#WAIT DOES THAT HAPPEN IN SEASON 4???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 5 months

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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?”

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.”

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?”

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?”

“I was.”

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?”

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.

It’s just not the right time.

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.”

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.”

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.

All the words around you just as speechless.

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried.

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.

And a little bit of summer rain.

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight.

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next.

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence.

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?

Shit.

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.

Why can’t he fucking move?

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook?

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.”

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?”

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.”

“Nah, come now.”

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out.

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.”

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.”

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.”

“Shit, I know.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Dude, relax, I get it.”

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.”

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous.

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend.

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.

Dumbass: Incoming Call

Of fucking course.

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.”

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.”

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.”

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.

“Everything, Yoong.”

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.

So, so far away.

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.”

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.

“How did that sound?”

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?”

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.”

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.”

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?”

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.”

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in.

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.”

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.”

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to.

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it.

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,

“Do the chorus again.”

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?”

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.”

Done. He said it.

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”

Huh. They’re gonna take that?

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.

“Let’s see how it sounds.”

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else.

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it.

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!”

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies.

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen.

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain.

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later.

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag.

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.”

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.”

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him.

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.”

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.”

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.”

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.

“If there’s something you need to get through...”

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot.

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine.

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister.

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years.

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa.

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What.

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck!

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down.

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that.

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.”

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true.

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?”

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…”

“No?”

Just hurry up and fucking do it.

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...”

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.”

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed.

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.

His ex?

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.”

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem.

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.”

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.”

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly.

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.”

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..”

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,

“I think she feels all alone.”

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.”

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.”

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal…

Unprecedented.

“You’re the best out of all of us.”

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence.

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.”

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s over now.”

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.”

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.”

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.”

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.

Get rid of it? He’s been trying.

For three. Fucking. Months.

“I might.”

“…K.”

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it.

What time is it?

All that greets him is darkness.

Nothing new, but darkness all the same.

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend.

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired.

And the darkness pulls him back under.

Without even telling him the time.

Buzzing.

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages

Chim: 7 Messages

Chim: Missed Calls (3)

Holy fuck.

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.

“Oh, fuck. There you are.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—”

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake.

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?”

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest.

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.”

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.”

“He told you?”

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.”

“Ah.”

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?”

“That it’s done.”

A hum.

“That’s very true.”

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?”

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?”

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.”

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.”

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Knowing the answer.”

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”��

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!”

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.”

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.”

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”

“K. Same time tomorrow?”

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.”

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?”

“Relax! You will like it.”

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up.

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day.

That sounds like fucking bliss.

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today.

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help.

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too.

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.

After all this time. All these days and nights.

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left.

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.

Something that isn’t broken.

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.

What. No way.

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.

Hustler: Incoming Call

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.

“Are we… is this over?”

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?”

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.”

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.”

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.

“Are you? With me?”

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,

“No way in hell, doll.”

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned.

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”

That’s okay.

Because he’s had a day, too.

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.”

Please keep going.

Please don’t leave him alone.

“Talk to me.”

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.

You’re so good at that.

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—”

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is.

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.

“What did he say?”

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.”

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.”

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.”

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.”

“What are you still talking to me for?”

“I miss you.”

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.”

“Why?”

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?”

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.”

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.”

“Ha ha.”

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout?

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.”

“Wait, huh? Why!”

“Nothing.”

“I swear to god—”

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?”

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”

“Kitchen.”

The hell? “How’d you know?”

“You’re always in there.”

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.”

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?”

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.

“The world said let them cook.”

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks.

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.”

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue.

Because of you. It’s always you.

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.”

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night.

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.

Right towards the corner that stares back.

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange.

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you.

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.

This is so hard.

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :)

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio.

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man.

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped.

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.

“Hey.”

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers.

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.”

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.”

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.”

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.”

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.”

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.”

“Do better.”

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.”

“What? Who said anything about dessert?”

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to—

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.”

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.

“Mm, babe. One more thing.”

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.”

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness.

And you want that to be the case forever.

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.”

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”

“Damn!”

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.”

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.”

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again.

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned.

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!”

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.”

“You could’ve asked somebody.”

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…”

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?”

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too.

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.”

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.”

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—”

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.”

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.”

“Just a bite then.”

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.”

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?”

“Everything.”

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.”

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.”

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.”

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.”

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?”

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.

“…Yeah.”

Fuck. “About what?”

“That you’d hate me.”

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.”

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.”

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.”

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..”

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.”

“You do?”

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.”

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers.

“Hmm?”

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.

“Always, doll.”

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.”

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time.

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?”

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever.

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.”

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face.

What is it with him and keys?

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.”

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right?

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours.

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over!

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.”

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here.

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before.

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here.

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there.

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.”

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.”

“Good. You bored?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man.

“Forever might be a stretch.”

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.”

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.”

“It was kinda hot.”

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.”

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.”

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.”

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.”

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.”

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.”

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?”

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.”

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.”

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is.

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet.

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them?

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys?

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here.

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.”

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!”

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start?

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?”

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.”

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!”

Ah, you were right. “I like it.”

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?”

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.”

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.”

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.”

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest.

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long.

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.

All you can do is stare back.

And without even realizing.

You’re already rubbing your arm.

tbc. :((

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics:#*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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can I request one with Spencer Reid based on the season 4 club scene??? He's there with Morgan and stares at the reader and Morgan shows him how to approach her but the reader doesn't fall for Morgan's approach, then Reid gives it a try and she turns into a giggly blushing mess at how cute he is and his weird facts!! Idk something fluffy??

reader is slightly mean to morgan in this one and i'm so sorry to have dissed the love of my life </333

"Don't bother," Morgan catches Spencer's shoulder when the man looks like he's about to give you their 'have you seen this man?' spiel. "I tried to tell her about the unsub, but she's not very impressed by men cornering her in the club. We don't have to worry about her, she won't fall for his bullshit."

"She should know, though." Spencer frowns, watching as you stare lazily at your drink, watching condensation drip down the glass, "I'll tell her."

"Reid, I'm telling you, she's not a potential victim," Morgan squeezes his shoulder, "Listen, if I couldn't get her to talk to me, there's no way the creep we're looking for could win her over. And he's not gonna waste his time on someone who says no to him."

The expression on your face changes from a dark scowl when a man stands a few inches too close to you while ordering a drink, to a soft, disinterested pout when he leaves again and you're able to relax. You don't look resistant, you look hesitant. You don't look like you're refusing to talk to anyone, you look like you're waiting for the right person to talk to you, and Derek Morgan was wrong.

"I'll just be a minute," Spencer slips out from beneath Derek's heavy hand and ignores the agent's groan as he approaches you. He knows Morgan's eyes are heavy on his back while he steps up to your barstool, but he pushes away the pressure of an audience to smile kindly at you.

"Hello," He offers, his voice barely audible over the music. His fingers latch tight around the strap of his messenger bag and the flyer he's holding wrinkles in his firm grip, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, I'm here to warn you about a potential threat."

Maybe it's not the strongest way to start off a conversation with a pretty girl at a bar, but it's the information you need to know. Stuttered flirting and watered-down drinks can come later, if they happen at all; Spencer's priority is your safety.

Your brows raise and you look past Spencer's shoulder hesitantly, "Is it him? He tried trapping me earlier."

Spencer's chest relaxes slightly where it had been tensed, and he lets out a mild laugh, "Well, he's not the main threat I'm worried about. Did he- did he do the thing where he called you sugar?"

"Mm-mm," You shake your head, taking a sip of the sad remains of your drink and speaking after you swallow, "Sweet cheeks."

Even Spencer winces. Where Morgan's strategy is charm first, then the ugly stuff, Spencer thinks it's only fair to let you know why he's there before letting himself get distracted.

"He thinks that's some sort of magic spell," He laments, "Uh- I'm sorry if he made you uncomfortable. Technically, he was just trying to warn you about the same guy I'm warning you about, but we have a very different way of going about business."

"I can tell," You nod, eyes widening slightly for emphasis. Then you glance at the stool beside your own, "Sit down, Doctor. Tell me about this creep. Well- the one on the flyer."

Morgan watches with something ugly rearing in his chest as Spencer takes the seat you've offered him, but he wrestles it down to replace it with pride. Perhaps he'll have to reevaluate his strategy when it comes to disinterested patrons, but as he watches Spencer magically find his business card behind your ear, he's not sure he'll ever have what the young doctor does.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Please, allow me to just drop some werewolf König brain rot here.

You think he’s a human heater now?? Just wait until you meet this one, you will be sweating through the sheets, trying to get out of his grip but it’s not happening, sorry. Metabolism is also through the roof, needs so much food a day like he didn’t already and mating season. 🥵🥵

You cannot keep him off you. Did I mention he has a knot? Well he does, which only serves to keep him in you longer. The likelihood of the bed breaking is high. Please please please convince him to do some prey predator play. His teeth are sharp in his human form and his werewolf could tear a man to shreds with just his teeth, no need for the claws he has. Of course gets bigger when he’s fully transformed. Easily nine feet tall and his height isn’t the only thing that gets bigger 😏😏.

Yes yes yes werewolf König is the best and the worst thing ever because:

1. The bed breaks. On the first thrust.

2. There's dark hair everywhere and everyone keeps asking if you own a dog because it looks and smells like you do O_o

3. Your fridge is always empty :( He's not selfish, he just can't help it! The cheese was right there! And so was the jam, and the ham, and the...

4. Develops an unhealthy addiction to you, gets obsessed with your scent and has to knot you as often as possible

5. Tries to bite your butt or drive his nose between your legs even in human form whenever you pass him by

6. Prefers to take you from behind, and makes so much noise while doing it that you fear the neighbours will someday call the police, the fire department and the ambulance

7. You never quite know if you're his master, his pet, his mate or something else entirely. He's loyal to you, protective of you, he adores you in an unconditional way that reminds you of a dog's love... But he also ruts and knots you like it's the end of the world :/

8. If you're ovulating when he's around... Well. Good luck, I guess.

#könig x reader #werewolf!könig

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munsons-hellfire · 10 days

Text

I Always Knew | Eddie Munson

SUMMARY: You fell in love with Eddie over the years. But you feared that he never felt the same way. When you finally break up with Jason and decided your ready to tell Eddie you love him. Your reality is crashed when you catch someone kissing him. Only it's not her he loves.

PAIRINGS: Eddie Munson x Reader, Jason Carver x Reader (brief mentions)

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, the events of season 4 don't happen (which means Hopper doesn't disappear, no one moves to Cali and reader does know about El and the Upside down), best friends to lovers, both kinda clueless about each others feelings, smut with a plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving), angst, fluff, a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It was so good to get back to Stranger Things. I honestly missed writing for Eddie. I hope you enjoyed this one shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. The smut could be a little better but I don't write it as much so this is how it turned out.

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

You had been friends with Eddie Munson from the moment you moved into the trailer park in Hawkins Indiana. Eddie was the first person𑁋other than your father𑁋that you left into your life after your mother. You and your father had moved back to his hometown of Hawkins just months after your mother passed away. You felt stuck, like your feet had cemented to the ground and you couldn’t move forward anymore.

Then one night when you were out stargazing to feel closer to your mother, you met Eddie Munson. From the moment he came over to talk to you, you knew one day that you’d marry him. As the two of you grew older neither of you could be separated from each other. Wayne and Bill𑁋your father𑁋couldn’t separate you two from each other. They both knew collectively from the moment that you met that one day you and Eddie would end up together.

They were shocked that neither of you had come forward and admitted your feelings for each other. But a small rift formed between your friendship when you started dating Jason Carver. You should’ve known better, but Jason had you locked under his spell and you thought it would be a way to move on from Eddie. Here you stood, Jason standing in front of you talking about the basketball game and how positive that they were going to win tonight.

But your mind constantly found its way back to Eddie, no matter how hard you tried to avoid thinking about him, you couldn’t. You especially couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d feel on top of you. About the way his cock would feel deep inside you. Just thinking about him that way made you wet between your legs.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jason questioned, his eyes trained on you. You were pulled out of your delicious thoughts, staring at your soon to be ex. This was your chance, you’d break up with him and then you’d finally go after Eddie hoping that it wasn’t too late.

“No, I’m not.” You whispered, then you sighed. “I can’t do this anymore Jason.” Your voice was steady as you spoke to him. You watched shock slowly morph into his features.

“What are you saying?” You pulled your eyes away from Jason looking around the hallway seeing a few people staring at you two. Almost like they were waiting for the announcement that you were breaking up with him.

A sigh rips from your throat, “What I’m saying is that I’m breaking up with you.”

A shocked noise left Jason’s mouth. “You can’t break up with me, we’re great together.” Jason said, throwing his hands in the air.

“I can and I am. I’m not meant to be with you, I’m meant to be with someone else.”

With those words you turned away from the basketball player and walked away from him as he called out your name. He didn’t however make a move to stop you. As you started on your journey to find Eddie you were stopped by Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will; all of whom were in Hellfire with Eddie. It was nice of Eddie to take the boys under his wing this year, you loved him a little more seeing the way he treated them. They had needed a good role model other than Steve after everything that had happened over the last few years.

But you could all live a normal life thanks to El defeating the Mind Flayer. You wondered where Max and El were considering that they were all inseparable. You were certain they probably weren’t far, or would be joining them soon enough.

“Is there something I can help you with?” You asked, with a raised brow.

“We heard that you finally broke up with Carver.” Dustin said, his smile taking over his face.

“Wow, that happened not even 5 minutes ago and it spread around quickly.” You pause, keeping your eyes trained on the teens. “I did. Why?” A curious expression appeared on your face as you waited for one of them to answer the question.

“Does this mean that you and Eddie are finally going to get together?” Mike asked. All four of them plus everyone else in your friend group including Steve made it very clear to you and Eddie that you both were perfect for each other. You and Eddie were two pieces to the puzzle that fit perfectly together. Never when you were together though, only if you weren’t around each other.

“You four are something, that’s for sure.” You paused, but allowed a smile to break through and plaster your face. “That being said, I was on my way to find him and talk to him. Any of you happen to know where I might find Eddie? I know I should know but I’ve been distracted as of late.”

Even though you’d asked the question, you knew exactly where Eddie would be. But you wanted to make sure just in case you were wrong. He was in the drama room most likely setting up for tonight’s session for Hellfire.

“Drama room!” They all answered excitedly.

“Great! Thank you!”

With a smile still on your lips you turned again and walked in the direction of the drama room. You were more than ready to admit your feelings to Eddie even if it meant you’d possibly ruin your friendship. You opened the door when you reached the drama room, Eddie was already setting up for tonight’s session which you were excited to see. Eddie looked up from what he was doing and smiled at you. His smile sent a warm feeling through your body.

“Hey, I thought you’d be getting ready for the basketball game.” Eddie said, as he looked back down at what he was setting up.

“Uh, actually, I thought I’d skip out tonight and watch your campaign if that’s okay.” Your voice came out soft as you talked to Eddie. But in reality you just wanted to tell him how much you loved him. How you didn’t want to be apart from him anymore. But nothing would come out, your words were lodged in your throat, they wouldn’t move forward.

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome here.”

You walked over to Eddie and sat down in one of the chairs. One by one the boys started to file into the drama room. El and Max were now with them too. Eventually the campaign started and you kept your eyes on Eddie for the most part. You were memorized by how he explained the storyline and the whole premise of the campaign. Things took a turn for the worst when someone else entered the drama room.

All eyes including yours fell onto her, she was so beautiful. You were nothing compared to her, suddenly you felt so self-conscious. You started to fidget with your fingers as you watched the blond walk up to Eddie, interrupting the session.

“Uh, don’t mind me.” She said softly, then proceeded to give Eddie a kiss to his lips, a quick peck.

But that was enough for you to feel your entire world shatter. She sat down next to him and the campaign continued. Eddie took notice of the way your posture and mood suddenly changed. He thought it was odd but shook it off. As the campaign came to a close and everyone started to pack up, you quickly said your goodbyes to everyone except Eddie and the girl that had missed him. With your back to everyone you let the tears roll down your cheeks.

You weren’t upset that you had broken up with Jason. It was better for you, but you had pushed it off too long and now because of that you were too late to get Eddie, the one you always knew you wanted. Climbing in your car you turned it on and drove out of the school parking lot as fast as you could before Eddie had a chance to catch up to you. When you made it home you climbed out of your car and headed towards your trailer. Your dad was outside, a soft warm smile on his face.

“Hi, darling. How was the basketball game?” He asked, curiously.

“I didn’t go. I broke up with Jason because I realized that I’m in love with Eddie. But now I can’t have him because he’s dating someone else.”

You walked up the steps as you answered your father. The door closed behind you as you stepped into the trailer and headed straight for your room. Bill could hear the sadness in your voice. It broke his heart to see you like this. Once you were inside your room you locked the door, collapsed on your bed and let the rest of the tears out.

☾

Days had passed since you broke up with Jason, you’d also managed to avoid Eddie as well. It even included not going to school for those few days. Each day Eddie stopped by your home after school to talk to you, but you weren’t in the right space to talk to him. Your father would send him away saying that you hadn’t been feeling well. But your dad wasn’t home right now and Eddie needed to see you.

He needed to understand why you wouldn’t talk to him. You were curled into your side, your blanket was wrapped around your entire body and you had a horror movie on. You’d normally watch them with Eddie, but you had it on more so for background noise. The sound was up just enough for you to not hear Eddie enter your trailer.

Your eyes were closed and your cheeks were wet with tears. No matter how hard you had tried to stop crying you just couldn’t stop. It hurt too much. Eddie came up to your cracked door and knocked on it softly.

“It’s me, princess.” Eddie called out, voice soft and sweet as you remembered.

“Go away.”

Your voice was hoarse and low. You gripped your blanket tighter. Eddie ignored you, opening the bedroom door and walking in. He closed it behind him, then Eddie pulled his shoes off and climbed into your bed. You felt the dip of your bed and tried to move away. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

You were desperate to get away from him. The position that you were currently in wasn’t working for either of you. So Eddie lifted you up and turned your body so your back was on your bed. The metalhead pushed himself in between your legs, and you felt yourself stop breathing for a brief moment. Eddie held your hands above your head, suddenly everything was different.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Eddie questioned, a stern look on his face. You looked up at him finally, his brown eyes staring back at you. But there was something different, his eyes were covered in lust.

“I’m not ignoring you. Let go of me Eddie.” You mumbled looking away from him. Eddie removed a hand from your hands, he reached out and grabbed a hold of your jaw turning it back so he could see your eyes.

“Yes. You. Are.” He paused, eyes skimming down your body before moving back up and resting on your eyes. “I want to know why.”

“Because.” You spoke, your bottom lip trembling as you fought back to hold the tears in. You didn’t need to cry in front of him, not like this.

“Because why?” Eddie pressed.

“I broke up with Jason, because I…” You paused, it was now or never.

“You what?” Eddie let go of your hands and pulled away from your body, he leaned down on his knees but continued to stare at you. You suddenly missed his warmth.

“I broke up with him, I couldn’t bear the thought of being with someone who I didn’t love. Not when the person I love is you. And I wanted to tell you, I did, really. But the words got stuck in my throat and then she came in and kissed you and I knew… I knew that I had missed my time.” You pulled yourself up and moved back towards your headboard, then proceeded to wrap your arms around your legs when you pulled them to your chest.

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?” Eddie asked as he paused, running a hand down his face. “Look, she was nothing. I told her she could come watch the campaign session, but I swear I hadn’t planned for her to kiss me, okay. That was the last thing I wanted to happen.” Eddie adjusted himself, coming up next to you and wrapping an arm around you. “I always knew, you know. I always knew that I loved you, and deep down I think I always knew that you loved me too. But I didn’t want to ruin what we had over my feelings. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

“Oh, Ed.” You stared up at him, his brown eyes glazing over you. Before you could stop yourself you had your lips on Eddie’s and were kissing him with all the passion you had inside you. When you finally pull back from the heated kiss, you just stare at him. “You could never lose me.”

Eddie closed the space between you, his lips found purchase on yours again. His ringed fingers tangled into your hair, palms resting gently against your cheeks as he continued to kiss you. Eddie helped lower you down on the bed, until he was back between your legs. Your hands tangled into his long brown curly locks as he removed his lips from yours and placed them on your neck. He smirked when a soft moan escaped your lips.

The moan encouraged him to suck your skin in between his lips while his hand wandered down your chest. Finally his hand rested on your breasts, squeezing one before moving to the other. He could feel your nipples grow taut after he touched them. Eddie let off of your skin, pulling back from your body slightly. He looked down at your net to see a bruise forming where he had pulled at the skin. His smirk grew bigger as he stared down at your already blissed out face.

“Is this real?” You asked softly.

“It’s real, baby. Lean up.” Eddie said. You listened to his order and leaned yourself up from the bed slightly. “Good girl.” The words were smooth when they left his mouth, you felt yourself clenching your thighs together as Eddie leaned closer and reached for the bottom of your shirt. He grasped the shirt and started to lift it up your body.

Once the shirt was removed from your body you were left in only your bra, and shorts. Your hair fell back down landing on your chest. He threw your shirt onto the floor then reached forward again. His hands rested on your waist and slid up your back. His fingers unclasped your bra and pulled it off your shoulders. Finally he threw it to the floor and gently pushed you back down towards the mattress.

Eddie leaned down and placed kisses on your chest, slowly moving down. You gasped quietly when Eddie took a nipple into his mouth and started to flick his tongue around it. You closed your eyes, happy with just feeling him on you. Eddie pulled his lips from your nipple and moved to the other repeating the same thing. With his free hand he pinched your other nipple between his index finger and thumb.

Another moan slipped past your lips. He smirked at you, pulling away from your breasts and moving down your body. Eddie left a trail of kisses down your stomach until he reached your pussy. Eddie placed his lips on each thigh, avoiding the one spot you needed him most right now.

“Eddie.” You moaned out, lust filled eyes on him. He looked amazingly handsome between your thighs and you couldn’t help the smile that managed to cover your face. “Please.” You added, your voice barely above a whisper.

“So needy, princess.” Eddie whispered, his hot breath hitting your pussy.

He stuck his tongue out in front of your already wet cunt, then you felt his tongue on you. He licked a strip, moving from the bottom all the way to your clit. He sucked your clit into his mouth liking side to side. Gently he lifted a finger to your entrance and pushed a finger in. You tightened around his finger, a groan left Eddie’s lips causing a shutter to run through your body.

The slurping sound from his tongue ran through your ears, another moan left your lips when Eddie added another finger and curled them inside you hitting that sweet spot. You felt your orgasm inching closer with each lick of his tongue on your clit. You threw your head back, hitting your pillows. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth gaped open, your orgasm was so close.

“Eddie, please.” You moaned.

Eddie tugs at your clit, and curls his fingers inside again. When Eddie did that you felt yourself tighten around his fingers. Then he started to pick his pace up, pulling his fingers out only to shove them back inside of you.

“That’s it princess, cum on my fingers.” He whispered.

He stuck his tongue out again softly licking your clit. You shuttered, as you came on his fingers. Your moans echoed around the room as the remnants of your orgasm hit you. Eddie rested his head on your thigh, pulling his fingers from your entrance. You watched with blissed out eyes as he sucked your juices off his digits.

“You taste so divine, princess.” A smile fell onto your lips. Eddie pulls himself away from you, he climbs off the bed and proceeds to remove his clothes one by one. Eddie tugs his boxers off, his cock springs free hitting his stomach, pre-cum drips from the tip. He climbs back onto the bed and hoovers over top of you.

You pull your hand to your mouth and spit on it. Then you reach out and grab a hold of his cock and begin to stroke it. A moan leaves his lips at the feeling of your hand on him. He rests his head against yours. He pushes your hand off his cock and grips it, then you feel him tapping his cock against your clit. A strangled moan leaves your swollen lips.

Eddie smirks, he pulls back, placing his cock at your entrance. You watch as he pushes his cock inside of you. Eddie moans as you grip him tightly. Another moan leaves you, Eddie pushes all the way inside and settles there allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, I’ve waited so long to feel this close to you.” Eddie whispered.

“Please move.” You stared up at Eddie’s brown eyes. You’d waited long enough too and you needed him to move. He could see the pleading look that covered your face. Eddie pulled back just until the tip of his cock was the only thing that remained inside you. Then he pushed forward slamming back into you. Both of you moaned out in pleasure.

You could feel yourself tighten around Eddie’s cock as he continued the pace he was going. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the bedroom. Another moan fell from your lips, Eddie leaned forward and kissed them swallowing your moan. Eddie moves his fingers down to your clit and starts circling the bud. He pulls another moan from your lips, it echoes in the room when he pulls away to kiss your neck.

Your orgasm was getting closer. Eddie’s hips slammed into yours. Continuous moans left both your mouths as both of you inched closer towards your impending orgasm. Eddie could feel you getting closer. A smile brightened on his face. You placed a hand down on your bed and gripped the sheets tightly, arching your back.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You moaned.

“Are you close?” He whispered breathlessly.

“So close.” You mumbled. Eddie kept his finger on your clit rubbing in fast tight circles. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

“You gonna cum all over my cock, princess?” You could only nod your head, words weren’t forming on your tongue. “I want to feel you cum.”

“Eddie.” Another whimpered moan left your lips after breathing his name. He felt his orgasm getting closer, but he wanted to feel you cum around his cock first.

“Cum on my cock.”

You obeyed Eddie, a moan falling from your lips. Eddie felt you squeezing him, he went to pull out, however you gripped onto his arms.

“No. Inside.” The words left your mouth and you watched through dazed eyes as Eddie complied and kept himself inside you. He slammed his hips into you a final time cum releasing inside you. Eddie slowed his rhythm down more until his hips stilled. He stared down at you with bright brown eyes. Lust filled eyes, but still bright.

Slowly Eddie removed himself from you, pulling back and climbing off the bed. You stared up at the ceiling, no thoughts in your mind just the blissful aftermath of your post orgasm. When Eddie returned you gasped feeling something could touch your cunt.

“Just cleaning you up, princess.” Eddie threw the cloth in your close basket. He climbed back into the bed and pulled you onto his chest.

“So, what does this mean now?” You asked, finally breaking the silence after the two of you had settled down into the bed.

“It means your mine.” Eddie whispered, placing a soft kiss on your head.

You tilted your head towards him with a smile so bright Eddie always wanted to see it. “I think I can live with that.” You leaned up to him and kissed his lips passionately.

“Good.” You laid your head down on his chest and fell asleep, at some point he had pulled his boxers on and his shirt. And you had your shirt and underwear back on. Finally he fell asleep holding you. An hour later your dad came in calling for you, when he opened the door he stared at you resting in Eddie’s arms. They were wrapped around your waist tightly.

“It’s about damn time.” He whispered, closing the door and walking back down the hallway.

#reader insert #x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers #jason carver

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mylittleredgirl · 1 month

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i know some of you have been pressing your faces to the glass waiting for me to see this one in particular SO i saw "the nurses" the other night and am still thinking about it!!

i love love love it when characters get pushed to a point where you can almost see their childhood selves pop out, like are they even talking about what's happening right now? or are their 12-year-old hearts just screaming?? i love that margaret's outburst is both irrational (the hostile work environment is coming from inside the house; i was yelling at my tv "baby it's your fault!!!") and so so honest.

[this turned into a bit of a character thesis, so not only is there a readmore, there will also be a reblog soon with the rest of the post because i maxed out the image limit] [edit: part ii now in the reblogs!]

this whole time, margaret has treated her subordinates with a heavy hand because she thinks it's the right and fair thing to do. the rules say this is how it works!

she maintains a high standard of excellence in brutal circumstances, but she's also reactive, moody, and unforgiving. she's often shown on the edge of losing control and authority, she inflames situations by overreacting, and the thing she punishes most egregiously is disrespect (toward frank, toward the army, toward herself). she intentionally underlines the distance between herself and the other nurses at every turn.

from season 3 "there's nothing like a nurse": [all IDs in alt]

really, everything she thinks and does comes from a place of "they're not supposed to like me," but the childish part of her that is completely unable to see her own behavior is confused and hurt because "i'm just doing my job so why don’t they like me???"

it's her job to maintain discipline, but especially here in 4077-land, she doesn't have to lead with the whip. henry was beloved because he was an overly permissive clown, which will never be her speed, but colonel potter has all the same training as she does. he's loved and respected as the Good Regular Army Guy because he leads with discernment and mutual respect.

it's easier for him. he's more experienced, he's respected and supported from above and below, and he has a calm temperament — which isn't nothing.

from season 4 "the interview":

whether she's aware of this as a problem or not, we at home can see how margaret's inability to control her emotional reactivity causes her as much grief as her inability to control other people.

if she were capable of laughing off small slights, hawkeye and trapper wouldn't have used her as a chew toy so much, and henry might have taken her real concerns more seriously if they weren't lost in the noise of daily fits, you know? she rarely started it, so i'm not blaming her for the hostile chaos circus of seasons 1-3, but i am saying she would have had a better time if she knew how to take a few deep breaths.

this description from the script, after the near-brawl in the nurses' tent in act one, is basically her character thesis statement:

and here, when she's reacting fully emotionally, the truth comes out! the reason that she won't be flexible and show compassion to the nurses isn't because of the rules, but because they're mean to her!!

that's obviously a very bad place to lead from. she has enormous institutional power over them, including controlling their freedom of movement, but she feels like all the other girls in school are hanging out together and they hate her. because they are! and they do! the fight in act one boils over when they make fun of her hair, and that sent all of them back to middle school.

and in many ways, that's where margaret's emotional maturity is stuck (which is, i think, why i find her so endearing). she can't see herself. she knows they don't like her, trust her, or want her around, but she doesn't understand how she dug this hole herself, or how to get out of it.

to add insult to jealous injury, one of the nurses (mary jo, who gets between margaret and baker to stop the fight and takes care of the others in different ways) is margaret's age, and the others look to her as their chosen leader and personal support.

and i'm sure margaret had NO IDEA this was the messy truth until she heard it come out of her mouth.

and her emotionally breaking on the "one lousy cup of coffee" in particular…

i wonder, how often does some version of that first tent scene happen? does she deliver their assignments every night? she walks in already defensive, they immediately stop laughing, and then... she either finds a reason to scold them or they ice her out until she leaves. (and they probably start laughing again as soon as she does!)

from her perspective, when she arrived for the dreaded sleepover and they turned out the lights the minute she walked in, it's like they cancelled the nightly coffee klatch just to avoid spending one social minute with her.

i also think the nurses are right when they assumed that she wouldn't have accepted an invitation to hang out with them (and might even have snapped at them for being inappropriate for asking). she doesn't cross that emotional line, even when she should — she didn't know gaynor was spiraling after losing so many patients in a row, and didn't respond compassionately when she learned.

has she ever invited them for coffee or a friendly chat? no.

...... but her circumstances have recently changed.

[reblog with the rest of it is here!]

#margaret houlihan #mash #mashblogging #margaret is a holy hot mess and i love her sooooo much

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tyonfs · 2 years

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netflix and chill

❝ you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, and i was starting to think you weren’t gonna get around to the chill part of netflix and chill. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee jeno x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, smut, couch sex, wall sex, shower sex, fingering, dry humping, lots of teasing!! and some degradation and praise, oral (fem. receiving), choking, size kink, bulge kink, hyuck is insufferable, i’m sorry this is pure filth, despite the warnings there are fluffy moments

SUMMARY ▸ lee jeno doesn’t want to give up the carefree life of a single man, not tied down by emotional entanglements and commitments. that is, until he sees you smacking a man twice your size with a stack of engineering paper. he kind of falls in love, so jeno does what any normal person does and invites you over to netflix and chill.

PLAYLIST ▸ long way 2 go by cassie • sour grapes by le sserafim • foreshadow by enhypen • lucid dream by aespa

WORD COUNT ▸ 10,087 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello hello! i went awol for a tiny bit but im back and i really hope you guys enjoy this !! shoutout to the ice cream sandwich that kept me awake to finish this. second installment of the bitch hunters series ♡

THE FIRST TIME LEE JENO FELT THE WORLD SHIFT OFF ITS AXIS WAS WHEN HE SAW YOU KNOCKING THE DAYLIGHTS OUT OF A MAN TWICE YOUR SIZE.

Na Jaemin and Lee Donghyuck, his housemates, were still bickering behind Jeno about a pact they had made in the beginning of the year. It was a tradition the residents of the Bitch Hunters household carried out, in which they would get a girlfriend in their fourth year of college. Since their other housemate, Huang Renjun, had already accomplished a successful bitch hunting season, Jaemin and Donghyuck were arguing who would get a girlfriend between the two of them.

Jeno honestly didn’t care when it happened; he just knew he was ready for a relationship, but he was planning on waiting for the perfect girl to come along.

Jeno had flings here and there. He hooked up with Kim Minjeong for a long time before she got a boyfriend. He was a great guy and Jeno truly was happy for them, but he felt a strange feeling in his chest when he realized she was tied down.

No, it wasn’t jealousy in any sense. Jeno was on good terms with Minjeong, but he didn’t like her to the point of wanting to be in a relationship. The reason he felt so strange was because he felt left behind. Once Minjeong picked herself up and found someone that made her happy, Jeno felt like he was stuck in a rut.

That, or he just felt embarrassed to be lumped with Donghyuck and Jaemin.

It was when Jeno started dreading his 4 P.M. Structural Design class that he started to think about how laughable his situation was. He was an architectural engineering major who could outline the process for laying down the foundation for a building, but he couldn’t set the foundations of a relationship within himself.

That was when he heard the commotion.

“Cut it out already!” the person yelled. “I don’t want anything to do with you after what you pulled last night.”

“Y/N, please,” the man who looked about twice your size begged. “Can we just talk in private?”

“I already told you, I don’t wanna see your face again.”

It was rare for Jeno to get involved in other people’s problems, but you two were arguing in the middle of campus and Jeno was a little scared for you. For starters, the man was taller than Jeno himself, and he kept getting closer to you despite your protests. It always angered him when he saw situations like these unravel; some people just didn’t know how to respect boundaries.

“Whoa.” Donghyuck placed a hand on Jeno’s shoulder after he had stopped in his tracks. “What are you gonna do? Punch him?”

“Let’s get going, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged his housemate. “Causing a scene in front of everyone might make this worse.”

Jeno was a careful man. He paid his bills on time, stuck to a strict routine to make sure he completed everything by the end of the day, and abided by the rules as often as he needed to. Violence was definitely not in Lee Jeno’s book, and this was mostly because he promised his mother that he wouldn’t get into trouble. So, nope, he was not going to get involved.

“Just please don’t tell my girlfriend.”

There was one thing that Jeno would never tolerate, and that was cheating.

Whatever snapped in him had clouded his brain completely. Before he knew it, he was charging over to the guy with his hand balled in a fist, raising behind him to swing.

The sharp sound that followed the blow made the courtyard go silent. For a moment, Jeno couldn’t even figure out what had happened. His knuckles weren’t stinging at all, and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to land a blow on the man.

“Holy shit,” Jeno whispered when he realized the man had been knocked down by none other than you.

You were holding your thick stack of engineering paper in both hands, brows knitted in frustration as you realized what you had just done. You finally made eye contact with Jeno. He wasn’t sure if his heart was racing because he was absolutely terrified of you, or if he had just fallen in love with you. Both were plausible, and that confused Jeno even more.

The man grunted and started to get up. “Hey—”

This could turn ugly fast, and Jeno had already inserted himself into the situation by approaching you. Before anyone could react, he grabbed one of your hands and started sprinting in the direction of the architecture building.

(He was going to get an earful about this from Donghyuck and Jaemin later, which he was not prepared for.)

When Jeno decided that the coast was clear and it was safe for you two to stop running, he jogged to a halt and let go of your hand. His chest was heaving from exerting himself suddenly, and he felt a little bad when you had to double over to catch your breath.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, hands placed firmly on your knees, “but… who are you?”

“Um, Jeno,” he introduced. “Lee Jeno.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said, managing a smile while looking like you were about to go limp. “How’d you know I needed to go to the arch building?”

“Oh…” Jeno glanced over his shoulder. “Actually, I just wanted to get us out of that weird situation. I just ended up running to wherever my next class was.” He paused for a second before asking, “You an arch student, too?”

“I’m materials engineering, but I’m trying to switch,” you explained. “Anyway, thanks for getting me out of there. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I just kept standing there.”

Jeno laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t need to do anything. It looks like you can handle yourself just fine.”

You had a curious look dancing in your eyes, like you wanted to say something more, but you held off. Instead, you asked, “What class are you going to, by the way?”

“Structural Design,” Jeno answered with a scoff. “I don’t think you’re gonna experience the thrill of columns and beams anywhere else.”

“No way. I’m trying to crash that class.”

“Willingly?”

You giggled. “If I wanna switch—yeah,” you said matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me get in, would you?”

Jeno pondered on this for a second. This was the perfect opportunity to get to know you, a complete stranger, a lot better. He was already seeing possibilities of something coming out of this, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I mean, I do know the professor pretty well,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin, “so I guess I could put in a good word.”

This seemed to brighten your spirits, which was a stark contrast to the gloomy expression you wore earlier. Jeno exchanged some small talk with you, getting to learn that you were a year younger and were currently going through a quarter life crisis because you felt like you were switching majors too late. Jeno managed to reassure you that it was fairly normal to switch, especially when you already had engineering classes completed to stay ahead.

When you both got to the lecture hall, Jeno was surprised that you stuck by his side. He half-expected you to ditch him for a friend you ran into. And although you did run into a friend, you still sat next to Jeno.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel proud about that.

Actually, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling at all, but two things were running through Jeno’s head: you were very pretty, and you were probably going to be the death of him.

Later that night, Jeno realized that he had to prepare for war at the dinner table.

“And you know what Lover Boy did after that?” Jaemin jested. “He ran with the girl! Dude thought this was his K-drama moment.”

Sometimes, he found meals with his housemates to be insufferable.

Donghyuck and Jaemin were currently giving Renjun the rundown of what had happened. Jeno, on the other hand, had never wanted to die so bad. Maybe it was some sort of curse, but there seemed to be a pattern of bully victims in the households being the men who were interested in a girl.

“I won’t lie,” Renjun started, turning to look at Jeno, “I got secondhand embarrassment listening to that.”

“Thanks Renjun,” Jeno replied flatly.

“Did you ever find out what happened between her and that dude?” Donghyuck asked.

Jeno recalled their conversation after class was over. He had mentioned the topic very vaguely, and then you went off on a tangent about how the guy was hitting on you at a party, and then you found out he had a girlfriend as he was practically begging you for sex. Thankfully, nothing had happened, but you were very unsettled that he was shamelessly cheating on his girlfriend.

When Jeno asked if you were going to tell his girlfriend, a coy smile spread across your lips before you showed him the text messages you sent her.

“Just some idiot trying to keep her quiet after he was trying to get in her pants,” Jeno replied, disgusted, “and he has a girlfriend.”

“Some people are just grown adults with the brains of a child,” Renjun muttered, shaking his head. Once the slightly uncomfortable silence settled—one that Jeno assumed was out of respect for your unfortunate situation—Renjun cleared his throat and asked, “So, is she nice?”

“Nice?” Jeno frowned. “Well, from what I noticed—yeah.”

“Renjun just wants to know if you’d cuff her,” Jaemin clarified, looking down as if he was more invested in his Chipotle bowl than his housemate’s love life.

“That’s not what I meant!” Renjun protested, but then he turned to Jeno again. “But, uh… would you?”

It wasn’t like Jeno hadn’t thought about that question eventually coming up, but he had just met you and wasn’t keen on answering right away. While you seemed sweet, there was still a lot that Jeno didn’t know about you. He was never the type to rush into relationships, which is why his situationships in the past never worked out; they always got tired of waiting for Jeno to make a move.

That was probably something he should be working on.

“I’m happy being single,” he answered, “and I like our little bachelor pact, save for Renjun.”

“Gee, thanks,” Renjun muttered.

“You should invite her out with us,” Donghyuck replied, and Jeno knew that was just his way of saying he was going to tease them ruthlessly.

He chewed on his salad, thoughtful. “I think I’ll hang out with her one-on-one first.”

Lee Jeno was a man of his word, so when you showed up to Structural Design a week later, you had been successfully enrolled in the class.

You slid in the empty seat next to Jeno with a grin. “I owe you big time.”

If this was some formality, Jeno felt worse and worse by your actions. He appreciated your kindness, but he wasn’t ready to break the news that he might have accidentally left out. He felt like Adam in Michaelangelo’s The Creation of Adam, except God wasn’t reaching toward Jeno to breathe life into him; Jeno was desperately trying to get the higher power to pull him out of this horrifying situation.

Perhaps you were starting to notice, too, based on how the atmosphere in the classroom shifted from its normal lecture days. It was almost obvious with how students were either buried in their notes or frantically flipping through their textbooks.

“I wouldn’t say big time,” Jeno mumbled. He sheepishly grinned before muttering, “I might have forgotten to tell you that we have a midterm today.”

Your face went a little slack.

“What?!”

You looked around you in a panic before slumping back in your seat, both hands covering your face. Jeno wasn’t sure what expression you were wearing behind them, but it couldn’t have been good.

“I’m sorry!” he apologized quickly. “Honest to God—it totally slipped my mind.”

“I’m done for,” you replied, sorrowful. “First official day in this class, and I’m gonna fail.”

Jeno balked. He had shattered any chances of a friendship with you. This would probably be the last time you ever sat next to him again. He tossed around the idea of letting you cheat off him, but Jeno played by the rules; he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he got caught helping someone cheat.

He ended up not being able to say anything to you. Despite how many times he ran through different dialogues in his head, none of them sounded good enough to ease your worries. There was no shortcut to redemption from here, so Jeno was doomed—a little dramatic, too, but mostly just doomed.

He attentively listened as the professor spoke briefly before passing out the exam, trying to ignore the distress that was just emanating from you. He kept his eyes down as he passed you the other exam packet he got, physically swallowing down the guilt that was eating at him. Jeno knew deep down that it wasn’t even that big of a deal, but he felt horrible for potentially ruining your chances of switching into the class.

“Oh, Y/N,” the professor began, grabbing the paper that was in front of you, “since you joined pretty late, I don’t think you’ll be ready for the midterm. I’ll excuse you from this exam, and you can just complete the assignments you’ve missed.”

“Thank you so much,” you gushed. “That’s such a relief to hear.”

Girls were scary, Jeno decided.

One minute you were glaring daggers at him, and then the next you were buzzing with joy. When Jeno shot you a wary look, testing the waters before he could smile, you just smirked back at him and caused him to malfunction. With that, you made your exit, leaving Jeno at a crossroads, not knowing whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Focus, Jeno. Focus on structures and beams.

“I want to remind everyone to show their work on their paper,” the professor reminded, “and, yes, Heeseung, for that last question I do want you all to find the derivation of the equations for the determination of internal forces in the three-hinged arch.”

Piece of cake. Jeno had spent all night studying the stress distribution across beams and the design of its flexural reinforcements, so he was—

Hold on.

After fully processing the words that came out of his professor’s mouth, Jeno was mortified. The sinking feeling in his chest had capsized and fallen into a pit in his stomach.

He studied the wrong chapter.

Jeno was walking out of the lecture hall with sagged shoulders when he heard your voice ring from beside him, “Why the long face?”

He was startled for a moment, wondering why you were even there. He had taken an hour and a half to go over the exam thoroughly before giving up and turning it in, so that was far too much time for you to wait around. Part of him was rather fond at the thought of you waiting around for him, though.

“Probably failed that test,” Jeno replied, as if he was completely unfazed by your presence. “That midterm was not about structures and beams.”

“That’s tough.”

Jeno had to keep himself from glaring at you, but he supposed he was failing by the way you shrank back at his eyes narrowing. “You got it lucky.”

“I just switched in!” you defended.

“Well—yeah, I guess…” Jeno mumbled. He was stuck between wanting to act childish and wanting to numb himself from the pain of failing his test. So, he offered, “Wanna get away for a bit with me?”

“You have class at noon.”

“After that, I mean.”

You blinked at him before responding, “I’m down. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to hang out because we don’t know each other that well. Might as well get comfy if we’re gonna be classmates, you know?”

Jeno grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“By the way,” you started, “if you had my number, you could’ve just texted me about the midterm.”

“But I don’t—”

“So”—you paused and pulled out a Sharpie from your bag, uncapping it to scribble down your number on Jeno’s hand—“I’ll just give it to you.”

Jeno smiled down at you as you held his hand carefully, writing your number down all the way across his palm. The way your tongue stuck out while you were concentrating was absolutely adorable. Maybe it was him feeling absolutely defeated after that exam or maybe it was the way Jeno could smell the lingering Cocoa Butter Kiss Body Splash coming from you, but he was overtaken by the urge to indulge himself.

Come to think of it, Jeno hadn’t even figured out where he wanted to take you when he proposed it earlier. He had just been speaking his unfiltered thoughts without processing them.

So, like a fool, Jeno blurted out, “Are you down to Netflix and chill?”

You agreed.

It was surprising. Jeno was actually waiting for you to shoot him down. He hadn’t expected you to look up at him with those innocent eyes and nod so cheerfully. For a moment, he was wondering if you had misinterpreted his words, but then you were asking where his house was, so Jeno assumed you had some understanding of the implication.

He made sure that his housemates were away, so he offered up his house. You seemed more than willing to go over even when Jeno informed you that you two would be alone.

He didn’t expect you to take it so literally.

He was baffled that he had actually spent the past four hours watching Shokugeki no Soma with you. Maybe it was the fact that you two were watching a slice of life anime that made it hard to set the mood, but Jeno assumed you got the hint that “Netflix and chill” had a sexual undertone. He wasn’t going to make you uncomfortable by making a move, though, so Jeno sat back and resented how the anime characters were seeing more clothes coming off than he was.

You weren’t supposed to actually chill; you were supposed to jump his bones and show him the light.

On the bright side, Jeno felt better knowing that his housemates weren’t home while you were over. There was a high possibility that Donghyuck would somehow ruin this date or make Jeno feel like he wanted to die. He could almost hear the echoes of his friends laughing at him, and Jeno was certain the lack of action he was getting was making him go crazy.

“They always drop their pants over food,” you commented, snickering at the show of several garments flying off on the screen.

“Makes it hard to believe this is just a slice of life anime,” Jeno replied, and he was a touch bitter that he didn’t use his turn in the conversation for a pickup line instead. “Do you usually watch this genre?”

“Yeah, sometimes. This show’s really popular, though, so I’m excited to watch the rest with my friend.”

Huh? You were supposed to watch it with him.

Maybe this really was supposed to be completely platonic. Jeno was starting to suspect he got the mood wrong earlier and you took his invitation as something friendly. The worst situation was unfolding in front of him right now, and Jeno didn’t know how to salvage it.

Jeno was being stupid. He barely knew you to begin with. How could he expect such a commitment from you?

He raised a brow. “Oh? Do you usually watch with other people then?”

“Not really,” you answered. “I just knew we would be too preoccupied to finish it.”

“Preoccupied? With what?”

Jeno’s mouth went dry when your hand slid onto his knee, and his head started spinning when you dragged your nail up to his thigh. He was finding it hard to figure out what to focus on when you started leaning in closer, too. Your proximity was intoxicating, your touch was driving him crazy, and he couldn’t even breathe properly when you were giving him the bedroom eyes.

“What do you think, Jeno?” you asked with a little giggle. “You’ve been eye-fucking me all night, and I was starting to think you weren’t gonna get around to the chill part of Netflix and chill.”

Holy fuck. Jeno must have saved a kingdom in his past life.

Part of him was amazed that you took four whole hours to make a move on him, but he had no room to complain when he had been holding back the entire time. The other half of him, though, was just itching to tear off your clothes and fuck you into the couch. Jeno wasn’t sure if you liked it rough, and he didn’t want to test the waters after seeing you knock the daylights out of a six-foot-two man.

Plus, he wanted to be gentle with you (for the first time, at least). Although his carnal instincts urged him otherwise, he wanted to treat you like a princess.

“Jeno,” you repeated, hooking your leg around his waist and sliding onto his lap. Jeno was taken aback when you straddled him, immediately moving his hands to grab your waist. You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you, whispering in his ear, “Make it up to me and fuck my brains out.”

Scratch being gentle.

It appeared that you weren’t as soft and pliable as he had thought.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” Jeno growled before grabbing the back of your neck and pressing his lips to yours. He was delighted by your muffled whimper, feeling more encouraged when you tugged his hair. Jeno slid his tongue past your lips, coaxing you to deepen the kiss further. He pulled away a little to murmur against your lips, “Want me to go slow?”

You shook your head, shuddering at the close proximity and your hot breaths fanning against each other. “I don’t wanna go slow,” you whispered.

Although you were so insistent on Jeno being rough with you, he was still gentle when he replied, “Whatever pace you want.” He brushed your loose hair out of your face. The eager look on your face just made him want to tease you. “You sure you can take it?”

You nodded once more, and Jeno grabbed ahold of your hips, rocking them slowly against his. You started to match his rhythm perfectly, whining with each roll of your hips that caused your cunt to rub against his growing bulge. He paused for a moment as he tugged your shorts down, making you lift your hips so he could remove them. There was a timbre in Jeno’s voice when he told you he was going to go harder, and all you could do was grab onto the front of his shirt and beg for more. In a twisted way, he liked having you so helpless on his lap.

Jeno’s lips met yours once more in a fit of passion, tongue sliding against yours as his fingers dug into your waist. He switched positions, flipping you over so that your back was on the couch and he was hovering over you.

The moment Jeno dragged his fingers from your hips to the front of your underwear, he noticed you squirming instantly. The sight made his lips curl into a smirk, not halting his slow, torturous motions with his fingers. Barely grazing his hands against your cunt, and Jeno already had you whining for him.

“Feels good,” you breathed out. Jeno could tell you were playing it up just to get more, and he had to appreciate the effort you were putting in. “Jeno, please…” you trailed off, hands reaching down to slowly trace the veins on his hand.

“Hm? You like my fingers?” he asked, feigning sympathy.

His voice was honey in your ears, and you were melting at the very words. Jeno was startled when you nodded, pulling his hand up so that you could suck on his fingers—so that you could show him how badly you wanted him. He stared at your lips wrapped around his digits in complete awe. Your tongue moving around his fingers was making him go crazy; it burned like a fire, like a sin. It completely doused Jeno’s fiery confidence, leaving him gawking at you.

You took the lead this time, pressing your lips to Jeno’s swiftly. What started chaste and gentle soon turned languid and hot, with Jeno chasing the taste of your tongue each time.

There was something he felt when he made out with girls in the past. It was this hazy, clouded daze in his head, like he couldn’t think straight. This time, however, Jeno had never been so alert and clear-headed. Sure, his thoughts were mainly composed of tearing your clothes off, but he was so grounded in the moment, wanting it to last for as long as it could.

When Jeno pulled away, you were both staring at each other with blown-out pupils and swollen lips. Jeno was praying his flushed cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

He liked your pretty lips far too much to rush things, but he agreed he would be rough. Jeno was, at his core, a man of his word.

“I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”

“Huh?”

While you were staring at him with wide eyes, Jeno shifted off the couch to scoop you up, holding you steady by your thighs. You were clearly shocked by his strength, yelping initially before wrapping your arms and legs around him. Jeno appreciated how adaptable you were when you started stringing kisses from the corner of his lip to his jaw.

He had your back up against the wall, and his own body was pressed flush against yours.

The bed was no longer an option. Jeno was too drunk on your taste to think about moving all the way to his room, and he didn’t even care if Jaemin were to walk inside right now. (Maybe he would feel some shame if it were Donghyuck or Renjun, though; he knew he would never hear the end of it from those two.)

Clothes were taken off, strewn aside, and Jeno couldn’t help but smirk as he circled the pad of his thumb around your bare nipple, admiring how beautiful you looked when you were fully nude. You helped Jeno with taking off his own clothes, as well, and he grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose.

Although Jeno had reiterated several times that he would go rough, he was still a softie at heart.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t go hard, though. This was just the build-up, and Jeno lived for the foreplay.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, peppering featherlight kisses to your lips, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

His lips traveled down your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along its column until he reached your collarbone. Jeno’s teeth razed the tender skin, sucking delicately until he left bruises down your neck and along your shoulders.

You swallowed, instinctively bringing your hand up to tug his hair. “What if someone sees?” you asked.

Jeno hardly even flinched at the possibility. “Let them.”

There was a shift in the air, and maybe it was because of the thought that crossed Jeno’s head—that you didn’t want anyone to know what you two were getting up to. He started biting harder. Sucking harder.

“Why?” he asked between love bites. He let his tongue graze over your bruised skin. “You don’t want them to?”

You shook your head quickly, hips stuttering to a stop. You looked Jeno dead in the eye.

“No, I do.”

Jeno sighed quietly—a little happily, if you were able to pick up on that—and he tugged his boxers down so that his cock sprang out. You marveled at his size, and that only made Jeno’s ego inflate further.

“You want it?” he mumbled in your ear. “Want me buried inside that tight cunt of yours?”

You whined at his words, which turned Jeno on even more. He thought he would go crazy if he couldn’t push himself inside you soon. His cock was already throbbing painfully.

Your eyes were screwed shut. “Please, Jeno,” you breathed out. “Want it so bad.”

“Look at me and tell me what you want me to do.”

Jeno was amused as your eyes fluttered open, half-lidded but still meeting his gaze. He continued the torturous roll of his hips as he waited for your answer, even teasing your clothed cunt with the head of his cock. He was itching to tear off the fabric that was holding him back.

You hummed. “Can you do something for me?”

Jeno leaned in and whispered against the shell of your ear, “Anything.”

“I want you to eat me out.”

It was as if some beast deep within Jeno had been waiting for your confirmation, waiting to snap.

He wasn’t sure if he was testing the waters or diving in head-first anymore. Nevertheless, Jeno started kissing down your body, making his way from your chest, to your stomach, to your hips, and down to your inner thighs. Every breathless whimper from you encouraged him further, and Jeno was ready to give you what you wanted already.

Unfortunately for you, Jeno was an absolute tease.

His palms gripped the back of your thighs, sliding forward until they were gripping your hips. He bit down on the lace of your underwear and dragged it down your legs, looking up at you with a smirk as he did, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

“Want my fingers, too?” Jeno asked, positioning himself and spreading your legs apart more. You were looking at him like you were surprised that he was offering both, and all Jeno could do was grin.

“Please,” you begged.

Jeno licked one long stripe along your lips, hot and wet and messy. It was like the first taste of poison that spurred him to drink more. Your hips started squirming at the contact, and he had to push them back against the wall. He moved back up to kiss your clit, ghosting his lips along your folds. However, Jeno wasn’t satisfied by your stifled sighs and whines; he knew you could be louder if you let yourself go.

So, Jeno grabbed ahold of one of your legs, ignoring your yelp of surprise, and he waited for you to balance on the other before he draped it over his shoulder. This gave him a better angle to devour you, so he dove right in, licking and sucking on your cunt like a starved man.

That got you moaning, and Jeno felt proud that he could make you feel that good. He settled for sucking on your clit gently, showing special attention to that little ball of nerves until you were sobbing and crying out his name. His cock was aching by this point, and he didn’t want you to be sore before he fucked you, so Jeno decided to finally aid your incoming orgasm with his fingers.

He went back to eating out your cunt, using his fingers to rub your clit in precise circles. Your cries were seared into his memory, like a melody he couldn’t escape. It was making him feel like he was on fire, inciting a groan from the back of his throat.

The desperation was thick in your voice. “I-I’m so close…”

“I got you,” Jeno mumbled against your cunt, and he slid two fingers inside you just as you came.

He guided you throughout your orgasm, continuing to kitten lick at your engorged clit and fingering you as you rode out your high. Jeno could feel your walls contracting, and the feeling must have been so intense for you because he felt your legs starting to shake as well. Your other leg was on the verge of buckling and collapsing, so Jeno held you steady by gripping your knee.

“So good for me,” Jeno moaned, “so fucking good and obedient for me, doll.”

This was what Jeno loved about wall sex. He loved watching you struggle to stay upright as he fucked you out. He loved the tension despite being in such an uncomfortable position. He loved feeling you grab onto him for leverage since there was nothing else you could do.

“How was that?” Jeno asked once the pulsing of your walls slowed to a twitch. He gently removed your leg from his shoulder and stood up so that he was cornering you against the wall again. “You want more, don’t you?”

Dazed, you bit down on your lower lip, nodding dumbly at his question. You weren’t even trying to speak, though, so Jeno gripped your jaw.

“Words, angel,” he ordered.

You whimpered, gripping the front of his shirt. “I need you to fuck me already.”

Gaze on your lips, Jeno only nodded before sealing your mouth with his again. You sighed into his mouth blissfully, sliding your hands up to wrap around his neck once more. Jeno scooped you up and brought you back to the couch.

You giggled. “TV’s still on.”

“You’re gonna have to be extra loud for me, then,” Jeno replied, grinning as he got on top of you. He ran his hands along the curves of your body, exhaling slowly in utter admiration. “You ready for me?”

“Of course,” you breathed out.

He reached for his wallet first to pull out the spare condom he kept inside. When he was taking it out, you raised a brow at him.

“Is that a condom?” you asked.

“No—seasoning packet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Very funny.”

Jeno smiled at you before he used his teeth to tear the wrapper off, sliding the rubber onto his cock. Once he rolled it onto his length, he looked at you to make sure you were still okay with this. The way you reached for his cock, pumping it once and rousing a groan from Jeno, though, was very telling.

Jeno licked two of his fingers and brought them down to rub against your folds, smirking at how you squirmed and whined for him. He pulled away and pressed his fingers against your lips, urging you to open up. Soon, you wrapped your pretty lips around his fingers and sucked on them obediently. His cock twitched, as if it was telling him to hurry the fuck up already. Jeno thought he would never be able to get tired of the breathtaking sight.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned.

With that, Jeno pulled his fingers away and leaned down to peck your lips softly before he slid inside you. Your eyes widened and a gasp tore its way past your lips, and the way Jeno was splitting you apart made you feel like fine china shattering into pieces. Jeno himself was overwhelmed by the sensation; the way you sucked him in was bringing his entire world down.

God, now Jeno understood why men went to war over women in the past. This was earth-shattering.

Jeno removed your legs from where they were wrapped around his waist, and he pushed them up so that they were closer to your chest. He groaned as he bottomed out inside you, relishing each cry and whimper that fell from your lips. The way your walls tightened around his cock made him feel desperate more; one taste and Lee Jeno wanted your everything.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Take it—take it all, doll.”

Jeno started moving inside you at a steady pace once you were adjusted to his size. He pulled your hands off of him, interlocking your fingers with his and holding them above you. Watching your gaze turn lustful and your tits bounce as Jeno pounded into you was quite the sight. He fucked into you harder, slowing down for more precise thrusts.

“F-faster,” you begged, eyes trained where the two of you were connected, where his cock was buried deep in your cunt.

“You want me to ruin you, huh?” Jeno questioned in a low voice, his voice so featherlight that he wondered if you could hear it over the sound of skin slapping. “Want me to fuck you ‘till you’re sore.”

“Yes—fuck, yes.”

Jeno sped up his thrusts, groaning as his hips slammed against yours. He repositioned himself so that he was sitting up more, and it was mostly so that Jeno could push down on your stomach as he fucked you to see if he could feel his cock moving inside of you. When he did feel it moving under your stomach, Jeno’s cock twitched inside of you, causing you to cry his name out.

You didn’t verbalize it, but Jeno could tell you were reaching your orgasm once again. The way you started to seize up, mouth parting as your eyes were lost trying to make sense of the blinding pleasure, was enough for Jeno to draw the conclusion that you were very close. He, too, felt his pleasure teetering over the edge, daring to spill over.

So, with one last groan, he buried his face in your neck and came. Good could hardly scratch the surface on how it felt. Jeno felt like he had experienced an explosion of pleasure after holding back for so long.

However, his job wasn’t done; he still had to take care of you. Jeno grabbed ahold of your hips firmly and fucked into you at a swifter pace, trying to get you to your orgasm despite his sore and aching cock. The overstimulation had him practically whimpering as he fucked you harder.

You were finally at your peak, coming undone in front of him with your eyes rolling back and your jaw helplessly gone slack. Jeno smirked, wondering if he had fucked you dumb, and his smile faded when he realized he probably had. He held you in his arms, kissing your cheeks gently as you twitched and squirmed, fighting the waves of pleasure that were starting to subside.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft murmur, stroking your hair. “You were so good for me.”

Your chest was heaving like you had just run a marathon. “That was the best sex of my life.”

“Don’t stroke my ego.”

“I’m serious.”

(After that, Jeno invited you to wash up with him, which vaguely translated into shower sex. He helped you wash your hair and scrub your body with soap, slathering the suds all over your body. Then, Jeno pushed you against the wall after you washed off, kissing your neck with vigor before turning you around.

Jeno groped your tits as he slid inside you, taking you from the back. He pounded into you for a few minutes before you were going limp against the wall, needing Jeno to hold you up and keep you grounded.)

You were so sore and fucked-out by the end that Jeno was worried he had gone too hard on you. He helped you dry yourself with the towel and dried your hair with the hairdryer once he gave you clothes to change into. He even ordered take-out for the two of you and had dinner with you in his bed. You two talked about architecture and your dreams, and then you started talking about what shows you wanted to watch next.

Jeno was trying to decode your words in case you were talking about sex positions, but, no, you were legitimately talking about Netflix shows.

He offered you sleeping over, mostly because he didn’t want you to leave nor did he want to sleep alone after such a sensual night. Thankfully, you accepted his offer and Jeno found himself spooning you in bed. He nestled his chin in the crook of your neck and realized he had never felt so cozy and relaxed with someone in his arms. (Once he slept over in Minjeong’s bed and she kicked him out in her sleep.)

“Hey,” you whispered. Jeno hummed sleepily, acknowledging your words, and you continued, “Thanks for today. It was a lot of fun.”

Jeno tightened his grip on you. “I had a lot of fun, too.” He moved his lips to your ear. “Maybe we could do this again some other time.”

“I’m free this weekend,” you offered.

“Perfect.”

Jeno smiled and thought about all the new things he could try with you. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take you both four hours to get to business. Jeno spent more time waiting to fuck you on that couch than actually fucking you.

He froze upon a newfound, horrifying realization. You must have noticed him stiffening up because you turned your head a little, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Jeno swallowed thickly. “I just realized we broke the ‘no sex on the couch’ rule.”

This was how the exchanges usually went.

Jeno would make an excuse to come over to your place—something along the lines of “we didn’t finish that show,” which was completely bullshit because you two never finished shows—and then he would fuck you on every surface imaginable. This time around, however, you were going over to the Bitch Hunters’ residence, and Jeno was absolutely terrified because he would be breaking the one unspoken rule that didn’t make it to the contract.

No sex on the couch.

(He broke this rule the first time, actually. He felt horrible about it and skipped class to deep-clean the couch.)

Sex on the couch was Jeno’s favorite, though. It presented the challenge of finding a way to get into a comfortable position, but it was also so accessible to use. He especially loved being over you so that he could show off how huge his muscles were, and balancing his weight on furniture with minimal surface area was the best way to display that.

It wasn’t that Jeno was scared to bend the rules of the contract—actually, scratch that; he was terrified. He wanted to respect his housemates, and fucking you on the couch that everyone sat on was going against that.

They had to have known that Jeno was planning to have sex on the couch, though. Jaemin had already teased him about his “Netflix and chill” date this morning, and everyone else decided to clear out of the house for tonight. Renjun was at his girlfriend’s place, Donghyuck was hanging out with Yoo Jimin, and Jaemin was getting munchies with a friend. Jeno felt like he had unknowingly sexiled them, and he felt a little guilty about it.

When you showed up around thirty minutes after his housemates left, Jeno couldn’t help but think about how thin the material of your dress was. Naturally, all thoughts of protecting the poor couch disappeared (again).

He swooped down to peck your lips before you walked in, and then Jeno spent the next five minutes wondering if he was even supposed to greet his hookup with a peck on the lips. You both wound up settling on a random episode of Never Have I Ever. It wasn’t like either of you were actually interested in the show; it was just easy to ignore as it played in the background.

(However, you told Jeno earlier that you two had to watch Don’t Fuck With Cats, and that he would face the consequences if he fucked you senseless before then. So, Jeno complied and put the show on.)

Five minutes of catching up and you two ended up making out on the couch, Jeno’s hand sliding to your lower back and pulling you flush against his body. What first was kissing turned to a heated makeout session, and that quickly turned to Jeno rolling his hips against your clothed cunt. It was almost painful how hard his cock was in his sweatpants.

He grunted quietly. “Fuck, that’s it,” Jeno growled out, his thrusts turning sharper and more eager. All he wanted to do was tear your clothes off and start fucking you; dry humping was only doing so much to satiate his libido.

“I thought we… were watching—a-ah!—Don’t Fuck With C-Cats,” you got out, whimpering each time Jeno thrusted against you at a brutal pace.

You were definitely insane, Jeno deliberated, or maybe it was the entire female population in general. You decked a beefy-looking man with a stack of engineering paper, willingly chose to switch into architectural engineering, and now you were thinking about a serial killer documentary right before Jeno was about to fuck the daylights out of you.

“We can watch it later,” he growled, pinning your hips down against the couch. “I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

You whined, arching your back and hiking up the skirt of your dress so that Jeno could simper at your soaked underwear. He could tell he was embarrassing you, and, better yet, he could tell it was turning you on.

“Jeno.” You had never called out his name so seriously, punctuating it like a slap to the face. It pulled him out of the fog, looking right into your eyes. “Fuck me already.”

“Anything for you.”

He wasted no time undressing you, tugging your underwear past your ankles and helping you pull your dress off. When you were fully naked, it was your turn to help Jeno remove his clothes. Part of him swelled with joy when he noticed that you didn’t shy away from him once, like you were finally perfectly comfortable being so vulnerable in front of Jeno.

“Choke me,” you pleaded. It was completely out-of-the-blue for Jeno, but it had surely been on your mind for a while.

Oh. That was new.

“You’re such a weirdo,” he chastised, but the both of you were very well aware of his cock twitching at your words.

“I’m not a weirdo,” you defended, then smirked. “Plus, I can feel how excited you are to try it out.”

“Got me there.”

Jeno wrapped his fingers around your neck, not adding any pressure at first so it was more for decoration. Then, he squeezed the sides gently, watching your lips part in surprise. Jeno rubbed your cunt to prep you, and he slowly increased the pressure on your neck when he felt you getting wetter. Then, he started rubbing the head of his cock along your folds.

He called out your name in that low register of his when he slid right into you, holding your legs apart so that you wouldn’t squirm. It was slow and sensual, but the moment he felt your walls throbbing around his cock, Jeno couldn’t hold back anymore. By the way you rocked your hips against his, it was clear that you didn’t want him to hold back either.

“J-Jeno, you feel—”

Jeno clamped a hand over your mouth, smirking at the half-dazed, half-stunned look in your eyes. “Angel, did you forget you’re supposed to be quiet? My roommates might be out of the house, but I still have neighbors.”

You nodded, eyes practically glowing at his words. Jeno liked how you could switch up from bratty to obedient in seconds, and he would never admit it, but he got a kick out of you being so compliant with him. It was the biggest power trip for him.

He fucked you deep and slow, and you didn’t beg him to go faster or try to get yourself off as fast as you could. It was like you were enjoying the moment with him, enjoying feeling so connected like this.

Jeno felt something rising to the surface, like it was about to boil over. He didn’t have time to be rational or think straight when he was so immersed in pleasure, but he felt so vulnerable and weak with you in his arms.

Then, your walls were pulsating around his cock, squeezing him in such a way that he was cumming next. Jeno groaned lowly against your skin, whispering sweet nothings as you sobbed throughout your orgasm. Somehow, the intimacy made Jeno’s orgasm feel ten times more powerful.

“I want this,” he breathed out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I want you, Y/N—want you more than anything else.”

Jeno’s lips trembled against your skin. He was terrified for your response, terrified that you could end things right now. He contemplated getting off of you and clearing the air, but something told him to stop lying to you about what he truly wanted from this.

Seconds passed. Minutes. Jeno’s heart was pounding because you two were just holding each other, you stroking his hair in soothing motions while he laid on top of you.

After several agonizing minutes, you finally whispered, “I want you, too.”

You laid like that for hours, neither of you moving or saying anything. You two just listened to each other’s heartbeats in utter silence, and it was comforting.

Other than the fact that Jeno was starting to realize that he was developing real feelings for you, and that made losing you feel a lot scarier.

Before Jeno was about to announce to his housemates that he was going to ask you out, he had to make a formal apology. So, being the honest man he was, Lee Jeno got down on his knees while his three friends were watching a SpongeBob SquarePants rerun.

They were all, of course, concerned for their friend. Sure, Jeno did stupid things here and there (and it was often Renjun that asked him if he the clouds he floated in were even in our atmosphere), but, this time, they were all staring at him in sheer confusion.

Jaemin raised a brow. “Jeno? Are you on drugs?”

“I wanna apologize to you guys,” Jeno said, raising his head to meet their eyes. “I fucked Y/N on the couch.”

Donghyuck gaped at him. “Wh—”

“Twice,” Jeno admitted.

Renjun’s jaw dropped—almost comically—and he grabbed the arm of the couch to lift himself from the seat. “This couch? Why would you tell us that information while we’re sitting on it?”

“I cleaned it with the steam cleaner right after! Both times!” Jeno added quickly to ease their worries. Renjun sighed in relief and sat back down on the cushion. “I felt so bad after breaking our contract, so I did a deep clean after Y/N left.”

“I really appreciate your honesty, Jeno,” Renjun started, “but, honestly, I could’ve gone my entire life without knowing Y/N got railed on the couch that we’re watching fucking SpongeBob on.”

Jeno grinned sheepishly. “My bad.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Also, I’m planning on asking Y/N out soon, and I sort of need your guys’ help.”

“Good!” Donghyuck huffed. “You better go out with her after all the emotional trauma you’ve put poor Larry through.”

Jaemin frowned. “Who’s Larry?”

“Our couch, Jaemin.”

“Who named our couch after Harry Styles’ and Louis Tomlinson’s ship name?”

“Our couch is no longer named Larry,” Donghyuck announced, mortified.

Renjun rolled his eyes at his friends, and he turned to Jeno once again. “What do you need us to help you with?”

Jeno sucked in a sharp breath. “Well…”

Lee Jeno wanted to ask you out in the most romantic way. His gesture had to be absolutely golden—something you would remember for the rest of your life. His plan was almost perfect; he had sent you on a very small wild goose chase while he was setting up the last part of his scavenger hunt for you. It was composed of all of the places that reminded him of you.

Jaemin was stationed at the place on campus where Jeno first met you. The clue he sent you was pretty straightforward: Go to the place where you decked that creep A.K.A the first place we met. When Jeno received the text from Jaemin that he had given you the bouquet of flowers and the next clue, the second part of the scavenger hunt was underway.

Renjun was situated in front of the building where Jeno hit on you for the first time. Not that this clue was hard or anything, but he knew that you would recognize the classroom you waited outside of while Jeno failed his midterm. (He later wondered if that was probably more of a traumatic memory for him, and perhaps he had miscalculated the romantic aspect of this plan). To his relief, Renjun was able to hand you the box of chocolates along with the third and final clue.

The paper slip read Netflix and chill, and Jeno was sure you would know exactly where to go. Donghyuck was standing outside the house with a key for you. Jeno had set up a picnic for the two of you in the living room, complete with candles and your favorite movies ready to watch on the TV. He had also prepared a slideshow of his favorite moments with you; it was cheesy, but he really wanted to show you he cared. All he had to do now was hang up the letters he had drawn and cut out that read “Will You Go Out With Me?”

His plan was almost perfect.

His mistake, however, was asking Donghyuck for help.

jeno: can you stall y/n for 10 min before you let her in the house? im almost done

hyuck: aight i’ll let her in

jeno: WTFFF DID U EVEN READ WHAT I SENT

To his horror, Jeno heard the key click before the door opened. He didn’t even want to turn and see you standing at the doorway, still mentally cursing out Donghyuck for half-assing his job and getting the hell out of there so that he wouldn’t have to face Jeno’s wrath.

You sounded bewildered when you read aloud, “Will… you… go?”

Jeno was not able to hang up the last three words in time.

So, he grabbed each word and held two in either hand, and he held up the middle one with his teeth. Jeno finally turned to you and kneeled under the words on the wall, hoping this had cleared everything up for good. This was probably the messiest confession considering he had put so much thought and effort into it, but Jeno hoped you would at least like the apple pie he made.

“Will you go me with out.”

Jeno switched around the papers he was holding.

“Will you go out with me?” you corrected. Jeno looked at you expectantly before you broke into a fit of giggles, still clutching your rose bouquet and box of chocolates tightly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for ages!”

A flood of relief washed through his body. Jeno felt each and every nerve of his physically unravel and settle down. He had been so on-edge about asking you out that he didn’t realize how instinctively tense he was these past few days.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Jeno said, smiling, “and I wanna get to know you better, so can we graduate from Netflix and chill to actual dates?”

You grinned. “I like the sound of that.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I suppose a picnic at home is the perfect place to start.”

Jeno slung his arm around your waist and started explaining all the dishes he made for you, thrilled at the way your eyes lit up at every single one. He sat with you on the blanket and helped you taste from each of the plates before you picked one to start with. (You really liked the apple pie, and it made Jeno swell with joy.)

It was true that Jeno probably didn't have all of his columns and beams in place to form the structure of a relationship. All this time, he thought he was the one who was supposed to set the foundation and lay the materials out. Now, though, he realized that he could build up the framework with you, and it wasn’t so bad having someone who could understand him through and through.

Lee Jeno loved the structure and analysis that went into architectural engineering. He loved the calculations and hands-on work he had to do in order to solve a problem.

He loved building things—working toward creating his own future, his own life. Jeno preferred taking control in that regard.

Now, though, he was more than happy to share the reins with you.

Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin sat at a park bench, contemplating getting high off their asses to distract themselves from how they felt like complete losers. After helping Jeno with his plan and getting the confirmation text from their friend that it actually worked out, the two boys realized that they were now fighting for second-to-last place.

“You know why the two of you haven’t gotten girlfriends yet?” Renjun reprimanded them earlier. “It’s because you guys keep seeing this as a competition.”

Donghyuck was an honest man, most of the time. Although it made him sound like a shitty person, it was true that he had a competitive streak. The fact that Renjun and Jeno were kicking his ass was pride-crushing. He couldn’t believe he, Lee Donghyuck, was vying for last place with Jaemin.

The two bitch hunters with the short end of the stick felt pathetic.

That being said, it wasn’t like Donghyuck wasn’t happy for Renjun or Jeno. In fact, he had been rooting for them the entire time and encouraging them to ask out the girls they liked. That’s what friends did; they supported each other until the very end. He wasn’t praying for their downfall, either. If Donghyuck truly wanted someone to fail, he would personally be involved in their downfall, and that wasn’t the case at all.

It was shitty—he knew that. Donghyuck couldn’t shake off the feeling of wanting to be first. He was too competitive for his own good, even if it was fun sometimes.

“Are we even gonna get girlfriends?” Jaemin questioned. “You know, we’ve lived an easy life—getting by with our pretty privilege. Maybe we were doomed to fail because we’ve been so careless.”

Donghyuck groaned. “Don’t say that! I’ll go crazy if I lose.” He sighed softly and pressed his lips together. “You know, I think we’ll be just fine. It would be criminal if we didn’t get cuffed.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin replied. “I’m a catch.”

“Well, I’m actually not so sure about you, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Jaemin laughed, pushing at his friend’s shoulder playfully.

That was how it was. Donghyuck never meant any of the jabs he made at his friends. He always sincerely supported them behind that joking facade of his. He truly did think Jaemin would find someone. Why wouldn’t he? Jaemin was probably one of the most attractive guys in their year. Once he got past all of the commitment issues and flightiness, he would have no problems cuffing that special someone.

“You know, I think we need to go out more,” Donghyuck said. “We need to start going to parties again.”

His friend raised a brow. “For what?”

“To meet people,” he explained. “It’s unlikely that we’re gonna fall for someone in our class like Jeno—”

Jaemin huffed. “Unlikely? Why?”

“Because you barely even go to your in-person classes, dumbass.”

“Point taken.”

“Renjun, on the other hand,” Donghyuck continued, “met his girlfriend at a party, and if he can do it, so can we.”

Jaemin nodded along to his words, holding out a hand for Donghyuck to shake. He took Jaemin’s hand and shook it firmly, as if this was a business deal they had just finalized.

“Speaking of parties,” Donghyuck started, “Yoo Jimin’s throwing a party tomorrow, and I think we should go.”

“Dude, she doesn’t want you.”

“I just said we’re going to her party!” Donghyuck exclaimed. “I’m not expecting anything, but if she happens to be into me, then that’s a win.”

Jaemin chuckled. “Keep dreaming.”

Deep down, though, both boys knew that Donghyuck was very capable of chasing after what he wanted. If who he wanted was Yoo Jimin, he was 100% confident he would successfully cuff her if he tried hard enough.

For now, though, Donghyuck watched the water ripple across the pond alongside his best friend.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS ONE !!! let’s all celebrate league player no bitches lee jeno attaining his bitch <33 also half this fic was pure self indulgence and filth but yk it’s all for the vibes >:) i am very very excited to write hyuck’s and would start now but it’s late and i am using my energy to post this muah muah !! thank you for all the support on this series and the hype for this fic! i have been soooo blown away by the comments and reblogs and asks!! <3

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#nct scenarios #jeno scenarios #nct dream smut #jeno x reader #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct oneshots #nct dream oneshots #jeno imagines #jeno oneshots #00 line hard hours #00 line smut #nct dream hard hours #nct hard hours

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kwanisms · 7 months

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»» stray kids masterlist | join the taglist! ««

This year, I'm finally participating in Kinktober but instead of doing 31 stories for the month of October, I'm going to cut it down to just Stray Kids. Spooky Month is going to be very busy for me and so to avoid missing any days, I think this is a much more time manageable option for me. So not only is it Kinktober but it's also a Creature Feature. Thats right, it's monsterfucking season, bitches. Each story will feature monster!SKZ, 4 kinks, and a dialogue prompt.

See the details for each story below the cut!

Otherworldly 🌏

➮ alien/shapeshifter!Minho × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: While watching a meteor shower with her best friend, Y/N witnesses a UFO falling from the sky and crashing on her family's farm. The two rush to the wreckage site and find an alien spacecraft with a rather mysterious survivor.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: tentacles + double penetration + anal + praise

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ what? Does that feel good? ❜

read now

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Accidents Happen🕯

➮ witch!Felix × f!Reader × incubus!Hyunjin

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: While studying for a witches exam, Felix leaves his materials out where his girlfriend, Y/N, happens upon them. When she reads an incantation, an incubus is accidentally summoned. Deciding to make a spectacle of it, the demon forces Felix to watch as he seduces his girlfriend.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: somnophilia + auralism + cuckold + mind break

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ im going to have you screaming by the end of the night ❜ & ❛ do you really think you’re in a position to be giving orders? ❜

read now

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Monsoon Season 🌀

➮ kumiho!Jeongin × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jeongin has always been a bit of an outcast in his village being half fox demon (kumiho) until a kind stranger takes him in during a monsoon and gives him more than a place to stay for a few days.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: virgin sex + degradation + begging + corruption kink

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ have you never been touched like this before? ❜

read now

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Run, Rabbit, Run 🦇

➮ vampire!Seungmin × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Seungmin is a vampire and has lived a very long life and seen many ages pass him by. He’s grown weary of immortality until he meets someone one random night who really puts things into perspective for him.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: blood play + dacryphilia + orgasm control + predator/prey play

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ why are you shaking? You're not scared of me are you? ❜

read now

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More Than Just Friends 🌖

➮ werewolf!Chris × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she visits the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: breeding + heat cycles + daddy kink + brat taming

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ we're not just friends and you fucking know it. ❜

read now

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Rough Waters 🌊

➮ samebito!Jisung × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/N is a marine biologist who is obsessed with finding new sea life. During a night dive, she stumbles across a very well hidden underwater cave entrance and finds herself meeting something that defies all logic and evolution. She forms a bond with the creature and comes back almost every night to visit him.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: cnc + dirty talk + pool/water sex + rough sex

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

read now

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Unbearable 🐻

➮ werebear!Changbin × f!Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Changbin is a very reserved person. He tries to live a solitary and quiet life but after moving into a small studio apartment in what he thought was a quiet block of the city, his neighbor soon puts him to the test when she is extremely welcoming and outgoing.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: strength kink + choking + body worship + facesitting

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❛ don't cover your mouth, I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel. ❜

read now »» coming October 31

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

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noneorother · 6 months

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Wait, the street is wet *almost* ALL THE TIME? What is happening.

@thesherrinfordfacility shared a speculation here on the fact that at the end of S2 Episode 4, the ground is still pretty wet when Aziraphale parks the car. If we follow the logic presented in the show, that means that Crowley made a heavy downpour in the afternoon, and 12-ish hours later at 6:00am when Aziraphale parks the car coming back from Edinburgh, the streets are still very wet.

This was before I read the Rob Wilkins clue about the Bentley.

Want to know what I think is always visible and in the same frame when someone is driving the Bentley? THE STREET. The street is wet at the beginning of S2E3 in the OPENING SHOT. We get two wides after Gabriel drinks cocoa, and they are both drying after being wet. A whole 30 minutes before Crowley does the rainstorm.

But wait. There's more. Look at the street in Episode 1

This is a very wet street in full sunshine. But a few hours later when Crowley refuses to help Aziraphale and gets mad we have an almost dry street. It's raining at the 2/3 mark of episode 1 (at night) because the Bentley's windows have raindrops on them, and in the wide the pavement is wet. But then when Crowley drives through London to go back to Aziraphale, the pavement is BONE DRY

And then he parks in SOHO before turning the lights back on for Nina and Maggie and what do we have? Wet street again. But wait. There's even more. Look at the street in Episode 2 Here's the wide shot right before Shax teleports into the Bentley, and then right after when Crowley drives away.

It was raining while they were talking (and the light has changed)! Where'd all the wet go?

The archangels arrive to talk about the giant miracle and the f*cking street is wet again.

Looks like it's drying out again by the time they talk about "their car" at the end of the episode, but still full sun with some puddles.

So now we're right back to the street being wet at the beginning of S2E3 You want to know the only time so far the street is not wet AT ALL in episode 3? RIGHT BEFORE THE AWNING OF A NEW AGE.

EVEN IN EDINBURGH in S2E3. It's pretty clear that Aziraphale parking the car and walking into the Resurrectionist happens at two different times because the sidewalk is WET in the second shot.

Oh hey would you look at that BONE DRY STREET at the beginning of S2E5.

By the time we get to the ball though,

Say hello to my little friend. No not Mrs. Cheng, the wet street! Shax's demon invasion at the end of episode 5 though. You could use that sidewalk as sandpaper. So dry.

Epidsode 6 is the only consistently wet street we've seen all season.

And now I would like to go somewhere padded and scream, because I. am. loosing. it.

#good omens meta #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens season two #good omens season 2 #go meta #what even is reality anymore

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taahko · 2 months

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I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before

oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long

ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv

but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec

for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:

september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please

more talking points:

consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"

hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized

in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party

there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea

details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2

we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments

overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.

#shut up aggie #mash #might add more to this later

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dreamydrifts · 1 month

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this one's for you, darling | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader | genre: friends to lovers | warning: no warnings <3 | word count: 0.8k | stefy's note: did i watch season 4 of drive to survive? yes. did i fall in love with max verstappen? positive. am i also a red bull girly now? also correct, so enjoy ;)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Being Christian Horner's daughter was also a blessing and a curse. He made you love Formula 1 as much as he does. You knew every circuit. Saw it. Analyzed it. But was also very strict when it came to talking with the drivers, as he wanted for Max to win the race. Having grown up and your dad affecting your decisions massively by owning a Formula 1 team, you decided to become Max's race engineer.

After becoming his engineer, you father's one rule was: Never date a driver. But lately Max has caught your eye. There has been a lots of playful flirting between you two, but you managed to hit it well.

It was the first race of the season. The Bahrain Grand Prix. Max won the race by a milestone which made you so happy, and that's when you heard him through the radio. "This win is for you, darling." As soon as you heard him you realised that your father was listening too. Looking into his direction you saw him confused of what he had just heard.

"That's P1 Max, great job." You smile over the microphone, forgetting about your father for a minute.

"Thank you, love." He says happily over the radio. You were taken aback.

"What a great way to start the season, well done." You say over the microphone, trying to contain your happiness.

"I couldn't have done it without you." He answered. You were smiling but now with a bit red on your cheeks. That's when you hear your father clearing his throat.

"You drove the car, Max." You say teasingly over the microphone while giggling.

"Oh, I know darling." He said teasing you as you father wasn't happy about that. "And can you not flirt with my daughter." You father added on angry tone. Clearly he head everything.

"Dad, he wasn't flirting. I was just congratulating him on the win." You reassure your father muting your microphone hoping Max doesn't hear the fight.

"Then why did he call you darling?" He continued, still with an angry voice. It was hard to deny what was happening between you and Max over the last months.

"Father, let's not worry about this. We won the first race of the season, so let's enjoy this." You answer your father on a calm voice, changing the subject easily.

He looks back at you and after a couple of seconds of thinking, he manages to calm down. "Alright. Fair enough." He said calmly. He couldn't ruin the moment. One of his drivers one the race. He had to be happy, even if he was fuming deep down. "But if i find you two flirting again.." He says on a low tone, almost warning you two what will happen next time.

"That won't happen." You reassure your father once again as your microphone was still muted.

"Better not." He said still being a bit mad, but more calm now. He looked back towards the track and smiled to you. "I'll let you two enjoy the win." He says leaving the radio room.

You unmute yourself and tell max teasingly. "Meet me at the garage so you can earn your winners kiss."

He smirked while listening and chuckled happily. "I'll see you there."

"I'll be waiting." You say before leaving the radio station letting him enjoy his win. He deserved it. Usually the winner of the race gets a party, does an interview and also gets to talk with his team. And that's exactly what Max was doing now.

Minutes felt like hours as you looked around the empty garage. He really was taking his sweet time. Just when you thought that he forgot about you, your heard footsteps. As you looked over, you saw him.

"You came." You say almost breathlessly as you looked at him. He was sweating which made him look even hotter. You were sitting down on a chair, but as soon as you saw him, the need to kiss him grew even more.

"I did, I said i would." He said coming closer to you and standing over your chair. He leaned in as he bent down, getting at your eye level. "Now, where's that winners kiss." He asked teasingly, looking into your eyes.

"Aren't you a bit impatient." You say teasingly while giggling a bit. "Just like on track."

He let out a small chuckle at your teasing and smirked. "Well this is a bit different." He says, leaning into your personal space. You could now feel how close he was, so you leaned in also, coming closer to him.

He stopped leaning for now. He wanted you to close the last bit of the gap, he smirked and waited for you. That's when you closed the gap by taking his face in your hands, kissing him. He blushed a bti and kissed you back. His hands were holding your waist, pulling you a little bit closer to him. The way you kissed was passionate, as you didn't hear any noise coming from the garage. No one was there...only you and him.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #red bull racing #friends to lovers #red bull racing x reader #red bull boys #Spotify

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absolutebl · 14 days

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This Week in BL - new entries upset the rankings

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Like most Thai BL pulps, this show doesn’t have much story to it. But I'm discovering that what it does have I actually really enjoy. I love that the gay boys got to play matchmaker for a change and I like how just GAY they are. It's nice. Refreshing.

We Are (Weds GMMTV iQIYI) ep 1-2 of 16 - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon. I like it. It’s old school Thai BL, but having fun with itself and its tropes. I’m not expecting much, so I don’t mind it waffling. All the couples are comfy. Chemistry is okay. Friendships are nifty. I like Pond's floppy hair. We fine.

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - What an extremely bloody episode. And bad guy turned out to be very bad indeed. And now pretty much everyone is dead. Nice kiss. Of course.

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 6 of 8 - It’s cute, they happy, not a ton happened. Random gratuitous bathing. As you do in BL. And I still think the sides should just end up in a thrupple

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Oh they very cute. Also very silly.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - No. NOT THE GUITAR. YES abandon guitar for the sniff test! Love this for them. And me. My most favorite trope defeated my least favorite trope. VICTORY!!!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 8 of 11 - It’s just so good. Baby went away, grew up, and learned how to become a temptation... and a husband.

Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea Thurs iQIYI) 1 of 5 eps - SooHyuk, only just surviving, reunites with YoonDae, his (brief) younger stepbrother who feels abandoned. They end up living together. The younger brother is played by Lee Jae Bin of Choco Milk Shake. OMG. STEPBROTHERS TROPE. Lucky me! Two in one season. Yay!!!! It's Korea so great visuals too. I shallow but yeah, this is great.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake. It’s utterly charming. I am charmed. Also the framing is gorgeous (of course). Very stylish.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 6fin - I don’t know. Kind of a flat ending with the leads apart for most of it. I enjoyed this show but it never really hit with me.

Summation

After a teen betrayal and resulting separation a reporter reunites with his first love. That love wants him back. I enjoyed the authenticity of a reunion romance explored in Japan's quintessentially contemplative yet surreal way. The juxtaposition of the tenderness of the sex scenes with this Japanese style of authenticity was oddly elegant but all in all this still fell a little flat for me. There's nothing objectively wrong with it, but in total the narrative felt sluggish and the main couple were just... stiff (in the wrong way). Frankly, I'd rather just rewatch Tokyo in April is. 8/10

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - What is going on with this show? No, I get the plot. I just don't get the show or why I’m watching it. Annoying.

It's done, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

To Be Continued (Sat C3 Thailand grey) ep 7-8fin - I can't for the life of me find the final 2 episodes. Haven't had a real hunt, but yeah. No dice so far.

It's airing but...

Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari (Japan Furritsubs) eps 1-? of 10 - I may wait and binge it.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - It’s so boring DNFed at 2.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) 6 - The problem with situational comedy BL is it must be situational, comedic and a BL. This show gets 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. Dropped at 3.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - only 4 eps, tell me if I should bother?

Next Week Looks Like This:

4/18 At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn. I think I've seen this before (joke) and also the trailer doesn't inspire confidence.

Still to Come in April

4/25 Boys Be Brave! AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) 8 eps - Trailer Jung Ki Sub is Kim Jin Woo's slacker friend - and secret crush. So when Ki Sub crashes at his place, his heart tingles to be near him everyday. But as the short stay turns into permanent mooch, how long can Jin Woo keep his true feelings under wraps and hold back from confessing?

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Sniff test turning into a make out sesh? Please and thank you. City of Stars

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a bother.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

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physalian · 2 months

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Writing Tone #2: Avoiding Manufactured Sincerity

There’s a scene in season 5 of My Hero Academia where two beloved teachers have been brought to some high security prison to interrogate a captured villain that turns out to be a brainwashed childhood friend of theirs. The scene is really dramatic, these two teachers are screaming at this guy, heartbroken, and when I saw the episode (shortly before quitting the entire show mid-episode over how bored I was) I was not at all as outraged and horrified as they were.

It was so tonally jarring, and so unfounded within the plot, that it was almost uncomfortable to watch. The villain they’re interrogating isn’t unfamiliar, but the plot-twist-surprise childhood friend is a stranger no one but these two care about.

I didn’t care, couldn’t empathize with why they were upset, knew nothing about their relationship with the guy beyond the ham-handed flashbacks given right that moment. I wasn’t prepared to mourn the loss of this random character, wasn’t primed ahead of time with the idea that this was a possibility to dread the scene before it happened. I was just waiting for it to be over and when it finally was, the impact it had on me was a resounding: Well that was weird. Now back to the plot.

Unfounded sincerity is the uncomfortably ugly step-sibling of plots that are starved of sincerity—look at most of Phase 4, but really, starting with Thor: Ragnarok in the MCU. Many Marvel properties are afraid to embrace the emotional moments and resort to bad jokes to laugh at themselves before the audience can laugh at them. Because how dare a late-stage superhero story about mythical gods be at all sincere in its relationships, its quiet moments, its tragedies. Nope, time for jokes.

Unfounded sincerity is when a story goes far harder with the drama, the love-declarations, the angst, the humor, where it’s trying really hard to convince the audience to care and it just isn’t working.

This happens when arguments start out of nowhere, as well, when characters explode at each other in a heated screaming match that hasn’t been left to fester for nearly long enough, undercooked and hard to swallow.

This happens when characters fall suddenly, madly in love with each other with zero dubious intervention to explain away the sudden passion.

It happens particularly when characters care a whole heck of a lot about someone the audience doesn’t, at the expense of characters the audience is invested in.

It happens when characters have emotional breakdowns and start crying over what ends up reading like spilled milk. When stoic and strong characters break over something they normally would never, for ~drama~.

This is usually both a tone and pacing issue, and a serious case of telling. The author hasn’t done any of the work ramping up a situation or relationship for proper delivery of these emotionally charged moments that are written like critical character beats we’re supposed to care deeply about.

So how does this happen?

1. The author *really* wants this scene, but writes it too early into the story

Unless there’s foul play involved, or this is a romantic comedy that isn’t supposed to be a realistic and healthy depiction of how romance works, characters suddenly declaring love for each other at the cost of their own well-being, their own character arc and journey, and their other motivations can be very frustrating to read.

But the author wants to get to the Good Stuff, so they coast on the “male + female leads = relationship” expectation without writing the why (and so ensures the rise of so many gay ships in the process). Or the male + male leads” or what have you.

2. The author cannot fluidly change tone and characters explode, instead of simmer

An argument that comes out of nowhere can really take your audience out of a scene. Your characters suddenly look ridiculous and your audience can’t follow what’s going on or why they’re so upset. This is different than a character exploding seemingly out of nowhere, but who we know has been building resentment for dozens of pages and loses it over something otherwise inconsequential.

These scenes are painfully, obviously there for manufactured drama and don’t feel natural. These characters don’t feel like people, but playthings, action figures manipulated by the hands of the author.

3. The characters involved are underdeveloped

As in the My Hero scene mentioned above, of the three characters in the scene, the “friend” we’re supposed to care about is a non-entity. The two teachers could have lost their minds over this guy’s sudden death, or the reveal that he turned traitor, or that he murdered younglings and puppies and kittens, to the same emotional impact, because we don’t care about this guy (or, I don’t, at least. I didn’t, and shouldn’t have to read the manga).

You can of course have characters who grieve non-entities, like the fridged wife trope. The difference is the audience knows we’re not supposed to know or care about that lady and the character she never was. This happens pre-plot, not mid-season 5. The frigid wife is the catalyst for the character we then come to know, not a character whose death radically changes our heroes from the people we’ve already established.

4. The tonal jump is just too extreme from the established rules of the story

Abrupt changes in tone can be very tricky to pull off, and almost always fail when it surrounds an abrupt shift in character dynamics (as opposed to something more plot-related). As in, your lighthearted comedy suddenly stops the plot so two characters can scream at each other, when this level of emotional charge hasn’t been established as a possibility.

Or the aforementioned emotional breakdown that just leaves audiences uncomfortable like the awkward friend trying to soothe a weeping companion.

—

Unfortunately, the fixes to these situations are either delete that entire scene, or go back and do a lot of rewriting so there’s enough build-up to justify its existence. Go back and write in that simmering resentment, all the little frustrations, a pre-existing tension within the relationship that is always primed to snap.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and there’s a reason the “slowburn” is so popular. Setting out from the beginning to write a fast-paced, passionate romance tells your readers to expect exaggerated displays of emotion.

My favorite musical is Moulin Rouge. This movie is insane. Everyone is hyperbolically emotional and nothing is half-assed. The dances, the belting singing, the costumes, set-design, editing, the declarations of love– they’re all dialed up to 11. So characters screaming their love or rage from the rooftops is a *lot* but you’re prepared for it from the opening scene, knowing exactly what kind of movie this is.

Even if you don’t start your story with the level of drama it will eventually reach, there should still be some sort of progression when it comes to character drama.

Last Airbender didn’t open episode 2 with the emotional intensity of Zuko and Azula’s last Agni Kai… but it did show you that this isn’t just a lighthearted comedy in episode 3, with the reveal of Gyatso’s body and Aang’s violently emotional reaction.

Speaking of episode 3, they didn’t throw in Gyatso out of nowhere. We know from the show so far that a) Aang is the last of his kind, and b) he doesn’t know this. Everything leading up to this reveal is lighthearted, sure, but with that undercurrent of dread, waiting for Aang to see for himself, waiting for that other shoe to drop.

So some things to keep in mind are:

Prime the audience with dropping that first shoe, make them aware of the building tension (romantic, aggressive, grief, or otherwise), even if not all the characters are aware.

Build that tension. If your characters will eventually explode, let them be mildly irritated first, then annoyed, then frustrated, then angry, then raging until they can’t contain it anymore.

Make sure every party involved in this dramatic moment is someone the audience actually cares about, not just someone they’re told to care about.

TL;DR: Don’t pull the trigger prematurely. It’s most obvious with suddenly passionate arguments, characters flinging insults and hurts the audience isn’t prepared for and doesn’t know about, in effort to move the plot along before it’s fully cooked.

So unless there’s some drugs or fairy magic involved, or one of these characters has a gun to their head forcing them to do this right now, people don’t just explode in a rage without some buildup first. People can explode in a rage over a seemingly inconsequential and unrelated thing, but they’re likely already upset and this one little thing is the final straw. Audiences love the anticipation of what that final straw will be, and whether the explosive drama is rage or romance, “slowburn” is immensely popular for a reason.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #pacing

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littlelioncub43 · 1 year

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Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs.

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke.

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock.

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks.

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh.

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling.

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop.

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips.

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live.

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did.

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes.

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment.

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust.

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile.

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror.

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that.

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse.

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you.

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in.

It was going to be a fun night.

And it was.

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.”

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table.

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly.

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap).

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout.

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside.

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress.

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by.

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter.

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van.

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching.

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement.

“Me too, Eds.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth.

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you.

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you.

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short.

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van.

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems.

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard.

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night.

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence.

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls.

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly.

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.”

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes.

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head.

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too.

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug.

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew.

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice.

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words.

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower.

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out.

Part I. Part III

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