirror and tossing you a smirk. “Think you can take it?” You honestly have no idea.

Once she gets that first strap she just—will not stop. Cannot be stopped. She’ll wake you up in the morning with her mouth on your chest and her hand sneaking down the front of your panties. She’ll tell you to hush and claim your mouth with her own while she nudges your legs open and drags the tip of her big purple cock between the slick lips of your cunt, mumbling, “Just relax, baby, I know you can take it,” even though you just woke up and you’re barely coherent and she hasn’t fucked you in days int he name of building blissful anticipation and wanting it to feel new again. You’re not sure that logic tracks but you’re absolutely certain you don’t ever want anyone else to touch you like this and when she pushes into you—fucks into you—you forget the sweet embrace of sleep and slip into the role she wants you to play.

Kate likes to walk around the apartment in boxers and a sports bra. More comfy that way, she says, even though you have a hard time keeping it together when she does. It’s worse when she abandons the bra altogether. She says it’s freeing. You think it’s maddening. Like when she parks herself on the couch all laid back with her legs propped open and an arm over the back of the couch. She’ll tilt her head and ask you why you’ve gone all red while you just look at her and do your best not to drool. It’s just, shit, that her tits are perfect—even handfuls, pert, rosy nipples, and soft all over—and you swear you could lose yourself in them for days. “Problem?” she’ll ask when you get all tripped up on your words, blushing so hard it creeps down your neck. Then she’ll just grin.

The worst of it is when she starts calling herself daddy. At first you think it’s stupid, self-indulgent, like she’s pandering to herself, but it gets intense. Fast. Like when she cozies up behind you while you’re cooking dinner, slipping her arms around your middle and sneaking her hands beneath your shirt, saying, “You take care of me so well,” and, “daddy’s gonna repay the favor,” and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say to that but you can feel her pressing up against your ass and her hands are creeping closer and closer to your chest and you know good and well that the moment she palms your tits and ruts against you that it’s all over. Dinner burns on the stove while she strips your bottoms off and lays you out on the kitchen table and pushes your legs open and slaps your cunt just to remind you that she’s needy and she needs you to indulge her every whim because sometimes she doesn’t know what to do when you aren’t actively falling to pieces beneath her. You don’t know when you stopped finding it stupid, self-indulgent, like she needs another reason to think she’s hot shit, but it happened. And you’ve changed your mind: the worst of it is when she realized how much you drip with want when she calls herself daddy.

Nope, that's a lie, the worst of it is the moment she figures out you like it a lot more when she isn’t so nice

Kate strokes the length of her thick strap with one hand and drags the other down the length of your spine, curling her fingers to let her nails catch against your sweat-slicked skin. She nudges your legs apart with her knee and drags the tip of her cock through the lips of your cunt and laughs as you start to squirm. She curses under her breath and notches the tip of the massive fucking thing against your needy hole. “Relax, little angel,” she says, words dripping with condescension. “It’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot more if you don’t calm down and let me in, and isn’t that what you want? If it isn’t, you’d better tell me, ’cause I thought you wanted daddy to fuck your stupid little pussy ’til it’s all gaping and sloppy.” That does it. You’re helpless and your moan doesn’t help, and as the noise rips from your throat Kate fucks into your slippery hole in one rough thrust, and, “Oh—my god—shit—Kate, please—it hurts,” you gasp out between breaths. “I don’t care,” she says, tucking an arm around your middle to keep you from wriggling away. “Please.” You clench helplessly around her massive, heavy cock. “What, you don’t like this?” she asks, false hurt lining her voice. She leans in close again, lips parted against your ear as she stills herself inside of you. “You don’t want this? You want me to stop?” she asks, just to tease, and stifles a laugh as you nod. She doesn’t move. It’s big, too big, stretching your cunt as wide as you think it’ll ever be. Fear of her splitting you open keeps you still. And then she draws her hips back, nice and slow, and for a moment you flood with relief. She pulls out of your leaking hole until all that’s left inside is the tip. And then she eases back in, watching as best as she can in the dim light as her purple cock disappears into your needy pussy. “Pathetic,” she mumbles, and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Lie to me all you like, but I know a dumb fucking slut when I see one.” “Kate—” “Unless you’re going to tell me you’ve changed your mind—that you’ve had a change of heart and you want this—don’t open your fucking mouth until I ask for another place to put my cock.”

#kate bishop headcanons #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop imagines #hawkeye imagines #kate headcanons #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #hawkeye headcanons #rated: e #kate #headcanons #hcs

[russellrustles]

fawn on ice - c. leclerc

prompt: 17 - ice skating requested by anon

word count: 0.7k

christmas drabble masterlist

masterlist

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So far, within only fifteen minutes, you have already politely asked, sternly ordered, desperately pleaded and petulantly begged Charles to accompany you to the ice skating rink that had popped up in town a few days ago. Yet, despite your best efforts, he has been skilfully conjuring up every excuse in the book to be able to stay at home snuggled up under a fluffy blanket on the sofa.

“What if I fall and hurt my wrist? My team won’t be happy,” he grumbles, pulling the blanket up to hide his face only for you to yank it back down.

“Charles, it’s the off-season! You have like three months to chill out a little - make the most of it,” you whine, grabbing his hands and attempting to drag him off the sofa as he frantically tries to wriggle free.

He finally relents, unceremoniously sliding down onto the floor in a pile of pillows and blankets. “You’re so stubborn,” he mumbles, getting up and tidying them away, occasionally throwing a glance over in your direction as you oversee his cleaning with crossed arms.

“I’m not stubborn, just very persistent,” you retort once he’s done, rolling your eyes in a jocular manner as he turns to you and delicately kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, whatever you say, love.”

Despite his initial hesitation regarding your plans for today, he’s rather quick to usher you into his car, unsurprisingly insisting on being the one to drive while you give him the directions to your destination. He seems to have perked up a little, leading you to ask him where his sudden change in spirit has come from.

“Maybe a bit of ice skating will be more fun than watching Netflix all day,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh as he usually does whenever he drives, “besides, most of your ideas turn out to be pretty good.”

You giggle a bit, before replying, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Most of the drive there is rather quiet, only really being interrupted by one of you occasionally singing along to a Christmas song on the radio, until another question springs to your mind.

“Have you ever been ice skating before?”

“Maybe a few times when I was younger, but I can’t really remember ever being particularly talented at it,” he tells you, holding back a small laugh. So far, it looks like both of you will be spending most of your time clinging onto the barriers.

Charles Leclerc is undeniably elegant in a suit, managing to hold the attention of everyone in the room by simply flashing a knowing smile and having a confident stride. He’s also a terrifyingly adroit rival on track, an expert at making split-second decisions and weaving through the grid with shocking ease. But Charles Leclerc on ice? What a sight to behold.

Although you know he has a knack for an occasional spell of clumsiness, he looks fully out of his element while on ice. Clinging onto the barrier with one hand, you clutch at your stomach with the other, gasping for breath between bouts of laughter as you watch him struggle to keep his balance.

“Goodness, Cha, you look like a little fawn!” you cackle, pointing at his legs which currently cannot seem to agree as to which direction they should be pointing in, slowly splaying out instead.

You’ve got to give him some credit though - he’s trying his best and laughing along as well, the two of you attracting a slight amount of attention from the people around you as you cackle uncontrollably.

“Come on! You can’t laugh at me if you’re not even trying - get away from those barriers!” he demands, holding his hand out towards you in an attempt to persuade you to leave your little safe area.

You’re hesitant at first, slightly unwilling to risk exposing your own klutzy side. However, it’s only fair that you give it a shot seeing as Charles has done so already, so, on shaky legs, you push yourself away from the barrier.

The semi-graceful slide lasts only a few seconds before you tumble backwards, landing on the ice with a thud that’s drowned out by Charles' raucous guffaw. Half-stepping, half-skating towards you, he offers you some help with standing back up, brushing some little specks of ice off you. It’s a little humbling, really, but at the same time you can’t deny the irony of the situation.

With a smug grin he meets your gaze, “What was it that you said earlier about a fawn on ice?”

——————————

TAGLIST: (read this post for more info about my taglists)

@emmnf1 @idkiwantchocolatee @ohthemisssery @dumb-fawkin-bitch @revengze

#christmas drabbles 2022 #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader

[courtney-deserved-better]

🤡 and ✅

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

courtney and alejandro's friendship!! it was never meant to happen in slippery slopes initially but in the australia challenge when alejandro was supposed to be manipulating courtney he said "no actually i will begin to form a deep bond due to our mutual family issues and deep-seated competitive/perfectionist nature that will carry us throughout this entire fic" and i was like "damn okay sure"

and then in some shorter alenoah fics i was like "well obviously courtney is alejandro's best friend so she has to make an appearance" and even in my recent script rewrite for moon madness they have a scene where alejandro is helping courtney talk through her feelings (for manipulative purposes, but still).

and don't even get me started on the courtney time travel au. i don't want to say too much about it and alejandro has a very minor role, but also, he was never supposed to exist in that fic in the first place!! but nope he showed up and was like "courtney's memories of me will be the catalyst for her making a certain decision" and i was like "welp im powerless to stop you at this point" literally in every iteration of them i write they have some kind of connection and honestly ive embraced it at this point, if amicus curiae is any indication lol

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

ooo, i'm actually quite proud of my comedy writing, so there are quite a few! the later chapters of operation nemma have several exchanges that make me laugh, and there are always a few scenes that catch me off guard when i'm rereading slippery slopes and have me cackling.

i put a snippet of one of my favorites from under the cut, i wouldn't say it's the funniest, but i also am proud of the snappy writing. it's from the beginning of chapter 5 if anyone is interested in looking back at the full exchange!

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber?” Duncan says, snapping his fingers. “We’ll just go with the first two, okay? Because someone is too far in denial to be reasonable.”

“It was a joke,” Noah scoffs, “because I don’t flirt with Alejandro.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He flirts with me to annoy me, and it works. That’s it.”

“Hello, denial.”

Owen opens another can of pop. “Isn’t that the first stage of love, or something?”

“It’s the first stage of grief,” Noah says, “which is what you two are currently causing me. "

#ask #anon #ask game #slippery slopes