#To add vibrant color to your garden

[philoldendronindoor]

Caladiums

Caladiums

Caladium plants are excellent indoor plants specially grown for their fancy leaves. Most of these plants originated from the caladium bicolor variety or angel wings.

Caladiums

Caladiums are beautiful indoor ornamental with evergreen character. This plant grows from the tuberous corm which are commonly called bulbs. Larger tuber plants produce bigger leaf foliage & it’s said to be annuals.

Caladium bicolor

This plant tissue culture indoor plant belongs to the family Araceae & scientifically named caladium bicolor. Leaves are arrowhead-shaped in varying patterns such as white, pink, red & others.

Caladium varieties

This plant has more than 1000+ varieties which include plant tissue culture caladium candyman, red emperor, caladium thai hybrid, poison dart frog, stardust, raspberry moon, red flash, miss muffet & others with fancy leaf foliage in a wide range of colors.

Candyman

This candyman has thick white stripes with pink markings all around the leaves. Potentially this fast-growing plant character.

BenefitsMost Shade-loving plants with excellent ornamental values.Caladium indoor plants attract beneficial insects.Low maintenance & easy care indoor plants.All the tissue culture caladiums are peat-disease free most resistant varieties.To add vibrant color to your garden, grow caladiums which are beautiful plants with long-lasting beauty & versatility. Caladium indoor plants make excellent plants for any type of gardening.Be awesome & Save nature!!Caladium tissue culture plantsBlog created by : Santhionlineplants

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

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

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Here goes nothing and everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However. 

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

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

It’s weird to say it. 

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

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

“Oh, god.”

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

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

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

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

Because they are still the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

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

And you’re going to.

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

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

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

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

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

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

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

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

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

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

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

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

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

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

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

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

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

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

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

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

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

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

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

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

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

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

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

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

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

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

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why should I.”

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

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

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

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

“…So it’s like that?”

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

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

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

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

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

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

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

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

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

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

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

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

“Trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You loved me?”

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

“What?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

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

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

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

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

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

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

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

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He said he still loves me.”

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

“Dom…”

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

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

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

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

“I know.”

“Now.”

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

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

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

“What do I have now.”

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

Huh?

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

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

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

“K.”

Wait, what.

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

His name is molasses on your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s true.” 

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

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

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

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

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

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

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

If you didn’t have to wait. 

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

But why does he seem so—

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

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

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

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

Huh.

What does he mean by—

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

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

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

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

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

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

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

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

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

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

“Doll, let me know because—”

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

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

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

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

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

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

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

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

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

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

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

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

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

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

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

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

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

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

A plate. A bowl after that. 

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

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

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

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

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

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

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

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

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

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

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

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

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

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

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

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

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

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

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

Silence. 

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

“I always worry.” 

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

Shit, that was close. 

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

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

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

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

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

An apology.

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

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

This can’t be it. 

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

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

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

“…Oh.”

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

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

What the hell happened after he left your room?

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

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

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

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

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

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

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

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

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

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

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

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

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, really.”

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

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

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

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

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

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

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

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

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

…Is he paying loans? 

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

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

“So were you.”

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

“It’s whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

“I like it here, though.”

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

“Empty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

And regret others. 

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

“All the time.” 

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

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

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

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

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

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

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

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

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

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

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

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

…Calling should be okay, right?

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

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

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

Fuck. 

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

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

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

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

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

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

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

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

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

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

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

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

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

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

Ah. No finish line in sight.

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

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

“When you get it.”

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

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

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

“See? Claiming shit already.”

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

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

“Just work stuff.”

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

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

“What.”

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

“…I see.”

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

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

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

“Not at you, doll.”

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

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

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

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

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

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

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

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

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

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

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

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

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

“Wait—” 

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

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

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

Yoongi: Missed Call

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

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

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

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

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

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

Yoongi: Incoming Call

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

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

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

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

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

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

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

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s Jimin?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

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

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

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

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

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

“That’s good, at least.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

“Mm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. “Me? How?” 

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

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

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

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

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

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

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

“Mmk.” 

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

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

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

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

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

“You can definitely be upset.” 

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

Only warmth. And understanding. 

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

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

Him? Being more upset than you?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

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

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

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

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

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

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

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

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

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“So?”

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

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

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

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

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

“Go get it, doll.”

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

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

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

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

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

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

“K. Have fun!”

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

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

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

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

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

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

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

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

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

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

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

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

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

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

Painful.

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

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

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

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

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

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

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

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

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

You can’t.

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

Your finger moves a bit closer.

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

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

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

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

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

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

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

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

“Hello?”

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

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

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

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

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

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

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

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

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

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

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

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

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

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

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

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

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

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

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

And your chest has never felt lighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hustler.”

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

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

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

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

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the smartass.”

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

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

“I just… You read.” 

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

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

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

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

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

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

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

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

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

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

And you glitch when you realize why.

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

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

Way too familiar.

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

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

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

Almost everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

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

“Stop.” 

You do. 

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

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

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“The fuck.”

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Are you su—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

“So fucking filthy...” 

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

“Don’t do that.” 

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

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

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

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

Perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking perfect.” 

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

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

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

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

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

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

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

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

“Uh uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly.

He stops. 

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

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

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

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

And again.

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

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

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

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

“Then fucking beg.” 

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

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

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

“Need you, too.” 

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

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

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

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

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now swallow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

It’s not. 

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

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

“Feel so good—”

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

What is he— 

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

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

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

“Yoongi—”

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

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

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

“There you go.” 

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

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

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

“Goddamn.” 

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

Oh, fuck!

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

“Come here.” 

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

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“It missed you, too.”

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

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

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

“Again.” 

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

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

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

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, shit!

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

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

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

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

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

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

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

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

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

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

Does he feel at home, too? 

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

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

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

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

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

“How are you gonna get home?”

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

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

“S’ok.” 

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

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

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

“Maybe try that one more time.”

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

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

“I always do, babe.” 

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

“Miss you.”

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

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

“That’s my fault.” 

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

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

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

“You gave me tonight.” 

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

“A little longer is nothing.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

Us.

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

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

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

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

“We have a game next week.” 

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

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

What’s he doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

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

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

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

“Ah, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you start to hum.

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

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

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

“Shit, was I too loud?”

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

“Not at all.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

For him, you can do anything. 

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

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

—

tbc. :) 

—

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 

[novlr]

What are some ways to describe summer ?

Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.

Sights

Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.

Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.

Sunbathers dotting the coastline.

Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.

Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.

Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.

Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.

Fireflies illuminating the night.

Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.

Hikers on forest trails.

Sounds

The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.

Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.

The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.

Children’s laughter as they play outside.

Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.

The distant whirr of lawn mowers.

Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.

Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.

The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.

The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.

Smells

The salty tang of sea air at the beach.

The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.

Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.

The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.

The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.

Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.

The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.

The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.

Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.

Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.

Activities

Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.

Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.

Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.

Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.

Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.

Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.

Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.

Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.

Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.

Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.

Character body language

Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.

Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.

Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.

Applying sunscreen meticulously.

Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.

Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.

Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.

Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.

Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.

Positive descriptions

The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.

The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.

The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.

The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.

The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.

The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.

The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.

The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.

The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.

The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.

Negative descriptions

The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.

The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.

The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.

The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.

The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.

The discomfort of air thick with humidity.

The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.

The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.

The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.

The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.

Helpful Adjectives

Scorching

Balmy

Sultry

Languid

Radiant

Dazzling

Parched

Breezy

Rippling

Sweltering

Sunny

Lush

Blistering

Tropical

Vibrant

Humid

Verdant

Golden

Glowing

Fragrant

Torrid

Tranquil

Crisp

Sizzling

Flaming

Steamy

Refreshing

Shimmering

Lazy

Stifling

Invigorating

Sparkling

Zesty

Fervent

Stuffy

Arid

Saturated

Juicy

Sunbaked

Fetid

[noaasanctuaries]

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home 👠👠

You said ruby brittle star, not ruby slippers? Oops. Well, this ruby brittle star's home is in Flower Garden Banks National Marine Sanctuary.

This unique species adds a splash of vibrant color to the ocean floor with its striking reddish hue. Like all brittle stars, it has a central disk with long, flexible arms. This species of echinoderm, found in the Western Atlantic, can grow to a maximum size of 21 inches in diameter. When threatened, it can shed its arms as a distraction, allowing the brittle star to escape from predators. Remarkably, it can regenerate lost arms, showcasing an impressive ability to adapt and survive in its challenging underwater environment. Regenerative abilities differ greatly among sea star species.

📸: Jennifer Ackerman (2022 Get Into Your Sanctuary Photo Contest)

[biteofcherry]

Bucky and reader plus sex pollen and stuck in a cabin in the woods?

Petals

Bucky Barnes x female reader

warnings: sex pollen; slight dub-con due to sex pollen (but otherwise consented); unprotected sex; fingering; 

~ * ~ 

“There’s not a single pill in this goddamn cabin!” You yell, slamming the cabinet door shut.

The heat unfurling in your belly, spreading its burning tentacles through your whole body, clenching around each limb and squirming in your insides, makes you impatient and angry. 

Fear of what the unknown adds oil to this fire.  

You went through every nook in this house and found nothing useful to help your state. For a place that belonged to a scientist it sure is poorly equipped in medicine.

It was supposed to be so simple. A boring reckon mission. Just to check the cabin and secure any samples of the ongoing experiments the former Hydra doctor ran in this place. They weren’t even that groundbreaking, it seemed at first glance. 

He focused on plants and their genetics. No human experiments so far, no especially suspicious or dangerous ingredients. Just various plants, basic chemical reagents, stacks of Petri dishes. 

As a member of doctor Banner’s scientific unit you were tasked with gathering all the potentially dangerous or simply unusual items. Bucky was your security. A one person army to save your civil ass if you got in trouble. 

You made sure to take the highest precautions. With masks and gloves on, you carefully placed each item in a container which you later locked in special cases. 

You tried not to show any reaction to seeing Bucky in a mask. The blue of eyes striking a more vibrant color in contrast to it. They seemed more piercing, too. 

You saw Winter Soldier only on footage, with his black muzzle covering half of his face. Bucky was always Bucky to you, since the day you were introduced. But you couldn’t help the jolt of adrenaline as his attentive gaze observed your every move. 

Once done with the inside of the cabin, you took the masks and gloves off and checked the garden behind the cabin. It was filled with completely normal herbs and vegetables, nothing out of the ordinary.

You admired the few flowers that grew along the fence, swaying gently on the breeze. 

“I haven’t seen those in a while,” Bucky said then as he stepped right next to you, his eyes focused on the tall stem and deep red flowers cascading from it.

“They’re not very popular,” you nodded. “Some people have them in their rustic gardens, but it’s not a flower shop's desired item. Which is a shame.”

You traced one of the crimson flowers with your fingertip, gasping in surprise when the petals shivered and fell off at the mere touch. 

One petal after the other, like ruby domino pieces that swung on the wind before dropping to the ground. 

A puff of pink pollen gushed from bared stigmas, dispersing in the air. 

It got into your airways quickly, itching the back of your throat then transforming into a very sweet aftertaste that dried out your mouth and made you thirsty. 

Not more than ten minutes later, sweat broke out on your skin. A weird type of itching prickled your skin, making it oh so sensitive that a single brush of Bucky’s shoulder against you, as the two of you barged into the cabin, caused your whole body to tremble. 

When it became clear he was experiencing some effects of the pollen too, you were instantly worried. 

You were just a human, but if a super soldier reacted to a substance it meant serious trouble. Even if he was less affected compared to you.

Bucky stayed composed, only revealed his temperature starts rising and his muscles tensed. 

When you ordered an immediate cleanse, Bucky simply walked out of the cabin to dive into the lake in front of it. You locked yourself in the shower, scrubbing your body over and over again. You had to switch the water to cold when your body started heating up.

Cold shower didn’t help much, sweat dampened your skin a few minutes after you stepped out of the bathroom. 

Your first aid kit consists of dire needs medicine, there are epinephrine shots but no simple antihistamine pills. And your current state doesn’t call for pumping yourself with adrenaline. 

Your body is producing enough of it. 

“No pill would help anyway.”

Bucky’s low grunt startles you. In your frenzy you didn’t notice him coming back, but now that you turned to him you can’t help but notice everything about him.

He’s still wet from his swim. Drops of water shimmer on his skin, his brown hair seemingly ink black, heavy with water. He’s got only his pants on, not even fully zipped. 

He’s standing by the kitchen counter, leaning over it, head bowed, arms strained as he grips the edge. Wood dents beneath his metal fingers.

“What do you mean?” You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Skin on skin contact, though it’s only yours, makes you shiver. 

“That heat-” your breath hitches when Bucky looks up at you, his eyes so intense. 

Your thin tank top and flimsy bottoms that cling to your damp skin feel nonexistent with how he takes in your body. 

He straightens and slowly walks over to you. Your heart rate seems to increase with each step that he takes. He backs you up against the cabinets. Towers over you, his massive form filling your vision and limiting the world for you to his body alone. 

“That itching-” he trails his fingers down your arm, eliciting goosebumps along their way. 

He slips his flesh arm around your waist and hooks his metal fingers under the strap of your tank top.

“There’s only one way to fill this hunger.” Bucky yanks on the strap, ripping your top off of you easily.

He captures your surprised yelp on his mouth; lips and tongue battling your resistance. 

Bucky’s touch sets your body ablaze. The kiss both satiates a growing need, as well worsens it. 

But he’s right - the itching beneath your skin melts into a pleasant hum, restoring energy in your body and making it shake with an urge to take more. Blood rushes through your veins, throbbing in your erect nipples and swelling clit. 

“N-no.” You pant when Bucky’s kisses move from your mouth to trail along your jaw and down your neck.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh, but you don’t exactly put any strength into pushing him away. Your protest, too, is more against the meaning behind Bucky’s words not against the pleasure he strums your body with.

“No, it can’t be.” Your eyes close, body jerking in a jolt of sensation as metal fingers squeeze your breast. Smooth, cool metal grazes your stiffened peak. 

“It was just-” a whimper escapes your lips when Bucky pinches your nipple, his other hand pulling down your bottoms. “Just petals. Just flower petals.”

Bucky kicks your legs wider apart as he slips his fingers between your folds.

“It made your petals weep for me,” he groans, stroking you and smearing your wetness around.

His intimate caress stirs up the flames of need, deepening the craving. It becomes painful, how each cell in your body seems to scream in need. Heat grows, trickling sweat down your back.  

“Make me come!” You beg, fisting Bucky’s hair. “Just please, make me come!”

“It won’t help much.” He warns as he eases a finger inside you. “The pollen made your body receptive. It craves its counterpart.”

Your brain feels scrambled, unable to fully understand what Bucky means. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it, just want to feel more of him, take more of him. A second finger slips along the first, stretching your walls, and you moan. 

“You need seed to fill you.” Bucky growls, pushing his fingers knuckles deep and pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. 

You gush all over his hand, your pussy soaking at the mere mention of being full of him. 

“You like that idea, Petal?” Bucky’s new nickname for you and the way he groans his question right next to your ear, make you shiver. “Want me to fill your sweet pussy?” 

“Please, please,” you start mumbling, lips pressed to Bucky’s bare shoulder, lavishing it with your tongue. 

His fingers feel good inside you, but it’s not enough. Like a burning after a really spicy pepper that no water can cool, the only saving is to dip your tongue in milk so the casein can break down capsaicin. How fitting that you need milky semen to wash out the burning in your womb.

“I need you to come for me first.” Bucky starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, his pace gradually increasing. “Have to loosen your tight cunt, or I’ll hurt you.” 

“It hurts more without you.” You whine, hips rocking back against his hand.

“So needy,” he mocks you. 

Bucky curls his fingers inside you, flicking them in a come-hither move as he presses his palm against your sensitive nub. He commands all of your tension to draw into that spongy spot he’s tormenting, clenching your walls and stealing your breath.

Until the coil snaps and you come with a wail.

You sink your teeth into Bucky’s shoulder when he keeps rubbing you raw, prolonging the tremors. When he pulls out it’s with an embarrassing squelch. He pushes his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free. 

Your legs are shaky, knees almost give out, but it stops being a problem the moment Bucky hoists you up. You cling to him, hands pressed against his back. Bucky hooks your legs over his elbows and slams you against the cabinets. 

His dick rests against your pussy; red, leaking head of him bumping into your oversensitive clit. 

You often heard your friends at work giggle as they made dirty speculations if super soldiers were also super endowed, but you never considered you’ll have a chance to find out how close to the truth they were.

Bucky might be even bigger than they imagined. 

“Guide me inside you, Petal.” He grunts, licking the shell of your ear. 

He rocks against you, his cock sliding up and down between your swollen folds. You slide your quivering fingers down across his chest and over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing under your touch, your effect on him as strong as he has on you. 

A needy sound escapes your mouth when his cock throbs as you trace up the length of him. When you close your hand over him, the tips of your fingers don’t even meet because he’s so thick.

You guide him to your entrance, gasping and throwing your head back as his tip stretches your opening.

Bucky stays still for a moment, his head tilting until he catches your gaze. Steel blue of his irises flashes something lethal and then he’s slamming into you in one stroke. 

You scream, your fingernails needling the skin on Bucky’s back. 

A prickle of pain seems to spur him on, his sounds low and gruttual as you slash his back in desperate attempt to ride out the mixture of pleasure and ache his rough fucking causes. 

He presses against you harder, plowing into you with fast, deep strokes. He’s chasing to sate the hunger gnawing at his own bones, his care for you yielding to his own need. And in a twisted way it turns you on more. 

Your back starts to hurt, the cabinets creaking louder and louder with your each move. When something behind you creaks and splinters, you let out a yip. 

“Fuck!” Bucky curses, stopping for a moment.

A second later the world twirls in front of your eyes.

Bucky drops you both to the floor, taking the impact on his back first then swiftly rolling on top of you. 

Your arms fall next to your head, cushioned on the wild fan of your hair. Cold tiles beneath you make you hiss at the contact, but don’t ease the heat that still licks your body with flames. 

Bucky pulls your legs up against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders. When he thrusts back inside you his cock pushes deeper, nudging your cervix. 

He falls forward, bending you in half as he reaches for your hands and intertwines your fingers. 

His hips slam against your ass, snaps of slapping skin echoing through the kitchen. Your slick trickles out of you, sticky cobwebs stretching between your buttocks and Bucky’s balls each time he withdraws. 

You’re almost nose to nose, Bucky’s gaze catching every flinch on your face, every twitch of pleasure. 

“Beg for my cum,” he rasps out, feeling your cunt pulsing around him. 

And you do. With eyes closed, head tilted back, you splutter pleadings and prayers as if Bucky was your god and you begged for a drop of water while stranded in the desert.

Each broken sentence urges Bucky on. Every cry and sound of his name falling from your lips makes him fuck into you harder, faster. 

You truly cry, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes and down your temples, when he rips another orgasm out of you. Your whole body writhes beneath him, Bucky’s weight pinning you down so you don’t slip away as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Your pussy tightens around him like a vice, yet he keeps pushing and pushing, rawing your walls. 

When Bucky finishes with a loud roar, his cum spilling inside you in hot, thick spurts, your senses seem to overload. Everything turns blank, your head filled with the buzzing noise of your blood rushing through you and Bucky’s groans of pleasure as his dick twitches inside you, filling you more and more. 

You don’t know how long you’re out of it. When your consciousness reconnects with reality and your eyes flutter open, Bucky’s peppering soft kisses over your chest and face. 

He’s still holding your hands. And he’s still inside you. Half-hard. 

“Can you get off?” Your voice is hoarse and weak. 

Bucky’s weight on top of you feels amazing. And that’s why you want him off, so it doesn’t become apparent you react to him even out of the pollen-induced haze.

“It’s not that easy, Petal.” Bucky looks down at you, then lowers his face so he can nibble on your bottom lip. 

“You think it’s all over now?” He asks with a chuckle. “That one round is enough?”

You’re not sure if it’s the lingering effects of pollen, or just Bucky’s proximity and words, but your body tingles anew. Warmth blooms in your belly, like an opening flower stretching its petals to touch every part of you. 

“Sorry, doll, but it’s not. It’ll take hours before it starts wearing off.” Bucky releases your hands and pulls himself up on his arms until he’s kneeling back.

He wraps his fingers around your ankles, gives each a kiss before sliding your legs down. He spreads you wide, throwing your thighs over his hips. 

“It can be hours of suffering,” he says as he kneels up, hands firmly holding your hips raise them along. 

“Or-” he rolls his hips into you, his cock twitching and hardening inside you.

Bucky spits down on your swollen clit and you cover your face with your hands to mask the flash of depraved pleasure it caused. But your body betrays you anyway, your pussy fluttering around his length. 

“So, what will it be?” He asks, holding your hips up with ease. 

“Fuck me!” You blurt out when a jolt of needy current sizzles down your spine.  

“As you wish, Petal.��� Bucky withdraws slightly then slams your hips back onto him, moving your body like a rag doll.    

[your-tutor-abacus]

The Color of the Sunspot's Milk

We don't drink milk on the Sunspot.

It's not really a thing for us.

We did not evolve from mammals, so we do not produce milk ourselves, typically. Actually, our life can't really be divided up into the same categories as Terran life, anyway, and the Evolutionary Engines that are used to create people now produce such a diversity of biological development that we can't use sweeping statements like that meaningfully. But, we strongly suspect based on evidence at hand that the Ktletaccete did not originally have anything like mammary glands.

And, on the Sunspot specifically, we do not consume anything produced by animals. It just never even occurred to the Founding Crew to set up the ship and our culture that way. The ecological balance of the Garden requires that we let the fauna live as naturally as possible without interference from people. So, we do not milk animals.

But it turns out that we drink something that is kinda of vaguely like milk. It often serves a similar culinary utility, particularly in baking.

We know this because we have been talking to our Earth custodians of the Terran Tunnel Apparatus, and they have tried a product they call Ryze that is an approximation of what we use on the Sunspot, and we've been trading notes.

So, in the search for accommodation, the ancestors of the Sunspot Ktletaccete developed a mixture of pureed fungus and algae that could provide a very young child or a disabled or elderly person with nutrients that might not otherwise be readily available to them. And we have been calling this something that our translators have decided to call "formula". We understand that this echoes the term many of you use for a fortified milk that you feed your infants, and that's acceptable.

But our formula comes in many varieties, customized for each person's needs and even each use they might have for it.

Fungal and algae farming has always been abundant and easy for us, so it is the least expensive food to create. It may not have been central to the diet of ancient Ktletaccete, but it has become pivotal to survival in space aboard our Exodus Ships. And now we use it in nearly everything.

We also eat a variety of nuts, fruits, grains, tubers, leaves, stalks, and other vegetable matter (or their Sunspot equivalents to what these words mean to you). And some of those things provide proteins and lipids that compliment what is provided by our various formulas, so depending on how we combine it we can create foods that sometimes resemble your breads, quiches, meat loafs, stews, etc.

But, also, Artisan crafted beverages is a huge thing here, which I understand some of your cultures might relate to. And our formula is central to that.

So, what are the main differences between our formula and milk? And what are the differences between our formula and something like Ryze?

Well, obvious, our formula is made entirely differently from milk, and does not share it's color. It's not white or even white-ish, typically.

Though some varieties of it can come close to white so that Artisans can add vibrant colors to it more easily without it turning brown, but the processing tends to remove a lot of nutrients from it, so it's not terribly popular outside of that visual utility.

It's also usually somewhat low on lipids, though those are definitely added for many baking purposes.

It's more of a suspension than an emulsion most of the time, as a result. But again, that varies on it's purpose.

And because of that, and the fact that it's made from fungus and algae, makes it very similar to things like Ryze, which is apparently currently available for something you call "a lot of money" by purchasing it over your Network (or Internet, as you say).

There are other drinks like Ryze, but it so happens that the girlfriend of our counterparts purchased Ryse specifically, so that is the one that they are trying. In particular, they are trying Ryze Matcha, as opposed to Ryse Coffee, since we don't have anything remotely like a coffee bean on the Sunspot, but we do have a green stimulant kind of vaguely like Matcha that can be added to our formula.

We can't really truly compare the sensations of drinking our various forumlas to drinking Ryze, because there is an enormous physical gulf between the Earth and the Sunspot, and we cannot transport either liquid nor taste buds and nervous systems across that distance. And translating words, even with in the same language, between two individuals' personal experiences is inherently inaccurate to begin with.

But we can make some conjectures.

As far as flavor is concerned, we can infer some things. Humans are omnivors with a variety of sensitivities to flavors, and apparently our counterparts are something called a supertaster. They are more highly sensitive to flavor than their typical peers.

They report that Ryze Matcha tastes "green". Not just that it is green in color and therefore the flavor it has can be described as green, but that it reminds them of other green things that they have eaten. There is a bit of a spinach flavor, they report, but its very faint. There is also a faint green tea flavor. We don't know what either of these things really mean, but we know that spinach is a leafy vegetable and that green tea is also made from leaves. But then, they also say that these flavors are not like either of these things, either. They're similar but different.

More specifically, they report that Ryze Matcha does not taste like most mushrooms they've eaten. In fact, it bears a closer resemblance to the flavors they get when they drink from an old jug of water that maybe has some green stuff growing on the inside of it.

"Why would you do that?" I asked them.

And they replied with, "Carelessness."

Anyway, this seems relatively in keeping with our experiences with formula. Usually, it tastes kind of like some other vegetable matter, but different. But, whether those ways are similar to how humans experience Ryse and vegetables on Earth, we really don't know.

What we do know for sure is color. That's something that can be measured quite precisely via the wavelengths of light.

Of course, we may perceive that color differently than you, but thanks to technological measuring devices and mathematics, we can use the same names for the same wavelengths of light. So, when I say that something is green on the Sunspot, you will be able to trust that if you somehow visited your neurology will interpret that thing as what you know of as green, adjusting for the difference in our ambient lighting, of course.

And, yes, some formulas we use are nearly as green as Ryze Matcha, and they are gorgeous.

But most formula ends up in a wide spectrum of color between what you call khaki and a deep vibrant purple, thanks to the dominant colors of most fungi and algae found on the Sunspot.

Our sun produces more ultraviolet light than yours does and there is less shielding between it and the surface of the Garden, so most of our plant life has developed its own shielding, which comes in varieties of purple. Mostly, it's the algae that carries the purple coloring. Most of our fungus isn't green, either, but even when it is, the purples of the algae shift the colors to brown when mixed with it.

But green mosses, ferns, and algae are found in the darkest, deepest parts of our forests, where the sun never reaches the ground directly, and we find that color to be captivating, so our ancestors bred a small variety of green food algae strains specifically for culinary variety.

And the flavor of that stuff is definitely what we could call green.

[crystalsnow95z]

your allergy fics are so good! would you be able to write one with jungkook? any caretaker, with jungkook coming into contact with something he's terribly allergic to but he wants to enjoy (like a bouquet of flowers or a cute kitten idk) and it sets him off sneezing a ton, with a super itchy nose. thank you!

I have plenty of mostly finished projects, but I can't bring myself to post them, so I keep working on new ones, and after months, I finally made one I like!

"Jaykay...Jungkook-ah.. wake up.. we're landing.." Hoseok shakes the mankae when his gentle approach doesn't work. "Jaykay your face is so puffy.." Hoseok smiles fondly, grabbing Jungkook's face and smooshing his face in between his fingers.

Jungkook moans in complaint, his eyes fluttering open to look at Hoseok. "Hyung..what time is it?" he grabs Hoseok's wrist to get him to stop attacking his cheeks, rubbing at his eyes. "It's morning still?"

"It is..Good morning Junggukkie." Hoseok smiles, feeling pride in successfully getting him to start moving. "It's because of the time difference. Remember?"

Jungkook studies his surroundings perplexed before his eyes widen with recognition when the sleep that fogged his memory dissipates, replaced with excitement. "Oh! I know! We're filming a music video!I'm so excited! We're going to be filming by a real waterfall and going to a garden with hundreds of different flowers and we're going to work with birds!" The memory of the meeting floods over him.

"We're going to get amazing photos. I wonder if we'll get to see a real toucan." Taehyung adds in his own excitement, leaning forward to talk to Jungkook.

"Toucan? Do you really think we can see a real one? I've seen videos of them and they don't look real." Hoseok adds in.

"Everyone, please return to your seats and buckle up." The boys hear the announcement, gathering up their things.

"Namjoon-ah do you have everything?" Yoongi asks, placing his tablet into his bag.

"Of course. You gifted me a holder for my passport after that incident in japan.." Namjoon pulls out the passport that was tucked into his shirt.

"That's because we almost couldn't perform.. you're lucky that man found it in the bathroom for you.. What about your headphones?"

Namjoon opens his airpod case, ears reddening when he sees there's only one inside, feeling around his seat until he finds it. "You knew i lost one didn't you hyung.."

"It fell out when you were sleeping." Yoongi smiles, then gasps in surprise when the turbulence hits, clutching onto the armrest, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"You okay Yoongi?" Jin asks, taking out his headphones when he feels Yoongi's hand brush against his arm.

"I'm okay, my stomach just fluttered.." Yoongi swallows the saliva that filled his mouth, taking a deep breath. "It'll pass.."

"We're almost on the ground, and we'll have a few hours to rest." Jin reassures the daegu rapper, taking his hand.

"Thanks hyungie.." Yoongi speaks softly, squeezing Jin's hand.

"You don't have to thank me. Just take it easy until the shoot okay?" Jin gently runs his thumb across Yoongi's knuckles.

"We landed!" Jungkook says excitedly, unbuckling himself, but Hoseok puts his hand on Jungkook's thigh.

"Let's wait a bit to get off Kook-ah." Hoseok orders gently side eyeing Yoongi, who still hadn't regained the color in his cheeks.

"Yes hyung..." Jungkook settles back in, eyes sparkling. It doesn't matter if I have to wait. I'll be able to film with the birds and see the waterfall and take pretty photos for army.

"Is everyone finished changing?" Namjoon asks, looking over his team, frowning when he notices Jungkook's darker outfit in comparison to everyone else's vibrant colors."Jungkook, that's the wrong outfit..that's for the garden shoot.."

"Aish..I'm sorry Hyung.." Jungkook quickly starts stripping to switch outfits. "Everything looks so pretty from the carride and the hotel view..I got excited.." he casts his eyes down guiltily. I'm not some teenager anymore.. I need to concentrate and not make such rookie mistakes.. I should've noticed I didn't match..

"It's okay, just pay attention from now on, alright? We need to focus on filming. We only have so much daylight with outside shoots." Namjoon rubs Jungkook's back, helping him get changed to make it quicker.

"I'll pay attention from now on.." Jungkook promises shyly looking away from Namjoon. After switching to match the others in the mankae line, the seven boys leave the dressing room, Jungkook fighting the urge to run towards the sound of the waterfall.

Hoseok and Jimin links arms with Jungkook, keeping him at pace with the others. "Calm down Jaykay you don't want to risk getting hurt on this uneven ground before we even get there." Hoseok scolds him gently, leading him around a tree root.

"I'll be careful, sorry hyung.." Jungkook watches his feet carefully stepping over branches and stones that made it on the path. Taehyung and Namjoon walk ahead of them, taking photos of the scenery in front of them. "Why can't I run free with Rapmonie hyung and Taehyungie-hyungie?"

"What? You don't want to walk with me?" Jimin pouts, letting go of Jungkook. "Fine, go play with them."

"I didn't mean it like that Jimin-shii.. I just wanted to go ahead too.." Jungkook relinks his arm with Jimin pulling him and Hoseok to walk ahead with the others.

"Look Hyung! That tree.. it's filled with birds." Jungkook points our, his voice scaring the birds into fleeing in several directions.

"Kook-ah you scared them away." Namjoon frowns, watching them go with disappointment.

"I'm sor..ah..ah.." Jungkook puts his hand over his nose with an itch forms, breath hitching. "Ah..heygifh!"

"[Bless you]" Jimin speaks in English. "You okay? Not catching a cold are you? You did sleep the whole plane ride.."

"No, no I'm okay..my nose just had a bad itch.."Jungkook sniffles, wiping his nose with the side of his hand. "A feather must've tickled my nose or something..I haven't felt sick today."

"I can see the waterfall!" Jin announces, everyone looking forward, trying to spot it through the trees.

"Oh wow, it's bigger than I thought it would be.." Yoongi's eyes widen when he sees it, the boys rushing to get closer.

Jungkook bends down to take a photo of a cluster of flowers,trying to ignore the itch that annoyed the tip of his nose.

"Don't get too close to the water, Jungkook-ah. You need to stay dry for the shoot."

"I won't hyung..I'm just looking at the flowers.." Jungkook's breath hitches when another sneeze builds up, but he gently rubs it away. I can't be getting sick now.. we're spending four days in a tropical paradise.

"Did you get water in your nose Gukkie?" Taehyung asks when he approaches Jungkook, the younger jumping when he sees Taehyung next to him.

"Aish, Hyung you scared me.. I didn't hear you coming over the water. I don't know what's wrong with me, but .ah..agh..heh'ticgish!" Jungkook quickly covers his face, Taehyung grabbing the back of his shirt to keep him balanced. "Ugh. Thanks Taehyungie-hyung. I was fine earlier..I don't know why I'm sneezing all of a sudden.."

"Maybe it's all the flowers.. maybe you should take some medicine just in case.." Taehyung suggests, pulling Jungkook away from them.

"But I want to get some good shots for Army to see." Jungkook whines, but makes no attempt to pull away.

"We have to work now. We can take photos together later, and I can take photos for you if you can't get close." Taehyung promises leading him back to the others. "Is there any way we can get allergy medicine for Jungkook? His nose is getting red and stuffy.."

"I'm sorry, but we would have to go back to the resort for that.. I'll send someone to go get some. Do you think you can film until then Jungkook-sii?" The manager asks.

"Yes, I'll be okay. It's not that bad. It's just an annoyance.. I can still film.." Jungkook replies politely.

A female staff member digs in her purse, handing him a small packet of tissues. "Here Jungkook. Blowing your nose might help."

"Thanks Noona.." he bows, turning away from the others to try to clear his nose of the clear goo. "That's much better.."

As soon as the seven members get their makeup redone and the director gives them their directions, the boys get right to work going through the scenes and choreography.

"Jimin-ah..you weren't looking in the same direction as the others and you led on the wrong foot.." Hoseok scolds him when they were reviewing the clips, noticing Jimin was looking at Jungkook who couldn't stop sniffling, fighting off the urge to sneeze.

"I'm sorry.. can we do it one more time? I'll get it right this time." Jimin bows in apology to his members, looking at Jungkook when he does it. Jungkookie looks uncomfortable..I need to get it right the first time so he can get some time to rest.

Jungkook tries to hold back another sneeze when he sees Jimin's worried gaze staring back at him, but Jimin could see his nose twitching as the itch builds up.

"Noona will be back soon.." Jimin gently uses his thumb to wipe the tear that formed in Jungkook's tear duct. "You don't have to be tough for us, okay?"

"I'm not crying..my eyes are just watering because of my allergies.." Jungkook sniffles. "I'm okay..it's just irrita..ah..itdgitch! Heh'itchu!"

"Bless you.." Hoseok frowns, hugging Jungkook from behind. "My poor baby.."

"Jungkook-sii I got..you the medicine." The staff member who ran to the resort calls to him, out of breath from running back.

Taehyung rushes over to get the medicine from her, popping the blister pack to get the round pink pill for Jungkook, bringing it back to him. "Here Jungkookie, I got it."

"Thanks Hyung." Jungkook swallows the pill Taehyung gives him, Jimin getting him water to help it go down quicker. "Let's do the shoot again."

"You don't want time for it to kick in?” Jin asks, fretting over the youngest.

Jungkook shakes his head."No, I already got us behind schedule with all the touch ups.. I can do it.."

Jungkook and Taehyung rush ahead of the other members despite the older members calling to them,unable to hear them over the sound of the birds.

"Oh wow.. it's so pretty!" Jungkook's pupils take over his irises, his eyes becoming to round black discs, taking in the special guests for their music video. "Oh wow..This one's purple..I never seen a purple bird before!'

"This is [purple honeycreeper.] This one rescue. I thought he would be perfect for you ." The bird handler smiles when he sees the boys look surprised at his Korean skills.

"[Purple honeycreeper..]" Jungkook repeats the name in English. "[What's bird name?]"

"[Ah, right introductions...] I'm Gary and this bird here is Viola."

"Can I touch?" Jungkook asks, ignoring his body's warning. The medicine helped him yesterday, but at the moment he felt just as bad as he did the first day they were filming.

"Hold out finger." Gary tells him, showing Taehyung what to do by getting Viola to go on his finger. "[Step up Viola.]" He gives the command, letting her climb onto his finger.

The other members catch up, taking in the sights of the colorful birds surrounding them.

Jungkook holds his to Viola, gasping when he feels the bird use its beak to balance herself while she climbs onto his finger. "Look Hyung..i'm holding a bird!" Jungkook sniffles, turning to the man. "Can i pet?"

"As long as you only touch her head and neck." Gary gently ordered.

"You can't touch a bird anywhere else or it will think you want to mate." Yoongi tells Jungkook.

Jungkook turns to the handler, who blushes."Ah, that's true. It.. excites them if you touch its wings or chest too much.."

Jungkook nods, gently touching Viola's head, gently ruffling the feathers. Oh no.. not now..

Jungkook quickly places his hand on Taehyung's shoulder, hoping the bird would have a safe escape from the sneezes he could feel coming despite his efforts to hold them back. "Heh'heh..heygifh! Heh'itchu! Higtcvhsgh!"

Viola screeches, flapping her wings in fear jumping off of Jungkook's hand and jumping onto Taehyung's head, trying to get farther from the sound that startled her.

The other birds go into panic at the sound of viola, Hoseok clinging to Namjoon when they take flight.

Jungkook covers his face,trying to muffle the sound, but when the birds take flight the feeling only worsens. "Hehtichih!"

"[Woah, Woah. It's okay Viola.. it's okay..]" Taehyung tries to speak English for the frightened bird, Gary trying to calm his other pets down.

"Somethings wrong you need to get away.." Jin starts leading Jungkook away from the chaos, his heart racing in fear.

I can't breathe..I need to calm down..

Jungkook staggered away from the others, Jin keeping a tight grip on the mankae"Woah Jungkook I got you.."

"Heh..hehitxgh! Heh'itchu! Hey'itchi!" Jungkook let out another flurry of sneezes, holding Jin tightly. It wasn't the flowers..

"Here Jungkookie, look at me.." Jin gently leads his chin up, taking a nasal spray from the bag he was given as an accessory. "I got this just in case.."

"Thanks hyung.." Jungkook sniffles, taking it from Jin. "Heh'itchii! Hey'itchi!" He sneezes as soon as he puts it near his nose only amplifying the itch that plagued his sinuses.

"Here let hyung do it." Jin gently grabs Jungkook's chin, tilting his head upwards. "Try to sit still for me. I'll make it quick..okay?"

Jungkook nods, holding his breath to try to avoid sneezing on Jin as he swiftly sprays the medicine into one nostril than the other.

"Hei' etfhitch! Heh'itchu!" Jungkook's eyes water as he sneezes. "I'm sorry Hyung.."

"It's okay baby.. I know you aren't feeling well." Jin rubs the back of Jungkook's neck. "I think your allergic to birds Jungkookie.."

"I was around birds before..I was fine.." Jungkook sniffles, rubbing at his nose to try to ease the itch that threatened to cause more sneezes to erupt from him.

"You can develop new allergies Kook-ah.. I know how excited you were to play with them, but outside of filming I think you should avoid them." Jin tells him solemnly.

Yoongi goes up to them with a small packet of tissues,giving it to Jungkook. "They got the birds under control, but they want to give them time to fully calm down."

"That's good. I was worried I ruined the...heh..heh.." Jungkook felt the sneeze building, but it was only a false start. "Ruined the music shoot.." he finishes, his voice coming out as a nasally whisper, trying to clear his nose to see if that would ease the discomfort that was making him miserable.

"It's not your fault, Jungkookie. We could always make changes. What's important is that you don't suffer for the shoot. Even if you push through it, army will be able to see how much you're suffering." Yoongi puts his arm around Jungkook, pulling him close.

"I'll go get the others so we can see what our next move is. We'll figure this out together, okay Kookie?" Jin leaves to the filming site.

"Hyung I really wanted to play with the birds.." Jungkook sighs, knowing that all the members would agree with Jin.

"I know. Life sucks.. now you and Jiminie can suffer together." Yoongi teases him lightly, getting a small smile out of Jungkook.

[visit-new-york]

Bethesda Terrace

Bethesda Terrace and surrounding areas:

Wedding and Engagement Photos: Bethesda Terrace is a popular spot for wedding and engagement photoshoots due to its romantic ambiance and picturesque setting. The elegant architecture and the angel-topped fountain make for stunning backdrops for these special occasions.

Four Seasons: Bethesda Terrace offers a different experience in each season. In the spring, the terrace is surrounded by blooming flowers, while in the fall, the changing leaves create a vibrant and colorful landscape. During the winter, the terrace can be especially enchanting when covered in snow, and the fountain is occasionally frozen.

Ice Skating: In the colder months, Central Park's Wollman Rink, located just a short walk from Bethesda Terrace, offers ice skating. Skating in this idyllic setting with the terrace in the background is a beloved winter activity for locals and visitors alike.

Central Park Conservatory Garden: Located to the north of Bethesda Terrace, the Central Park Conservatory Garden is a beautifully landscaped formal garden with various themed sections, including Italian, French, and English gardens. It's a tranquil oasis within the park and is worth exploring if you're in the area.

Bethesda Terrace in Popular Culture: Apart from its appearances in movies and music videos, Bethesda Terrace has been featured in various television shows and commercials. Its iconic status in popular culture has made it a recognizable symbol of Central Park worldwide.

Preservation Efforts: The preservation of Bethesda Terrace and other historic structures in Central Park is an ongoing effort. Conservationists work tirelessly to maintain the terrace's original character and ensure its longevity for future generations to enjoy.

Public Art and Events: The area surrounding Bethesda Terrace often hosts temporary public art installations and cultural events. These events add an extra layer of vibrancy and creativity to the terrace's atmosphere.

Central Park's Role in the Community: Bethesda Terrace, along with the rest of Central Park, plays a crucial role in the lives of New Yorkers. It serves as a space for relaxation, exercise, cultural events, and community gatherings, providing a respite from the bustling city streets.

Whether you're visiting Central Park for its natural beauty, historical significance, cultural events, or simply to take in the sights and sounds of the city, Bethesda Terrace remains a timeless and enchanting destination that captures the essence of this iconic urban park.

Angel of the Waters: The sculpture atop the Bethesda Fountain, known as the "Angel of the Waters," is not only a beautiful work of art but also carries symbolic significance. It represents the healing powers of water, which aligns with the terrace's proximity to the Central Park Lake and the Ramble.

Wedding Proposals: Due to its romantic setting and picturesque backdrop, Bethesda Terrace is a popular spot for marriage proposals. Many couples choose this location to pop the question, making it a memorable and sentimental place for them.

Central Park Zoo: Just a short walk from Bethesda Terrace is the Central Park Zoo. It's a family-friendly attraction that houses a variety of animals and offers educational programs for visitors of all ages. It's a great place to complement your visit to the terrace.

Artists and Street Performers: Bethesda Terrace often attracts artists and street performers who set up their easels, create artwork, or showcase their talents, adding to the artistic atmosphere of the area.

Boat Rentals: Nearby Loeb Boathouse offers rowboat and gondola rentals for a serene experience on the Central Park Lake. Paddling around the lake can be a relaxing and enjoyable way to spend time in the park.

Historical Significance: Bethesda Terrace is not only a beautiful architectural feature but also a piece of New York City history. It has been a gathering place for generations of New Yorkers and remains a symbol of the enduring allure of Central Park.

Views and Photography: The terrace offers some of the best views in Central Park, whether you're looking out over the lake or capturing the intricate architectural details of the terrace itself. It's a fantastic location for photography enthusiasts.

Restaurants and Dining: The Central Park Boathouse Restaurant, located adjacent to the terrace, offers both casual and fine dining experiences with a view of the lake. It's a great place to enjoy a meal while taking in the park's beauty.

In conclusion, Bethesda Terrace in Central Park is a multifaceted destination that appeals to a wide range of interests and activities. Whether you're seeking relaxation, cultural enrichment, natural beauty, or a touch of romance, this iconic spot within Central Park has something to offer everyone who visits.

Bethesda Terrace  Read more

[linxuelian]

Anime Fest Plus 2024 Convention Experience Log - With Photos!

Hi, hello! As I've recently (as of this post, yesterday morning) attended Anime Fest+ 2024 at Tropicana Gardens Mall, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia, I've decided to write an experience log about my day there! While I will be posting a few different cosplays here, since my blog is currently primarily about MDZS, TGCF and SVSSS at the moment, most of the cosplays I'll be sharing will be from these three titles. To add to the fun, I'll also have commentaries on them!

To preface, the largest anime convention in Malaysia is Comic Fiesta, an annual mecca with 70,000 attendees as of the year 2023. Anime, games and comics are popular in this country, so there are smaller cons dotted throughout the months.

Anyway, the crowd wasn't as large as Comic Fiesta. As the structure of Tropicana Gardens Mall is rather narrow, you'd technically have to file through in two to three lines to be able to walk in and out of the place.

The exhibition hall at the fourth floor hosted all performances as well as cosplay booths. You'd have to ride one of the two escalators up to the hall - plebs without a ticket are doomed to be stranded at the bottom of said escalators, unable to sop up the merriment held exclusively above.

Here are some pics though, just in case you were a pleb that day, or just didn't attend the event:

Main hall programs and booths featured mostly Hololive and sexy pretty girl cosplayers and figurines, given the regular, expected fare when it comes to the anime consuming demographic (yes, I'm calling you out, my anime-watching brothers). I didn't take pictures of the doujinshi market out of respect for the art sellers there, but I did buy a beautiful print and got some lovely free stickers from that ONE vendor who sold BL stuff among the throngs of moe girls/Genshin Impact.

Yes, there was only one stall. But that one vendor made my day! Bless your heart, sister!

Now, I'll move on to the highlight - the cosplays. Nothing fills my heart with more joy than seeing happy people wearing colorful costumes and having a blast just being part of the convention scene. To be honest, it's so common to be wearing cosplay outfits nowadays that folk don't even notice you when you're dressed up - and I say this from experience; nobody noticed at all that I was in costume (or they were far too polite to laugh at how shitty I looked LOL, I didn't even dare take pics of myself). These events usually become scavenger hunts for me, to identify the ones from series I know or my tribe (fellow MXTX fans aha!).

First up is an oldie that's a goldie - Mr. Spock from Star Trek (credit: FaceBook user Yasuhiro Orihusay):

Honestly, I did NOT expect to find any Star Trek cosplays there. My dad's a Trekkie, so this was one of the first pics I sent him at the con itself. Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock!

Next, a furry OC:

I wasn't able to get their social media account as they were waiting in line for an autograph by a cosplayer, so unfortunately I'm unable to credit here.

Furries are currently still a new thing in Malaysia - but I'm glad to see them appearing more frequently at our cons, since they do diversify our pop culture scene quite a bit. Furs Upon Malaysia (FURUM) is held annually in Kuala Lumpur. The tickets are always sold out within an hour, so it's definitely growing and also contributing to tourism (Indonesian and Singaporean furries gather there too).

Also, they're fluffy. I love fluffy things. Much thanks, furry fandom, for being fluffy!

Moving on, here's a group cosplay of Jojo's Bizzare Adventure's Six Pistols (Mista from Golden Wind's Stands, if you're wondering which season it's from):

Vibrant and very spot on! I was unable to get their social media account due to the crowd and disorientation on my part. Do try to look them up, though! They were pretty popular, so I'm sure someone would have shared some info if you're interested.

Anyway, here's a White Mage from Final Fantasy (credit: https://www.instagram.com/yari_hayashi/):

Final Fantasy's one of the older franchises, but it's definitely rising again due to the new FFVII remake. I thought he was Garnet until I saw the blond wig. Bless the mages, healing power plus!!

Next in line is one of my all-time favorites, Sailor Moon (credit: https://www.instagram.com/jiahuab0719_cos/):

I'm a Moonie so seeing a Sailor Moon made me pretty excited! I don't see too many Sailor Moon cosplays even in Comic Fiesta - cosplays at our conventions are pretty seasonal and tend to follow trends, from what I've seen. She definitely caught quite a bit of attention with her wings, too. I saw her getting stopped quite a bit, so I'm glad I got a pic before a line formed!

Aaaand! I've saved the best for last! I'll be showcasing the MXTX stuff now. To start off (with a bang), here are two cosplayers of the number one seasonal love interest of the BL world, Hua Cheng a.k.a. San Lang Didi (Grown Up Version):

Credit: https://www.instagram.com/karry.1213/ (donghua version) and https://www.instagram.com/kopiii_cos/ (manhua version)

Remember how I said cosplays at Malaysian conventions tend to be pretty seasonal? Well, the current flavor of the month for the BL world is definitely TGCF - and the hottest flavor is now San Lang didi. You're going to get stopped for photos pretty often for dressing up as this flashy guy, and for good reason too. Donned in striking red, Hua Cheng is the Ferrari of the danmei world.

I overhead Kopiii_cos' friend saying so many people have been asking for photos! Viva Fafa!

Next, we have the ever beautiful WangXian couple cosplays:

Credit: Wei Wuxian (https://www.instagram.com/purple_384/) and Lan Wangji (https://www.instagram.com/anson1510/)

WangXian's a staple when it comes to the MXTX fandom. There's nary a person who doesn't love these two soulmates, and with these elaborate costumes, they've certainly stolen the show! They were the first couple I saw at the entrance of the exhibition hall, which makes sense since there was an OTP contest going on that afternoon.

Moving along, we have the main character of his story, the Crown Prince of Xian Le, Xie Lian (credit: https://www.instagram.com/arkutagwa/):

I gotta admit that this Lian's the sweetest of the Xies so far. Had a field day calling each other cute (what can I say, we both had cute personalities)! Gotta love that charming dimpled cheek, bless!

Speaking of cute, there's also this whole cute pose thing going on with certain attendees (credit: https://www.instagram.com/chzesin/):

I won't lie - I didn't recognize the character at first. But with the dark-gray-to-white ombre, black and red colors to tell you that's a Wei Wuxian, I'm just going to take a gamble here and deduce that yes, that is indeed a Wei Wuxian and include it. Let me know if you don't think it is.

Last but not least, we have our MXTX OTP group:

Credits: https://www.instagram.com/ayafvrvv/ (Luo Binghe) and https://www.instagram.com/close0402/ (Lan Wangji) - the rest didn't share their social media accounts but they did say you can find them through each other's accounts.

Turns out they're a group who'd entered the OTP contest that afternoon. If you're wondering, no, Binghe isn't paired with air (this is Bing-mei, not Bing-ge). There was a large number of attendees that day as it was Sunday, so their Shizun was still looking for parking. I'd gotten lucky since I'd arrived there just as they'd opened up Basement 3 so ZOOM I parked near the escalators with plenty of space to spare. Until today I chalk it up to being last-minute dressed as Xie Lian, the god of good luck for hobos like myself (or, according to popular belief, Hua Cheng's blessed every Xie Lian cosplayer out there no matter how much we look like we've just stepped out of a jungle). I also had plenty of space to sit for a lovely lunch of salad and green tea!

Granted, there were actually a few other Xie Lians there as well (he's the current flavor as well), but I didn't want to chase after them from afar since the flow of human traffic in this particular mall wasn't too conducive for trying to get pictures, unlike KLCC's garden. Usually, more fans are dressed as the two main characters, Wei Wuxian and Xie Lian - or the shous/bottoms in popular danmei. Surprisingly, I actually saw quite a number of gongs/tops this trip round.

So as a bonus, here's a pic with all our dandy gongs/tops together:

A dashing lot, aren't they?

Anyway, this wraps up my experience log as an MXTX cosplay hunter! Hope you enjoyed it! Bless!

[ellesimsworld]

Spruce Collection: Sims 4 Custom Content

Hi there,

I introduce to you Spruce: A Spring themed mini collection with 6 items. Whether your Sims are strolling through blooming gardens or enjoying a picnic in the park, Spruce ensures they do so in style. With vibrant colors and charming plaid designs, this mini collection adds a touch of springtime magic to your Sims' wardrobes! 🤍

Available for download on my Patreon.

lots of love,

-elle

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (teaser) | myg

teaser: busted (m) (3tan10)  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+) ; [redacted] ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: [redacted lol just trust me] note: alright, listen.. the chapter is coming along but plans and life got in the way so i wasn’t able to get it done before tour. however, i do have a lot of it written/halfway done, so i feel comfortable enough to offer y’all a teaser and will finish it out once i’m done with this trip. i do hope y’all understand, 3tan is coming back v v soon ! :’))  note 2: as for the rest of this chapter.. fuck lol warnings: none for teaser, final list to be named on drop day! est. drop date: late may - early june 2023 teaser wc: 1.8k est. total wc: 15-18k

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-

Here goes nothing and everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However. 

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

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

It’s weird to say it. 

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

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

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And, just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. Nights you spent wondering what happened, days you spent feeling unwanted, 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 up.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You spare a look at your door. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

Even though it’s completely silent.

You know damn well 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 sear of his questions flaring up 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 rip the door open and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

-

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tbc. :’))) 

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ahh how do we feel !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: soooooo here you go before i continue with the rest of vacay!! LMAOO wouldn’t it be so funny if the whole chapter drops by surprise like y’all are wanting it to? just like this? wild.... A/N 2: always always gonna thank everyone that’s reading and supporting the series! there’s gonna be a lot happening in this chapter just like forfeit, so note-taking or bulletpoint format while reading might be a thing again if you wanna be able to remember things.. ahaha. pls give me strength bc i need it T^T  ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist  ⇥ 18+ only taglist!  ⇥ masterlist 

[ashwritesmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker (interlude)

Female Reader x Male Mothperson (Desmond)

Prev: [Part 1] Next: [Part 2]

Words: 2k

Note: Just thought I'd put out something sorta cute and short to set up for the rest of Desmond's story! There's more coming, I'm just slow 😭

Long before Willow Grove wakes, Martha has already begun her day. The sky is still painted with stars when she ascends the spiral stairs of the old lighthouse.

Inside her cozy studio, built into the circular brick room just below where the lighthouse's lamp used to be, she brushes a hand over her equipment, the cool metal as familiar and comforting as an old friend.

She pours herself a steaming cup of coffee blacker than night. With the practiced ease of decades, Martha adjusts her headphones, the soft padding a familiar weight against her silver-streaked hair. She takes a moment to gaze out of the window at the slowly brightening sky. From here, she can see the town stirring to life - an early bird Selkie heading out to the sea, the night-shift Mothman flying home, a Lupine yawning on a porch.

As she takes her last sip of coffee, she turns the dials on her control panel, and with a deep breath, she begins another day in Willow Grove. The gentle crackle of the airwaves, then her voice, warm and comforting, fills the silence.

"Good morning, Willow Grove! It's your favorite voice, Martha, back again to brighten up your morning here on WG 98.5. What's the buzz around town, you ask? Well, let's dive in with the morning news!

Remember the Langston's garden gnome that mysteriously disappeared last week? Yes, that cherubic one with the red pointy hat. Well, it's been found! Our mayor's son, Desmond, found it perched on a pine tree during his nightly flight. Nothing like some harmless mischief to add a dash of excitement to our lives, isn't it?

Now, our Selkie friend, Bella, deserves some applause. She's just returned from a successful sardine run. Ah, to be blessed with such fresh catch for the upcoming town bake-off! Do drop by the dock to show some love. I'm sure she's got something delicious in the works.

On the Lupine side of things, have you seen the majestic new mural on the side of the grocer's? Talented painter and Lupine, Marla, has been adding the finishing touches under the moonlight. Don't miss it when you're in town for groceries, it's a true masterpiece.

Now, for the drumroll, folks! In just under two weeks, our favorite time of the year will be upon us. That's right, the annual Founding Festival is right around the corner! I can already taste the moon cakes and hear the shell flutes piping. Mothpeople, Selkies, Lupines, and Humans alike, let's get ready to celebrate the vibrant tapestry that makes Willow Grove our home. So, mark your calendars, folks!

That's all for the morning roundup, Willow Grove. Let's have a splendid day and remember - keep your smiles wide and your hearts open. Martha, signing off. Now, the music."

***

As you stand at the edge of Willow Grove, your heart swells with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The last leg of your hike along the Appalachian Trail has left you feeling haggard, your once-neat hiking outfit now with far too many holes, and the straps of your camera bag digging into your shoulders. But as you gaze upon the town, you can't help but feel that it was all worth it.

"Here goes nothing," you whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath and stepping onto the cobblestone streets.

The quaint charm of the town immediately envelopes you. The buildings are an eclectic mix of architectural styles – from Victorian cottages to modern storefronts, each adorned with colorful shutters and planter boxes overflowing with flowers. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air, tempting you to forget everything and eat your way into a carb coma.

"Wow," you murmur under your breath, already feeling your weary limbs lightening at the sight of this picturesque haven. It's unlike any place you've ever been before, and yet, it feels strangely like home.

You walk further into town, your eyes drinking in the lush, wooded surroundings. Leaves of every shade of green rustle gently above you, casting dappled sunlight onto the cobbled path. Birds flit between the branches, their cheerful melodies sounding suspiciously like a welcome. You can't resist snapping a few photos with your trusty film camera, capturing the beauty of this magical place. Maybe Desmond would like these shots; perhaps he'd be proud that you followed through on your promise to visit his hometown.

"Keep it together," you chide yourself, shaking off the butterflies threatening to take flight in your stomach. "You came here for a fresh start, remember?"

But even as you remind yourself of your initial intentions, there's no denying that the thought of possibly bumping into Desmond again sends a thrill down your spine. You went on this insane journey seeking solace in nature and photography after the breakup, but now that you're here, the possibility of rekindling things with Desmond is too close to ignore.

"Focus," you tell yourself firmly, snapping one last photo of a particularly charming ivy-covered house before making your way further into town. "You're here for you, not just for him."

With that in mind, you continue your exploration of Willow Grove, utterly enchanted by its beauty and magic. And as you wander the streets, camera in hand, you can't help but feel that maybe – just maybe – this place is exactly what you need.

"Excuse me," you approach a group of friendly-looking townsfolk, hoping they can point you in the direction of a place to stay. "I just arrived in town and was wondering if there's an inn or something nearby?"

"Of course!" one woman replies with a warm smile. "There's a lovely little bed and breakfast run by a Lupine named Evangeline. It's just down the road, on the left side."

"Thank you," you say gratefully, already feeling welcomed by their kindness.

"By the way," another person chimes in, "You're just in time for our Founding Festival! We're all getting ready for it, so there's a lot of excitement around town."

"Sounds like fun," you reply, imagining the celebrations and camaraderie that must come with a big event in a small town. "I'll definitely check it out."

With their directions in mind, you continue on your way, finding yourself in the town square not long after. A weathered, important-looking statue stands at its center, depicting a Mothman, a Selkie, and a Lupine, all standing tall and proud in unity. The plaque at its base is weathered to the point of being near-unreadable, but it's easy to gather that the town has been quite diverse ever since its founding hundreds of years ago.

Around the statue, townsfolk are busy setting up stalls and decorations, their laughter and cheerfulness filling the air. You can't help but feel a sense of belonging in this close-knit community, and the anticipation of the upcoming festival only fuels your excitement. You raise your camera to your eye, and unlike people in the big cities, the townsfolk don't mind that you're snapping a picture with them in it. If anything, you think they smile a little wider.

After taking in the scene, you make your way to the bed and breakfast, finding it as charming and inviting as described. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air as you enter, and a fire crackles in the hearth, welcoming you with its warmth. You can't help but smile as you approach the front desk, where a friendly Lupine woman greets you, her fur dark brown and shiny. She's slightly hunched over in a way that makes you think either the ceiling is low or she is huge.

"Welcome to my bed and breakfast," she says with a kind smile, tactfully baring only the faintest hint of her sharp teeth. "I'm Evangeline. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Evangeline," you reply, returning her smile. "I'd like to book a room for a couple of weeks, if that's possible."

"Of course! We have plenty of availability." She begins the check-in process by pulling out an actual paper and pen with her paws, and you feel a sense of relief knowing you've found a place to call home during your time in Willow Grove.

As you settle into your new lodgings, the excitement of the upcoming Founding Festival mingles with the possibility of seeing Desmond again. You remind yourself not to let that prospect overshadow the personal journey you're on, but there's no denying the allure of reconnecting with him. For now, though, you focus on the present — immersing yourself in the charm of Willow Grove, camera always at the ready for picture-perfect moments in this picture-perfect town.

The late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as you close the door behind you. Your new temporary sanctuary is cozy, with a plush bed and antique wooden dresser, adorned with framed photos of Willow Grove's natural beauty. The anticipation of meeting Desmond again brings a fluttery sensation to your chest, like butterflies dancing between each heartbeat.

"Alright," you say to yourself, trying to shake off the nerves. "Get it together."

As you unpack your belongings, your thoughts drift back to the night you shared with Desmond on the trail. In the grand scheme of things, it was so brief and quick. But between the vulnerability you both had exposed to each other and the heartfelt conversation around the fire (and the mind-blowing sex), you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. So deeply drawn to him that you were here now.

"Wish I could've called ahead," you mutter, placing your camera on the dresser. "Would that have been less... weird?"

You pause, staring at your reflection in the mirror above the dresser. A tired but determined face gazes back, and you take a deep breath. You paid for two weeks in this room—there's no turning back now.

"Okay, let's think this through," you tell yourself, sitting on the bed. "If Desmond thinks I'm crazy for coming here, I'll just... deal with it. We're both adults. Right? Besides, I didn't come all this way just for him. I came for me too."

You shuck off your dirty windbreaker, shaking your head. You're too tired to think things through. You lay back on the bed, the soft mattress embracing you like a specific long lost lover. The tiredness you feel goes beyond the physical. You're mentally and physically exhausted from living like a cavewoman the past few months. But here, in this cozy little room, surrounded by the enchanting beauty of Willow Grove, you finally feel a sense of peace. The kind of peace that comes from being in a place that feels like home, even if it's your first time being here.

As you close your eyes, you think of Desmond, his chitinous features and piercing carnelian eyes. You can almost feel his touch again, his mandibles on your lips, his strong arms wrapped around your body, his proboscis... elsewhere. You let out a sigh, knowing that there's no point in kidding yourself. You came here for Desmond, and Desmond alone. You're not sure where things stand between the two of you, but you know that there's a connection between you that can't be ignored. Even if it makes you look a little crazy. Okay, a lot crazy.

But for now, you allow yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber. This is the first real bed you've slept in for months, and tomorrow, you'll take the first real shower in months. And also apologize to the kind Lupine lady downstairs for getting your filth all over the sheets.

[olenaart]

“Impasto Wildflower Symphony” https://www.artfinder.com/product/impasto-garden-symphony-c9865/ A Lively Meadow in Colorful Relief

Impasto Garden Symphony

Step into the vibrant and textured world of “Impasto Wildflower Symphony”, an enchanting artwork that celebrates the exuberance of a blooming meadow. This three-dimensional masterpiece bursts forth with expressive character, capturing the essence of nature’s joyous field.

Key Features:

Impasto Technique: The artist skillfully employs thick impasto strokes, breathing life into the vivid flowers. Each brushstroke adds dimension, making the scene dynamic and captivating.

Rich Palette: Reds, pinks, yellows, purples, and blues intermingle harmoniously, mirroring the riotous hues of a sun-kissed meadow.

Textured Delight: Dabs and splatters of paint create a tactile experience, inviting viewers to explore the wild growth of the landscape.

Three-Dimensional Wonder: The canvas comes alive, inviting you to immerse yourself in the blossoming beauty.

Don’t let this unique and captivating artwork slip away. Add “Impasto Wildflower Symphony” to your collection and revel in the expressive nature of a flourishing meadow. 🌸🎨🌿 #texture #colourful #acrylic #canvas #vibrant #relief #pallet knife #artwork #painting #wildflowers #meadow #impasto #colorful #vibrant #dynamic #expressive #nature #texture #blooming #richpalette #three-dimensional #joyousfield @Artfinder @ArtRepublic

[nynaevedesign]

Camp Hibiscus Plant Looking for a new shrub idea for a focal point or hedge? These hibiscuses feature stunning flowers that contrast against the vibrant green foliage and are sure to brighten any sunny area of your sim's landscape. They can be potted to frame an entrance, or planted as a colorful hedge that will add an easy-going, tropical flair to the garden. You'll get 3 plants and a pot. The plants come in 10 colors; the pot has 20 swatches. Base game compatible. Optimized for low-end computers. You can choose if you want the plant in a pot or without. Download: NynaeveDesign.com

[takumihum]

GerIta Week 2024 - All Days

Day 1 (Mar 16): Garden | “The colours are so vibrant!”

Flowers 🌸 💐 and colors for these prompts . There are shades represent cornflowers 💙 🟦 of Germany 🇩🇪 and lilly 🤍 ⬜of Italy 🇮🇹 ……

Day 2 (Mar 17): Celebration | "I'm glad I got to spend today with you."

Celebration for Valentines ♥️❤️❤️‍🔥❣️💕💞💓💗💖💘💝 🍫, White Day 🤍☁️☁️, and Italy 🇮🇹 ‘s birthday 🪅🎉🎁🎈🎈🥳 🎉 🎂

Day 3 (Mar 18): Ice cream | “I think you need a napkin.”

Ice creams 🍦 🍨 cakes 🎂 🍰 🧁 , chocolate 🍫 , sweets and drinks 🍬🍩🍭🍡🍧🍹 🥂🥤🧋 all over….

Day 4 (Mar 19): Plushies | “It’s cute, just like you!”

Plushies decorated on layers of pianos 🎹 and the Valentine Love Couple Chair

🛋🛋🧸🧸🧸🧸🎀♥️💖

🎹 🎹 🎹 🎹 🎹 🎹 🎹 🎹

Day 5 (Mar 20): Architecture | “Is this bringing up memories too?”

This handmade pop up card is paper Architecture 💌🔖📝📏📐✂️🌆💒 made by Ludwig 🇩🇪 lol 😆

There is also a sticker of Rome in Italy 🇮🇹 ( at the front of the card ) lol 😆

Day 6 (Mar 21): Butterfly kisses | “You’re so cute when you do that.”

Butterflies 🦋 🦋🦋🦋 surrounding the Valentine Heart Chair of plushies 🛋🛋🧸🧸🧸🧸🎀♥️💖

Day 7 (Mar 22): Free Day (or canon moment)

🇩🇪:

Happy birthday 🎉🎈🎁🎂🎊,

Feliciano 🇮🇹 💓💗💖💘💝💞💕❣️

Also, belated Celebration of Valentines and White Day

Let’s make some cakes 🎂, chocolate 🍫 , ice cream 🍨 , tea 🍵 and enjoy them in the garden of love 💐🌹🌷🌺🌸🌼🌻🪷💓💗💖💘💝💞💕❣️❤️, then cuddle with plushies🦉 🧸🧸🦉made by me and ….exchange butterflies kisses 🦋🦋💋💋💋💋💕❣️

I'm glad I got to spend today with you 🇩🇪🇮🇹💕

How about we cycling and spending this March 3️⃣ in Italy 🇮🇹 to dedicate to your birth month 3️⃣, dear ?

GerIta week 2024 - All days .

Finished 💯 percent.

I had no time to make Chibi GerIta for the pop up card…..so may be I will add some later or for another occasions.....

Thank you so incredibly much for the event @geritaweek

[bihanspookies]

The First Meeting

Summary: Takes place during MK3 when Kung Lao is seemingly killed by Shao Kahn. He ends up in the Garden of Lotós, where he meets Kasiya, the deity and ferrywoman that helps souls cross into their next phase. A bit of ref to MK Gold.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You— you should not be here.”

Kasiya’s eyebrows raise as the tips of her fingers delicately touch her lips, humming softly in thought as she looks at the Shaolin Monk who looks equally as confused. He had suddenly burst forth from the forest, skidding to a stop, huffing and puffing to catch his breath.

“What is this place?” Kung Lao demands, wide eyes as he takes in his surroundings. Colorful flora and vibrant fauna no matter where he looked, species he’s seen on Earthrealm as well as Outworld. He swears his head almost pops when he spots a tiger resting calmly next to a TaiGore.

Kasiya watches him with a slight tilt of her head, mind racing with different possibilities as to how he was here. There were only a few people who knew how to access this place and she was positive he was not one of them.

“Kung Lao.”

Kasiya’s voice startles him out of his daze, his hand coming to his chest.

“You know me?” It sounded more like a statement than a question but the deity could see he was trying his best to remain calm.

“I know everybody. I also knew your ancestor: The Great Kung Lao.” At that he audibly sputters, taking sudden quick steps towards her. Kasiya’s eyes widen just a fraction but she understands how ludicrous her statement must sound.

“You knew my ancestor? Surely that can’t be right. Why you’re no more than—“

“I assure you I am much older than your mind could possibly fathom.” She replies cooly, putting a hand up in between them and moving it forward to have him back up. He spares a brief glance down then back up, silently obeying.

“Now,” She clears her throat, a puzzled look on her features as she takes in the warrior who is studying her back. Now that his heart has slowed down a bit he allowed himself to really look at this mysterious woman.

Her long dark brown hair in loose waves, decorated with a sort of thin crown on top with a beautiful topaz gem in the middle. It almost perfectly matches with her eyes but he could argue that they were brighter than the jewelry. Kung Lao’s head tilts as he notices more and more details on her face: beauty marks, thick eyebrows, the shape of her nose, her full lips.

“You are still connected to your body.” Her voice snaps him out of it, blinking rapidly and locking eyes with her.

“Huh?”

“I have only seen this a handful of times… Tell me, what were you doing prior to this?” Kasiya starts to circle him, Kung Lao feeling like he is being tested by one of his teachers. There’s a graceful element about her, the way her dark green dress flows as she glides around him, her sparkling eyes zeroed in on his form. His cheeks flush slightly, a hand coming to cup the side of his head as he tries to recall where he was before he ended up… wherever he was.

“I was fighting somebody. Shao Kahn I think— sorry, where am I?” He asks again, stepping a few paces away from Kasiya to create some distance.

“And who are you?” He adds on, the thought of her potentially being dangerous crossing his mind. He straightens his posture, fingers flexing into his palms.

“You are in The Garden of Lotós. This—“ She gestures with one arm to the area, “Is where souls come once they have passed. You, however…” Her head shakes slowly, Kung Lao’s head cocking to the side as he awaits for her to finish speaking.

“Have not. As I said, your soul is still connected to your body. Which means that you must be unconscious somewhere, hanging on for dear life.” She starts to walk away, Kung Lao quickly following in step behind her. He has a million questions running through his mind, all of them overlapping and fighting for which will be asked next.

Kasiya stops in front of a giant flower, shaped like a pitcher with vivid colors and surrounded by small leaves. Her hand swirls in a delicate circle above the center, the water inside whirlpooling as it rises up and forms a shapely bubble in front of them. Inside it shifts, spinning until it forms an image. Kung Lao’s eyes narrow as he leans closer, a hand coming to rest along the edge of the pitcher's opening.

“Please do not stick your hands into my fytó stámnas, it is very rude.” She says calmly, side eyeing Kung Lao who quickly yanks his hands back to his sides.

“Sorry.” He mutters.

“Quite alright, now—“ The image in the bubble becomes more clear and Kung Lao’s eyebrows knit together when he sees himself lying unconscious on the ground, covered in blood and bruises. The memory of fighting Shao Kahn comes flooding back to him, just as powerful as the attack the Emperor had laid upon him before he ended up here.

“By the Elder Gods, that’s me! I don’t understand how this is possible. Please,” He turns towards the deity with a plea in his eyes, nearly reaching out to grasp onto her arm but he holds back.

“Do not worry, I will not keep you here. It is not yet your time, Kung Lao.” She offers him a kind smile, her hands crossed politely in front of her and stepping back from her plant. Kung Lao sighs in relief, this time not stopping himself from reaching out and clasping her hands in his.

“Thank you, truly.” He says. Kasiya does her best to remain calm, feeling the faintest flutter in her heart from the contact. She blames it on the fact that she’s alone for a majority of her time and certainly not on the fact that this one is cute.

“Of course,” Good, her voice is steady. “Now, off you go then.” She retracts her hands from his, smiling again for extra measure and clears her throat.

“Shut your eyes.”

He follows her instructions, closing them and fixing his posture to be more straight. His heart hammers away behind his ribs, his toes wiggling in his shoes as he waits for whatever Kasiya needs to do to send him back.

“Now, think of something that you want. Something that is driving you in your life, that you wish to complete.”

Kung Lao doesn’t even have to think about it, his lips already forming the words.

“I want… to leave a life of peace. No more fighting. Just… peace.”

Kasiya smiles softly and raises her hand up to him, her painted nail gingerly poking into his forehead. His features curl slightly, left eye peeking open just a bit.

“Ah, keep them closed. Unless you wish to get dizzy and vomit when you return.”

“Oh uh, no we don’t want that.” He chuckles a bit sheepishly. He remembers something, parting his lips and he can just feel the way she stares at him.

“You never said your name.” His voice is quiet, the temptation to look at her one last time growing every second.

“Kasiya.”

“‘Kasiya’.” He repeats, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. “Beautiful.”

Her hand falters a bit, a thoughtful expression on her face. She eyes Kung Lao up and down, an odd feeling blooming in her chest. She blinks out of her daze, repositioning her hand in front of him.

“Now, even though you saw your body where you last remember, that might not be the case when you return. Time is different here in the garden, just remember once I send you back.”

“Right okay. Uh, how exactly—?”

“Farewell.” With that, she pushes her finger against Kung Lao’s forehead, sending him falling backwards. He braces himself for impact on the ground but it never happens, air rushing past his ears and then silence. He lies there with his eyes closed, feeling the weight of his body suddenly and every nerve, muscle and bone in excruciating pain.

He opens his eyes, groaning and then going into a coughing fit. He feels like he can't breathe, as if something was sitting on his chest and there was a large object lodged in his throat.

“Careful now! We don’t want you yacking up anymore blood now, do we?”

Kung Lao looks to his right to find an elderly woman sitting there, dabbing a rag into a wash bowl before wiping across his face. Droplets roll down his dirty skin, trailing down his sides and into the bed below him. His gaze flickers to his chest, noticing the off colored gauze wrapped around him.

“How long have I been unconscious?” He asks, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He reaches a hand to touch his head only to be gently smacked away by the woman.

“Three days,” She answers, wringing out the rag into a different bowl and then dunking it back into the water.

“Three—?” He remembers something faint, a voice in the back of his mind tickling his brain.

‘Time is different here in the garden, just remember once I send you back’

“”Time is different…”” He repeats to himself in a murmur, the woman next to him questioning what he just said.

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Something ‘siya’… what’s that?” She stands up and walks away, coming back with a roll of bandages and a jar of ointment.

He tries to think about what she’s referring to, the name ringing familiar in his head. Why couldn’t he remember? He can vaguely recall a figure talking to him, the voice a bit raspy and melodic sounding.

The more he thinks, the more his head throbs but now he can remember that it was a woman and she had the most piercing amber eyes he’s ever seen, even in a dream.

“Best not to try and think about it, might give yourself another concussion.” She chuckles, reaching for his hand and placing one underneath his shoulder. Carefully she helps him sit up, Kung Lao grunting at the ache in his ribs, pain radiating throughout his body.

“Right.”

He thinks to himself that maybe when his head doesn’t feel like it’s being run over by a wagon, he’ll try to remember the woman’s name.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist: @bdfightclub @chadillacboseman @roofgeese