#either julies gonna do something fucked up as hell or something fucked up is happening to julie

[stilbiesrevivedclone]

Uh ooooooh......

[fairlyang]

Dos Locos 🕷️

ཐིཋྀ W/C: 1.8K

ཐིཋྀ PAIRING: ex!miguel x latina!reader

ཐིཋྀ TAGS: 18+ smut. toxic af, broken up, pettiness, cheating x2 (never do this), still so toxic, unprotected sex, being insufferable x2, awful humans, creampie

notes: i wrote the beginning on the last day of may i’m so dead😭 kinda back to writing for mig again 😀 july was for qimir oops. also was thinking of insomniac peter not peter b but it doesn’t matter sjsjsjjs

Broken up. Separated. End of. Not together.

You and Miguel both decided to break up because the relationship had gotten so toxic over the past year and you were both growing tired of it. So you ended it mutually but deep down you weren’t over him and he wasn’t over you either. after all it was a three year relationship.

Unfortunately you were both stubborn and were not going to make the first move to get back together or have one final fling. Especially since you found out he was on some petty shit after a month of being broken up and already seeing someone new.

in another world where his brother Gabriel wasn’t taken, he would’ve been the first choice. but you weren’t a homewrecker. famous last words.

So you did the only logical thing you could think of and hit up one of his work friends because you needed to out-petty him.

You ended liking him the tiniest bit and it may not have been so healthy to do it so soon after the breakup but you couldn’t help it.

Peter was just so sweet and funny, and didn’t nag at you over the littlest of things.

It was a surprise when you started officially going out with him two weeks after that. You saw him nearly everyday and he always spoiled you. Maybe a bit of love bombing but it was just so nice. it was a huge difference from the end of your relationship with Miguel.

You didn’t even care when you found out Miguel was also going out with that girl you saw him with two months ago.

After all, you were broken up, right?

imagine knowing damn well you’re both seeing other people, hell just full on taken but after an accidental sighting of each other at a bar you ended up in a hotel room together.

both of you folding like a book as if you weren’t in supposed happy relationships. neither of you could deny your feelings for each other and the chemistry was still there as if it never left.

so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he was on top of you, pounding into you as if the breakup never happened.

but his dirty words would quickly remind you.

“eres tan terca-“ he groans as you roll your eyes. (you’re so stubborn)

you had been denying that you missed him since you entered the room. he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t going to be the first to openly and verbally admit it.

“lo dices como si tu no eres!” you scoff making him grunt. (you say it as if you aren’t!)

“you’re a pain in my ass.” he mutters making you chuckle.

“yet here you are fucking me.” you spat quickly earning yourself an eye roll.

he was already so tired of your shit. it’s like he’s getting reminded of the reasons you broke up in the first place. it was bad enough you were as or even more stubborn than him but for it to not even stop while he was fucking you?

even after three months had passed?

and the fact that he liked it? he knew there was something wrong with him.

so he did what logically made sense in his head and started giving you deeper thrusts while keeping his same brutally fast pace.

you yelped and squirmed around but he held your legs in place. you bit your lip and gave him a glare.

how was it possible for him to be this annoying and still not put you off?

the grip he still has on you made you sick.

“aw estás enojada?” he teases making you let out a groan. (aww are you mad?)

he was just so aggravating. but lord was the bickering so badly missed.

so you decided to change the topic on the argument. just to have a slight upper hand.

“so are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” you say breathlessly.

“what the fact that you practically jumped into my arms first chance you got?” he murmurs with a smirk.

you shake your head and roll your eyes, “that is not what happened-“ you start but cut yourself off, “how about the fact that you moved on after a fucking month?”

“what jealous?” he taunts and you groan again.

“you fucking wish.” you say and give him a grin.

“if anything you wished i was jealous.” he says stifling a laugh back.

“oh please.” you scoff and he shrugs before coming down so his face was closer to yours.

your hands were on his biceps, because if there was one thing you missed was having them to grip on to. Peter was rather… scrawny.

and as if reading your mind, he continued. “did you think you’d really make me jealous with Puny Parker?” he laughs, making you groan.

“i wasn’t trying to make anyone jealous.” you quickly defended yourself but he didn’t believe a word.

“yeah okay.” he mumbles and holds back a smile.

he did miss this, so of fucking course he was jealous. he was so fucking pissed when Peter started talking about chasing after a girl he was crushing on only to find out it was you.

he wanted to kill him.

but then he realized he shouldn’t be jealous. you weren’t his anymore and he had Dana. he should be more than happy and not jealous out of his mind but yet you always haunted his thoughts, dreams, hell he nearly moaned out your name when Dana was sucking him off.

he fucking knew Peter was giving you eyes but you always claimed he was just being nice.

nice would be letting you go without any marks on your body. even that was pushing it.

he quickly decided against it and leaned down, letting go of one of your legs to squeeze your left breast before sucking on your nipple. he moaned and pulled slightly back before he flicked his tongue over it,

he then went higher and kissed the top of your breast, everything happening so fast your mind didn’t even process when he started to suck onto your skin.

you gasped and smacked his arm before trying to push him away but he wasn’t budging. now you were getting worried.

sure you knew you’d have to face the music at some point but now with a fucking bright ass mark on your breast you’d have a harder time dragging it out.

“estás loco!!!” you hissed and he finally pulled away, with the biggest shit-eating grin. (you’re crazy!!!)

he decided to finally fall into being honest.

“por ti lo soy. quisite escuchar eso verdad?” he murmured and you feel your face flush. (for you i am. you wanted to hear that right?)

he moaned as you clenched against him, a big indicator that he was right. your body always gave you away and you wouldn’t even be able to lie about it.

“you’ve been dying to hear me admit how badly i missed you, haven’t you?. how i missed your hugs, missed your cooking, your kisses?” he admits and you bit your lip trying to fight the urge to give in.

his hand went up to your cheek, forcibly making you lock eyes with him. as if things couldn’t get worse he just kept going, “wanted to hear how fucking badly i missed your mouth? how fucking much i’ve been needing your pussy?”

his tone hit you and you couldn’t stop the moan from leaving your lips. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he slowed down, focusing on hitting it deeper inside you.

“ahora dime, soy el único loco?” he asks and you look back at him, beyond happy. (now tell me, am i the only crazy one?)

because you knew it and were glad it was mutual, and because you didn’t give in first.

he looked at you expectantly, he knew the truth the whole time but he knew with his admission that yours would follow.

you quickly wrapped you arms around his neck, bringing him closer before whispering, “somos un par de locos.” (we’re a pair of crazy people)

he leaned in and kissed you. you kissed him back immediately and it instantly turned into a heated kiss with his tongue clashing with yours. his hands were all over you and yours moved to scratch at his back because him fucking you again was what you’ve been craving.

he went back to pounding into you like there was no tomorrow and knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came inside you. he was already feeling so close and with the way you squeezed him to perfection like you always did, it wasn’t the tiniest bit surprising.

he pulled away so you could both catch your breath but mostly because he wanted to see your face. he loved looking at you when you came. even more so when you came at the same time.

he leaned his forehead to yours, his eyes all glossy, and his thrusts becoming slopping. you clenched against him and felt your orgasm build up quickly. “missed you so much baby.” you whimpered and he nodded, pieces of his hair falling down.

“you have no idea how much i missed you mami.” he murmured making you moan and hold onto his face as your legs began shaking.

“moaned your name instead of his.” you admitted making him smile.

“nearly did the same.” he chuckled making you laugh.

you were truly so alike. in more ways than you could ever count.

“you’re gonna call him after this and tell him to fuck off.” he muttered and you could only whimper.

“you’re all fucking mine i don’t care.” he purred and grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his.

“toda mía, verdad hermosa?” he murmured and you quickly moan out a yes which was enough to push you both off the edge. (all mine, right beautiful?)

he groaned as he spilled his load inside you, making sure it was as deep as possible before doing slow thrusts to ride out your highs. your legs shook and your cries only drove him more insane.

he kissed your forehead as you brought your legs down and he slowly started to slip out of you. as much as he wants you to keep all his cum, he knew you were about to knock out.

his dick slipped out with a loud plop and his cum oozed out and dripped down to your asshole. he quickly got up and ran to the bathroom, getting a towel before running back to you to clean you up.

you closed your eyes as he made sure every drop came out and he softly cleaned you up before throwing the towel away and getting back into bed.

you quickly got comfortable on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and lifting the blanket over your bodies, so happy to have you back.

[pattywinchester]

Suptober 2023 Day 4 -Nimbus

“Cas, I’m telling you, something’s not right. We must be a target or, at the very least, this... What are they calling it... phenomenon is somehow connected to us."

“Really, Dean, I think you are reading too much into this.”

“Seriously? Let's recap. We have been on what? Six hunts in six different cities in the last eight weeks, and in each of those cities, every night that we’re there, the sky lights up like the Fourth of July, complete with shooting stars and shit. You telling me that’s a coincidence? I don’t think so.”

“Well, in either case, it appears to be harmless. People haven’t reported any threats or destruction of property, have they?”

"No, Cas, you know they haven't. Everyone we have spoken to says it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen."

"So, see, Dean, why worry so much. Don't borrow trouble. It's fine."

“Man, what’s gotten into you? Since when do we give crazy shit a pass just because it's 'pretty.'”

Cas shoots Dean a look and raises one brow before remarking, “I do it every day for you, Dean.”

"Oh, you're a wise guy now?" Dean says as he leans in to give his angel a kiss and a slap on the ass.

Their argument is temporarily forgotten when they end up in a tangle of arms and legs and quiet moans, causing them to get little sleep.

As they stow their gear in Baby the following day, the men overhear motel guests, remarking on the previous night's incredible light display.

“Fucking hell, it happened again. What the fuck, Cas? Don’t you think we should investigate?”

“Nooooo, I don't think so... I mean, what is there to investigate, really. What are we going to do, question the sky?" Cas responds as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Dean looks at Cas for a full minute before he says, "Man, what is up with you? You’re acting cagey as hell."

“I don’t know what you mean, Dean. I am behaving normally. My responses are completely natural and truthful.”

“Oh, is that right? Cas, you gonna tell me what the fuck is up? This shit is weird, even for you.”

Cas stares at Dean unblinking, not saying a word until Dean gives up, slams the trunk, and makes his way to the driver's seat. "Get in weirdo. We’re going home."

They barely reach the freeway when Dean's phone chimes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at it, and hands it to Cas. "It's Sam. What's it say?”

"There is some ghost activity in Lincoln. He wants to know if we are 'up’ for it." Cas says, employing his now famous air quotes that never fail to make Dean both cringe and go incredibly fond.

“I’m good if you're good, Sunshine. What do you say?”

"Sure, Dean, Let's take care of it."

They pull into the parking lot of yet another seedy motel a little after midnight. Too late to do anything at that hour, they decide to get a good night's sleep and start fresh in the morning. After hot showers and Door Dashing burgers, the two men crawl into bed exhausted. It doesn't take Dean long before he snuggles against Cas, kissing him down his neck and nibbling at his earlobe. Cas' response is immediate, as it always is, and he turns his body to feel all of Dean's body against his.

"Dean, you should sleep..." Cas says reluctantly into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Angel. I'm way too far down this road. There is no turning back now." Dean says, pressing his hips against Cas as evidence. "Besides, there hasn't been one night since we've been on the road that I haven't felt you inside me, and I don't plan on changing that.”

Cas lets out a strangled groan, pushes Dean onto his back, grips his wrists, and pins him to the bed. Holding nothing back, Cas gives Dean what he wants.

The following morning, Sam calls to inform the men that there have been more reports of strange lights in the sky, this time in Lincoln.

"Well fuck, Cas. Whatever this is, it's definitely following us. I don't know why you've been shrugging this off, but we are investigating right after we handle this ghost."

"Uhh, sure... it's harmless... but I suppose we can 'look' into it if it makes you happy, Dean."

"If it makes me happy? Cas, you crazy son of a bitch, since when do we hunt to make me happy? You know what, forget it. You're going to tell me what is up with you when you are good and ready, and until then, I'm doing my job and investigating this thing."

"I love you, Dean."

Although confused, Dean's agitation leaves him instantly, "I love you too, Sunshine. Come on, let's go ruin some ghost's day."

What they thought would be a routine salt and burn turns out to be so much more. As a result, they both come back bruised and bloody. Dean instantly falls asleep after Cas stitches him up.

In the morning, Dean wakes up stiff and a little worse for wear but determined to figure out those goddamn lights in the sky. He and Cas get ready to head out to start interviewing and researching when Sam calls to let them know that last night was the first night since they've been gone that there has been no anomalous activity.

"See, Dean, it's nothing. We can go home now. Don't you want to go home?"

"Well, yeah, Cas, but let's think about this for a minute. What made last night different from all the other nights since we hit the road?"

"Nothing?" Cas says nervously

Dean laughs and says, "Yeah, the only difference is that I didn't knock your socks off last night like every night."

Cas looks at Dean nervously, eyes wide.

Realization slowly dawning, Dean exclaims, "Holy fucking hell, Cas. It's you, isn't it? You're doing this?”

Cas, at last drops the façade and responds, “Yes... Not purposefully... I'm sorry... I've been trying to control it. I hope this will not impact the frequency or the intensity with which we copulate.”

"So let me get this straight, having sex with me is so good that it causes you to create a fucking celestial light show?”

"Yes, when I orgasm..."

Dean stares at Cas blankly, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide.

"Dean, say something. Are you angry?"

"Holy shit, Cas, that's the best fucking thing I have ever heard," Dean sputters, doubled over with laughter.

[wrenwinchester]

So, I started writing this snippet back in December, and it started based on the whole “and when dad came home…” line from Dean in season five. Obviously. I’m not sure if this will be included in my actual fic, but my timeline is that this happens when Sam is 11, since I couldn’t find a canon age. This is unedited, though I did read through it the other day, and it’s definitely painting John in a harsh light.

I don’t know that this fits all characteristics of how I see them, but like I said it’s unedited and I’m gonna stop stalling and just let you read if you so choose. Happy 4th of July.

TW: child abuse, canon typical violence,

Word count: 4,330

Flagstaff

Sam 11, Millie 13, and Dean 15 (we don't have a canon age for when he ran off.)

"Why do you guys have to go this time? And why can't Dean and I come too?"

Dean's head snaps towards Sam before he looks at me. And I try to hide the worry in my face, and ignore the tension growing in my shoulders as I turn away from the bag I'm packing.

Sammy's voice isn't scared, he's frustrated. I don't blame him. I'm just as tired of this shit as he is.

"Dad told you why. He needs Dean to work on research for that other case, and Dean hates doing stuff by himself. Besides. It's a simple salt and burn, we'll be a week, tops." I smile at him, hoping it's reassuring as I reach up to ruffle his hair. When did I start having to reach up to the top of his head? At least he's still shorter than me. Even if only barely.

I shake my head. And Sam deflates, going to mope in the other room. Fucking preteens, man. Goddamn. I give Dean a look of sympathy. I know he'd rather be the one going on this hunt, hell, I'd rather stay here with Sam.  At least then I'd only have to worry about one brother.

"Mills, if you don't finish packing, Dad is going to be pissed when he gets back." I nod, Dean's eyes promising me they'd be okay.

The door opens, and despite everything I tell myself, my body freezes.

"You ready to go?" Dad's voice is gruff, and I flinch as the door slams behind him. Sam comes back into the main room, ready to fight before Dean gives him a look.

I nod stiffly, not trusting myself. Unlike either of my brothers, I know what this hunt is actually about. And it's not just another hunt, but God do I wish it was.

Dad is using me as bait.

He's using me as bait, and I can't fucking tell my brothers.

"Sam, you'll be fine. Just listen to Dee, and stay out of trouble." I smile at him, reassuringly. He just nods sadly.

"Sam." Dad's voice is harsh as he says the name, and Dean and I both ready to jump in if necessary. "Stop throwing a fit over every little detail." The quiet that sweeps over the room is thick. "If you needed to be on this hunt, you would be." Sam flinches at the words, and I just want to stay and hold him.

But I can't.

Dad has already left the room, so I have to trail behind him.

I glance between my brothers before I walk out the door. Dean can handle Sammy. He always has.

...

Unsurprisingly, the hunt took longer than a week. Hell, it took almost a month, Dad ran me ragged, keeping me up late in the night figuring out what it was, because it sure as hell wasn't a ghost. (I'm still not sure what it was.) Dean had called at some point, but we were busy, and Dad yelled at me for trying to answer it. That was a week ago. I haven't heard from either of my brothers since, but frankly it was weirder that we'd gotten a call from Dean at all.

It had me worried.

But now we're on our way back to the motel where we left the boys at.

"Millicent, stop bouncing." Dad's voice is harsh, and I force my legs to hold still.

My finger starts tapping. "What was that thing, Dad?" I ask trying to distract myself from everything that could have gone wrong with my brothers.

"An Okami, they're rare in the states, 'cording to Bobby, but it stayed down, so guess we did something right." He's demeanor is so calm. It pisses me off, how can he not even be concerned about the lack of communication from Sam and Dean. I rub the bandage on my arm nervously, at least I'll see them soon.

"Interesting, why do you think there's one here now?" At least if he's talking I can pretend to be focused on that.

"No idea kiddo, but it's gone now." He reaches over to ruffle my hair, and I let him, if only because I don't want his mood to sour. "Get some rest, we've still got a couple hours 'til we're back with your brothers.

I nod and turn towards the window, watching as the sun sets and stars come out. Wishing more than anything that we were with my brothers right now.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after, because the car is now pulling into the motel parking lot.

Before Dad even has the car in park, I jump out of passenger seat, ignoring the cut in my side as it pulls from the movement.

Dad shakes his head in amusement, as I rush to the door, knowing I'll have to wait at least 5 minutes for him to get our bags and get over here with the key, but I'm too impatient.

Thankfully, I don't have to wait that long, I don't even have to do the knock. Dean opens the door, and within a second, I've wrapped my arms around his neck, and out of sheer habit, he lifts me up to swing me around.

I wince despite wanting to enjoy this rare show of affection, and Dean quickly sets me down on the sidewalk.

"Are you okay?" He asks, worry in his eyes.

I nod, "yeah, just a small cut. I'm fine." I don't mention the stitches dad had to put in, or the cut on my arm, as I check Dean over. Usually when Dad takes just Sam or I on a hunt or to practice, Dean seems healthier, at least more rested.

Dean's only response is to nod back, before turning his attention to Dad.

"Dad?" He calls out, his voice small and scared. I started to worry. Dad had looked up from the trunk of the impala, and I didn't like the look in his eye. I went into the hotel room, I didn't need to be out there, for this conversation, and I'd missed Sam too.

I checked all the rooms for Sam, but I couldn't find him. Dean wouldn't have let Sam go off on his own. I glance back towards the door as the realization dawns on me.

Sam is gone, and Dean is telling Dad right now.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Not two seconds later, Dad is storming into the motel room, Dean following behind earnestly.

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET HIM GO OFF ON HIS OWN?" His voice is harsh, and once the door is closed, my heart starts beating fast. I try to step in between them, but Dad pushes me out of the way on to the floor. My heart is beating faster, and panic is setting in as I watch, disoriented from the floor.

Dad's hand is... it's wrapped around Dean's throat. De.. Dean is struggling to breathe, I can see it in his face. I try to stand up, dizzy and disoriented, I probably have a concussion now, but that's every other week at this point.

"Dad. Dad!" I rush across the room, throwing myself on Dad's arm, trying to get in-between. "Dad! You're going to kill him!" My voice is harsh, I've never been more scared. As I'm pulling on his arm to get him to set Dean down, I look in his eyes.

"Dad, please!" I'm pleading with him now, but I'd do anything to get him to stop. When he finally looks at me. He lets go of Dean, who then falls to the floor. He brings up his hand, slapping me across the face.

"He lost your brother! The Hell am I supposed to do?" He quickly turns back to Dean, moving on to wailing on him, not hard enough where people would see the bruises when Dean went back to school, but still. My heart breaks more than it ever has.

"Dad! It's not his fault!" I just wanted it all to stop, and he just hits me once in the stomach, hard enough to put me out of commission for a while.

"Enough!" Dean's also out of commission for at least a week, but Dad walks out of the motel. I don't really care where he's going, I'm just glad that he's gone for a while, and assume he's going to look for Sam, or to a bar. Probably a bar.

I crawl over to Dean.

"Dee?" My voice is strained, and I'm pretty sure I have a broken rib or two, and the cut on my side is definitely reopened.

"Are you okay, Millie?" his voice is hoarse, and I can't believe that he is asking if I'm okay, when Dad almost killed him.

"ME? What about you?" I let out a dry chuckle, "Dad almost killed you."

I'll be fine, it's nothing that hasn't happened before." He looks away from me as he says it, his voice barely above a whisper, not to mention the fact he all but lost it from Dad choking him.

My eyes soften, as my heart breaks into smaller pieces. "I knew about the hitting, that's nothing new, but he's choked you out before?" tears start welling in my eyes, and I don't mention the ones I see in his. He just nods. "Oh, Dee." I try to lean against his shoulder, but wince as the cut pulls, reminding me of reality.

"You sure you're okay Millie?" Dean asks, more like coughs.

I try to nod reassuringly, but the sting in my side has gotten worse, and my hand reaches up to grab it. "Shit." Frankly, we should both be going to the hospital, but we both know that's going to happen, and it's not even really an option.

Dean glances down to where my hand is gripping my side, and his eyes widen as he sees the blood starting to show through my shirt. Double shit.

I try to move, but I can't, it just makes it worse.

"Shit. Millie. What the hell?" Dean asks, he struggles to stand, but once he's up, he carefully lifts me up.

"Dean. Put me down. I'm fine." I try to push away from him, but everything in me wants to just close my eyes.

"No, you're not." He sets me on the bed. "Let me see it." It's not a request, but I roll my eyes, trying not to pass out as I do.

"Dean, I walked a mile out of the woods with this, then rode in the car for half an hour before Dad put the stitches in. I'll be fine for a few minutes." I hadn't meant to tell him what happened, especially not how long I'd been bleeding for, but nonetheless, it came out. Stupid delirium.

He looks at me in shock as I continue, "I mean, I didn't have a double concussion, or a broken rib, but still."

"Fuck, Millicent, what the fuck." He stares at me a second more before turning to my wound. Finally, I let him pull my shirt up to look at it. I hadn't checked it since last night, but it was fine. "Shit, Millie." he looked up at my face. I tried to ignore the rasp in his voice, it just made me angrier at Dad, and the last thing I needed was an increase in blood pressure. "I'm going to have to restitch this, and it's going to hurt like hell. Do you know which side the broken rib is? Can you tell?"

"Y-yeah," I sound breathless, and it's hard to breath. I remind myself it's nothing new, and it's not the first time I've had broken ribs. "At least one on both sides. I-I think."

"Motherfucker." Dean sighs. He shouldn't be the one doing this, but there's no one else I would really let. The only reason I let Dad was because I was too far from Dean, and I couldn't do it myself. "Okay, stay awake. I'm going to grab the first aid kit. Can you tell me what happened on the hunt? Or do you want me to tell you a story?"

He got up as he was talking, and I started to panic. "Y-you." my breathing is labored, and I think I'm in shock a little, because the reality of what just happened is just now hitting me. I shake my head. "Tell.. tell me why Sam took off, an-- and when." I say, trying to control my breathing.

When Dean comes back with the kit, he has me lay down on my left side, the side without the cut. I focus solely on Dean's voice as he talks, watching his hands move rhythmically as he sews up the cut in my side. The next few weeks are going to suck ass.

Dean tells me about a small fight he and Sam got in after Dad and I had been gone longer than a week. I nod in understanding, followed by a wince as he pulls my skin together with the floss. It wasn't the first time Sam lashed out when a hunt didn't go as planned.

Dean continues, saying Sam seemed to calm down after that, and it wasn't until a little over a week ago that Sam ran off. That's when he called. He tried to find him for a couple days before he called, but Sam never came back, and he couldn't find him.

"It's probably the most stress I've ever felt, until you guys came home, and I had to tell Dad." his voice feels distant, farther away than it should, and I can't tell if it's because I'm falling asleep, or if his voice is just that far gone.

Not long after that, he has me sit up. "This is going to suck worse, but if you're right, and you do have broken ribs, we have to wrap them." I sigh, wincing as I do, before nodding.

After I'm all patched up, and I can breathe again, I check Dean over for any open wounds, or anything, but there's nothing to patch up.

"I told you, I'm fine. You need to rest." He gets me to lay back down about an hour after he was done fixing me.

"We need to find Sam." I'm pacing now, grateful for my older brother who always watches out for me, but in this moment, I'm focusing on the fact that Sam has been missing for over a week. "Did you check the library? or the I don't know, is the county fair happening?" I ask, I know it's around that time of year, and Dean just nods.

"We're not going to find him in the next few hours, and we both are going to collapse if we don't get some rest. Come on." He practically pulls me to one of the two beds, and I reluctantly follow. He tucks me in, humming "Hey Jude" like Mom used to do before moving to sleep on the other bed.

"Where are you going?" I ask confused, it's almost never a question on whether or not he and I share a bed, hell we still occasionally all three share a bed.

"Millie Wren, you have at least two broken ribs, and a hole in your side," he sounds flabbergasted as he says it, "I'm not risking hurting you in our sleep."

"Dee, please. You know I don't sleep without sharing a bed with someone." That gets him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Dammit Wren, It's not my fault if you get hurt." I smile because for once he actually sounds like a brother, so I just nod in agreement.

A few minutes later, with the lights off, and both of us comfortable in the bed, Dean says, "are you still awake?" I turn my head to face him.

"It's only been five minutes, of course I'm awake." I tease, but even in the dark, I can see the seriousness of the conversation he wants to have.

"We can't tell Sam what Dad did when he found out. It was my job to protect him and I failed, it makes sense, and you know that getting in between makes things worse, it was bound to happen. It makes complete sense why Dad did what he did. He's scared of losing us like we lost Mom." I nod in agreement.

"You're right. Dad's reasons make sense, and We need to protect Sam." He nods and we both turn to look up at the ceiling instead. It's one of those popcorn ceilings, the textured ones. "You know I'm always going to step in right?" I ask him after a minute, and I feel his eyes turn to me as I talk. "You're not the only one instructed to protect their siblings, and that includes you. Besides, I can handle the yelling, the beating, as long as it's directed at me. You and Sam... You guys are my weaknesses."

"I really wish you wouldn't, but I understand why you will." With that comment, the conversation ends as we both know we have an understanding.

The next morning comes quickly, and movement is quickly stifled by pain and stiffness throughout my body. As I sit up, I glance over towards Dean's side of the bed, he's still sleeping, understandably so. Yesterday was one of the rougher days we've had. I glanced over to the other bed, it was untouched, Dad hadn't been back. I just hoped he was looking for Sammy rather than sitting passed out in a bar somewhere.

I slowly move towards the bathroom, the last time I'd been was like 18 hours ago. My mind wanders to Sam, what he's doing right now, if he's safe or not, and what Dad's reaction is going to be when he finds him. I shudder at the last thought before I remember that despite his loud opposition of Dad's orders, he is the golden child.

It takes me a while in the bathroom, literally every muscle in my body aches, I carefully lift up my shirt after I wash my hands, and I see the huge bruise on my left side and back from where Dad threw me on the floor. I sigh.

By the time I slowly walk out of the bathroom Dean is up, and we are ready to go look for Sam.

A couple more days pass by before Dad finally comes back, without Sam. Shit.

He's calmer now, and I can't smell any alcohol, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been drinking. Dean and I are walking on eggshells around him, not knowing what might set him off.

When Dad passes out around 2 that afternoon, a thought occurs to me. "Hey, Dean?" I whisper to avoid waking Dad up. He looks up from the news paper where he is reading for any approximately 11 year old John Does that might have turned up in the past couple weeks, there's nothing. "Isn't Flagstaff around here?" I ask, as an idea forms in my head that I can't believe we didn't think of sooner.

His eyes light up as realization dawns on his face. "Shit, Yeah it is." He looks like his brain is moving a thousand miles a minute. "Holy Fuck, I can't believe we never looked there." He doesn't have to worry about whispering, because even though his voice is mostly back, it's still pretty raspy.

"We have to wake Dad up." I say, anxiety coating my words. "It's the only place that makes sense, and you can't drive the car by yourself.

"Dammit, I hate that you're right." His voice is weary, but somehow less raspy.

"We could wait until he wakes up on his own?" I offer, but we both know it's a bad idea. We'd likely get another beating for waiting to go get Sam from whatever trouble he got himself into. Dean just looks at me. "I know. I know."

"Go to the other room, Millie, I'll wake him up." Dean says, courage building in his voice, but I can hear the fear he's trying to hide.

"No, we're doing this together. I'm not letting you take the heat for this by yourself." I sound a lot more confident than I feel, but Dean doesn't push. Very carefully we wake him up.

Neither one of us gets yelled at, a welcome surprise, instead, he makes both of us get in the car as he drives to Flagstaff. The car is silent the whole ride.

When we get there, Dad instructs Dean and I to stay in the car. We obey. We've gotten whooped enough times this week, we weren't about to open the door to another one.

Dad goes in to a diner in town to check with locals about whether or not they've seen Sam. Dean and I diligently stay put, the silence in the car beginning to get overbearing. Dad talks inside the diner for a good half an hour or more, and just when Dean and I give each other a look considering disobeying orders, I see Sam.

"Dee..." I start.

"Millie, you heard what Dad said--" he started.

"No, Dean, look. It's Sam." I point out his window, and within a second, both of us are jumping out of the car, broken ribs and all, though at this point the cut is mostly healed.

"SAM!" Dean yells across the street. Sammy turns to face us, shock and wonder crossing his face.

"DEE!" he yells, before he sees me behind him. "MILLIE, YOU'RE BACK!!" I smile at him as relief settles over me, at least he's okay. Sam quickly looks both ways before making his way over to Dean and I. Despite his frustration, I can see Dean's relief in the slump of his shoulders and everything about how he's holding himself.

"I swear to God, Sammy, if you ever, and I mean EVER, do something like this again, I'm gonna throttle you myself," Dean says before giving him another hug. Sam knows nothing but empty threats like this, and I know that is all it is.

I hug both my brothers. "If either of you ever disappear on me again, I'm going to beat your asses." I say, before allowing Dean to guide us back to the car.

"Bitches." Dean says, pointing his word at both of us.

"Assholes."

"Fu-" Sam starts, but Dean and I both stare at him, he just rolls his eyes. "Jerks." I smile at the normalcy of just the three of us, until I remember one of us has to go get Dad.

Dean and I shove Sam into the car, not meanly, just making sure he's not going to slip away again before Dean says, "I'll go get Dad." I just shake my head.

"No way, I'll get him, he'll be softer on me, I'll be fine." Dean starts to object, but I cut him off, "Dean, you've taken the brunt of it this week, let me do this, and one of us needs to keep an eye on Sam." Reluctantly, Dean concedes. It's not like Dad is going to beat us in public, and then Sam will be back, so he'll be in a better mood.

Dean gets in the car next to Sammy, and I turn around sighing, it'll be fine. He's not gonna do anything that might cause suspicion from locals. I force myself to relax, before I walk into the diner after my dad.

It looks the same as most other diners I've been in across the country, a row of booths, a row of tables, and the counter. I glance around the room for Dad. I know he's in here somewhere, he has to be.

As I'm scanning the room for the third time, I finally see him, he's hunched over the counter a coffee in his hands as he's just sitting there. Sam's missing and he's sitting there.

Okay, well, Sam's not missing anymore, but he doesn't know that. I shove my anger down, I have to hold the family together, so I cautiously walk to where he's seated halfway across the diner.

"Dad," my voice sounds small, and I watch him fight the urge to snap at me for disobeying.

"Millie," his voice is strained. "I thought I told you to wait in the car?" It's not a question, he's giving me an out. Do other thirteen year olds think about this stuff, are they this cautious around their dads?

"Yes, sir, but Sam came back." I just blurt it out before he can cut me off, before the anger he's so good at pushing down boils over.

A weight seems to lift off of Dad's shoulders. Perhaps relief, perhaps he's no longer grieving his youngest child, perhaps he's just glad he's not in danger or hurt, or dead. "Good. Go wait in the car, I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Yes sir," I nod, turning around (practically in a perfect military style about face, but that's irrelevant). I go back out to the car, and join my brothers in the back seat of the Impala.

"Everything okay, Millie?" Dean asks, the worry lacing his tone only so much that I could tell, but Sam couldn't. Years of training our expressions taught us that one.

"Yeah, he says he'll be out in a few minutes." Dean nods, and we continue to sit in silence.

"Is Dad mad at me?" Sam asks, and my heart breaks. It's not something he should have to worry about. Ever. "I know I shouldn't have run off, I was just so frustrated."

Dean and I share a look before he looks back at Sam, "Dad could never be mad at you, you just scared him. You can't run off without telling anyone, okay?"

"Okay, Dee."

[majordemonblockparty]

sometimes watching supernatural feels like the summer I was nineteen and my best friend from high school called me up to tell me that there was construction happening at the convenience store we used to frequent after school and that when they'd ripped up the parking lot to lay a new diesel line, they'd found human bones.

same old story, you've heard it before; sometime in the 80s, two guys beefin' over a girl who neither one ended up marrying, one stabs the other sixteen times in the head, neck, and groin and tucks him away under the rebar and dirt where they're pouring concrete later that week. and then for thirty-plus years after that, people parked their cars over him and sat on the egg-yolk yellow parking blocks to smoke their first (dozen) cigarettes over him and poured tiny airline bottles of vodka bought by soccer moms who wagged their fingers and laughed at underage kids day-drinking, "don't do anything i wouldn't do" into their styrofoam cups of coke over him and nobody knew.

sometimes it feels like that.

like there's something about where and how I grew up that I -- not necessarily forget, but between active suppression when I first left and the relentless passing of time, it gets buried. and then this fucking network tv show comes and rips it right back open.

watching supernatural as somebody who grew up in and around the midwest feels insane. feels all sorts'a unhinged. never have I ever seen popular media treat my childhood playground states like this. the midwest isn't sexy; the midwest isn't cool; and it's not in supernatural, either, but it's... something.

far be it from me to romanticize americana and its role in supernatural (I am not the first and sure as hell won't be the last) but what the fuck. it's so strange to look at these characters and go, "oh. he gets it."

he knows what the liminal space of a car interior feels like on a january day when the roads are covered in dried salt and the fields are blanketed with snow and everything -- everything; the sky, the ground, the road stretched out forever in front of you -- is the exact same shade of pale gray. there's no topography, so there's no horizon; just this endless gray void only broken up by the double-solid yellow line in the road.

he knows how it feels to stand in a gravel turnout and watch the six-day-bruise green of a three-mile-long wall cloud bear down on you. how the air gets heavy and thick-wet enough to drink and you can see lighting way off in the distance, no sound from this far. how if you turn around, the sky over there will still be the most perfect, palest blue,"it's a boy!" birth announcement blue. that it's animal fear that makes your heart pound under your ribs, and birthright that makes you lean back against your car to take in the view. storm's coming and nothing you do is gonna stop it. this is your privilege; soak it in.

he knows what it's like to be cold and stiff and traipsing through woods, following the blood trail of something maybe-still-alive you've tagged in the lung. how lung blood in dead leaves will show up frothy, and so red it almost verges over into pink.

he knows that there's no better place come that inevitable stretch of hundred-degree days in july than in the driver's seat of your own car, windows down and radio cranked so high the frame vibrates under you and a cold drink wedged between your thighs, leaving condensation-wet patches on your jeans, keychain brushing against the (ticklish, but you'd never admit it) skin of your knee where the denim's torn.

he knows to avoid the interstate during migratory bird season; that people are flocking (wahn-wahn) from both coasts and multiple countries to see snow geese, cormorants, cranes, whatever. he knows that the back roads are where you'll see these birds, anyways; scavenging cut-down cornfields that'll be white with gulls and pelicans and terns; sea birds of all sorts, about as fucking far from the sea as you can get, swarming and screaming overhead.

anyways. not an essay, not a love letter, just. some thoughts.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Author Discussion: (Please) Prove Me Wrong

OKAY buckle up, this is gonna be a LOT.

First, I’d like to thank everyone for reading and caring so damn much about Rinko and sending so many sweet messages in support of her while she was struggling so much. And for caring about both of them while they were both so damn miserable.

These two have BEEN THROUGH IT and unfortunately, we still have Shibuya coming 🙃

But, alas, here we are.

The rest will be under the cut!

You can read (Please) Prove Me Wrong on AO3 😊

And you can read the entire series: Another Level on AO3 as well! 💕

I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to do all of this, so we’re just gonna jump right in and try to do it by timeline 🙃

June/July

OOF. Alright, let’s fucking GET STARTED.

By this point, Gojo has been abroad for three weeks because he had a Special Grade job and he went to visit Yuuta afterward. He also knows that Rinko has been meeting with her father almost weekly for a few months, going on jobs for them in the private sector, but he doesn’t know the details of them.

Because she hasn’t told him.

Why does that matter? Why does he care? Because Rinko has never been this secretive with him before. Were this not so out of character for Rinko to do, he wouldn’t have cared. But they’ve always been so damn open with each other, that the sudden secrecy made him nervous. It pulled at his gut instinct that something was wrong. He didn’t even mind that she was keeping secrets, it was that she was trying to make it seem like she wasn’t. 

Was he right in following her? No. And he knows he wasn’t. It was why he didn’t confront her to begin with, because he knew she would be mad and he knew she’d be right in being mad.

He also knew that she would likely think he’d followed her because he was jealous. But here’s the thing: he didn’t. Has he felt a bit jealous in the past? Absolutely. It’s human. But, especially since their little discussion back in Show Your Hand, he’s made a conscious effort to respect that boundary. You’ll notice that multiple times throughout (Please) Prove Me Wrong, he has the exact thought that he is well aware that they aren’t exclusive and Rinko can date whoever she wants, including Nanami. Even if he feels jealous, he is making a real effort to make sure that he doesn’t act on those feelings because he knows it wouldn’t be right or fair. 

They weren’t fucking exclusive. They weren’t. Even if she and Nanami- it didn’t fucking matter. Because they weren’t exclusive. She’d lose her goddamn mind if she thought he was acting this way because of jealousy. He wouldn’t fucking blame her for it, either. It would be fucking stupid of him.

So let’s take a step back and assess the situation we’re sitting in.

Gojo is getting off a plane after three weeks of traveling for a job and checking on Yuuta, he’s been on who the hell knows how many flights trying to get back, he misses Rinko, because he hasn’t seen her in three weeks, and he gets a call from Ijichi giving him some of the worst possible news.

Remember how upset Gojo was last year when the higher-ups threatened Yuuta? They just did exactly what he’d been afraid of them doing. Finding a way to take out a kid because they were afraid of what would happen if they let him live.

Let’s take another step back for that one.

The events leading up to this. Why is Yuuji Sukuna’s vessel? He ate a finger. Why did he eat a finger? Because Megumi was getting the shit beaten outta him by a few Grade 2 curses and Yuuji wanted to help. Why was Megumi getting the shit beaten outta him? Because Gojo gave him the damn job to test him.

See where I’m going with this?

Rinko already gave him an earful for it. And he knows she was right. This is, essentially, his fault. 

If he hadn’t sent Megumi alone to retrieve Sukuna’s finger, Yuuji wouldn’t have eaten it, and this never would have happened. But, he knows that he can’t think that way because it doesn’t fix the situation, and he can hear Rinko in his damn head telling him that thinking that way will only make things worse. But he can’t help it. Because a kid is dead.

On top of all of that, Gojo felt okay being gone for so long because Rinko was around. He trusted her to help the kid if he needed anything and he thought that she’d handle anything if it went wrong. But she doesn’t. She isn’t even called.

At this point, Gojo did not suspect her, not really. He knew the higher-ups were assholes and that they’d pull stupid shit like not call Rinko for the job. But then, what does Gojo do? He warps back. He can’t from that airport, so he sits on the damn flight and immediately warps from the next. In Let’s Get Lost, we learned that Gojo can make long-distance warps to places he’s familiar with (like Rinko’s apartment 😏) but that it drains him. Rinko noted that she remembered how exhausted Gojo looked after her exam because he’d warped back to Kyoto after arguing with the higher-ups. These warps can knock him out. But, instead of sleeping, what does he do? He stays up all night to try to figure out who the fuck got Yuuji killed.

He’s exhausted, he’s warped long-distance, he’s been up for more than a day, and what does he find out? Not who’s behind everything, but he finds out that not only were Nanami and Rinko both available, but they were together. Oh, why should that matter if he’s not being a jealous prick? The only two Grade 1 sorcerers who weren’t specifically on other jobs just happen to be together when a potential Special Grade is located and literal kids are sent in to exorcise it instead.

Suspect.

On top of that, the Zenin clan makes up a portion of the council. We can assume that Naobito and Ogi are both members and so we will. Gakuganji is a lapdog for the council as well. And who just happens to have very close ties with both of those? Rinko. Who has been meeting frequently with Naobito and doing jobs for him. And so, the really puzzle begins to form in front of him.

And you could see it happening in the first chapter of his perspective:

If she’d been with Nanami to keep him busy while Yuuji fucking died. While Gojo was too far away to even hope to make it back to save the kid. If he’d made a mistake. If he’d trusted her only for her to betray him. If he’d let himself fall for her. 

He didn’t give a fuck if they were together under normal circumstances. But if it was to keep Nanami distracted or keep him from getting the call? It’s now an issue.

Alright, so he’s pissed off, he’s exhausted, he’s beginning to get suspicious, and wouldn’t ya know it? He gets a text from Rinko telling him she’s almost to Tokyo and she just saw the report. She’s not coming to Tokyo for a job, so why the fuck would she be on her way already? We learned in The Weight of Failure that she never just visits. She admits she’d never just visited him before, so why would he assume that’s what she was doing? She didn’t explicitly say that in the text because she didn’t feel the need because she doesn’t have a damn clue what’s going on, but it’s suspicious. She comes to his office and he tells her to leave for multiple reasons: he’s angry and he doesn’t want to end up yelling at her, he’s frustrated and exhausted and grieving, and he’s fucking confused. Normally, he would want her there because she comforts him, but after everything he’s learned in the past twelve or so hours, his sleep-deprived lil brain doesn’t know what to think.

Rinko then goes to see Shoko. And yes, they’re friends, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Except when Shoko asks Rinko to stay in town for dinner, Rinko turns her down and leaves. We know that it’s because she feels empty and sad, but Gojo only knows that she went to see Shoko, where Yuuji’s body is, and then left. He doesn’t know anything other than that. So he continues digging even after Yuuji wakes up, deciding he’ll just find something that proves Rinko is innocent and then he’ll tell her about Yuuji.

But what happens next? Rinko gets promoted. To a Grade Rank that only the Zenin clan can get her. After she’s been meeting with them, after she wasn’t there when Yuuji died, after she’d likely been to verify the body. And again, that damn puzzle is fitting too well.

So now, Gojo is worried. Because he’s bought this woman a fucking ring because he’s realized he wants to spend the rest of his fucking life with her and now he’s terrified that he’s made a mistake because she knows so much about him. She knows so much about him and how to fight him, how to counter him.

While yes, he should have talked to her, he technically did. He called her. We didn’t see the call, but we know from both sides, the call didn’t go well.

Gojo was asking scattered questions because his brain was piecing things together and he needed answers; Rinko was ashamed and embarrassed about the deal, and also didn’t know most of the answers he needed.

And thus, their communication has really begun to crumble.

So he goes and he asks Utahime to investigate Kyoto instead of Rinko because now he can’t know for sure that it isn’t her. And then wouldn’t ya know it? Rinko is absent from Kyoto. Again, we know that it’s because she quit, but Gojo doesn’t and neither does Utahime.

Why didn’t Rinko tell Utahime? Because Rinko is avoiding everyone because she’s ashamed that she didn’t see the double-cross on her promotion coming. She’s angry at herself. And at this point, the only one who knows the extent of her deal, is Shoko. Why does Shoko know? Because she forced Rinko to tell her after Rinko calls her half-dead on the side of the road near the Zenin estate. We will get a look into that day through Shoko’s eyes in an upcoming installment.

And more pieces are clicking together.

Then, another cherry on top, Rinko knows he’s seen Yuuta, even though he never told anyone he was going, or had been, to see the kid. And because he’s already suspicious, it just adds to it. Oh, but why didn’t he just call Yuuta? Remember how he said he was beginning to not trust telling Yuuta sensitive information over the phone? He’s getting paranoid. And honestly? Rightfully so.

Oh, you’re probably wondering why Shoko didn’t tell Gojo about Rinko’s near death at Jinichi’s hands? Because Rinko made her promise not to. Rinko was ashamed and embarrassed and also didn’t want Gojo to start shit with the Zenin clan because she thought he was still upset over Yuuji’s death. And now, Shoko is stuck between two people who are keeping secrets from each other for the first time in years, who have both made her promise not to tell anyone.

Which is why she told Gojo to talk to Rinko.

August

By the time we get to August, we now know that he’s kept digging because he’s fucking hoping to find something that will prove Rinko is innocent, and - thanks to the Zenin clan - he isn’t. Because they planned for her promotion to cause a rift. But Yuuji’s death was just perfect to make it worse. He hasn’t seen Rinko since the day she asked how his visit was Yuuta was, and before that, he hadn’t seen her since the morning after Yuuji died. He misses her and he is still desperately hoping that everything he’s seeing isn’t right. BUT, because Shoko brought up Geto, he’s beginning to see similarities. Notice how his thoughts didn’t go to Geto at all before Shoko brought him up? He hadn’t made that connection. And now he’s even more distraught because he’s terrified that anyone who gets close to him will just betray him or he’ll lose them in some way. And remember how Geto died? Gojo had to kill him. So now in the back of his mind, he’s starting to wonder if he even could bring himself to do it. And he’s angry at himself because he realizes that he wouldn’t. He would likely let her kill him. And he’s trying to force himself to look past his feelings, his love for her, so that he’ll be able to protect people.

Like Nanami.

What was one of the first thoughts he had when Nanami told him Rinko had been there fighting Mahito? It’s a good thing Yuuji was there, because at least Nanami wasn’t alone with her and the Special Grade. And then he immediately scolds himself. Because Rinko wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t hurt Nanami. Not when she sees him like a brother.

Note: that Gojo knows how she views Nanami. He isn’t jealous at this point. He’s glad that the two have each other and it’s why he sent Nanami to Kyoto on the day of Geto’s Death Parade the year prior.

Anyway, where do his thoughts go from there? But Geto had been like Gojo’s brother. And he had been willing to hurt him. So, really anything is possible. And then his next thought? Shoko had put that damn idea in his head. Because he wouldn’t have connected Rinko to Geto were it not for Shoko saying something.

Because guess what guys, had he followed that line of ‘Rinko sees Nanami as a brother’ he’d likely have either called Rinko immediately, or gone to her apartment to just talk to her. Because that line of thought would have brought him back to what he knows about Rinko instead of comparing her to Geto.

Also, let’s note that because Nanami was so pissed that Gojo hadn’t told Rinko about Yuuji being alive, he didn’t mention that Mahito had destroyed her double and that was why she didn’t chase after him. Nanami forgot to tell him important information because he let his anger for his friend cloud his judgment just like Gojo was afraid he would. Because had Nanami said that her double had been destroyed and that the creepy fucker had said her soul was fragmented, Gojo would have immediately gone to check on her.

And then to make things even worse, Nanami assumes that Gojo is jealous.

And it, rightfully so, pisses Gojo off. Because he’s standing there, genuinely worried about Nanami’s safety and well-being, worried about Yuuji, and Nanami accuses him of being insecure and jealous. And he doesn’t believe Gojo when he tells him - honestly, by the way - he didn’t find out until after Yuuji was already dead and he was looking into everything surrounding peoples’ whereabouts. And when Gojo asks who planned that dinner? Rinko. But Nanami only thinks Gojo is jealous and paranoid.

And it makes things worse because of course Nanami would side with Rinko no matter what because he believes that someone he’s so close to would never hurt him. Again, thanks to Shoko for inserting Geto into that line of thought.

Because guess what guys, by now, Gojo has found out that one of the jobs Rinko went on was to get one of Sukuna’s fingers. Oh, joy. Now, she’s been on a highly dangerous job to get a Special Grade cursed object for the Zenin clan. Honestly, we have to give them some credit for being fucking master manipulators. And Gojo and Rinko for both being fucking stupid.

Because if Rinko had just told Gojo she was going to do a few jobs for the clan to try and get Maki a promotion, he’d have told her he thought it was dumb, but he wouldn’t have stopped her. And if Gojo had just talked to her as soon as his suspicion started, then she would have understood and they’d have figured it out. But alas, they didn’t because they’re both fucking stupid.

And then, Nanami tells him that Rinko will likely forgive Gojo but that he won’t deserve it, and GUESS WHAT, GUYS, we found part of the ROOT of the issue: Gojo knows that already.

In Gojo’s mind, Rinko is too good to be true. She’s put up with him, been there for him, comforted him and has been the only person in his entire life who didn’t expect him to be perfect. And she’s too damn good to be true because why would someone as wonderful as this stupid, infuriating, selfless, menace of a woman ever want anything to do with a selfish asshole like him?

Goodwill Event

The first thing Gojo notices about Rinko? She looks different. Her eyes are dull and she looks exhausted. And he hates that she talks down on herself.

What does he think next? He thinks about how selfless she is about his damn teaching job that he knows damn well Yaga tried to get her to accept so he could get rid of Gojo because he’s an objectively horrible teacher. And then he remembers her laugh. He remembers the day, back in the car, all the way back in Innate Issues, when she’d giggled as the twins and Megumi ganged up on him. And he fucking misses her. And he realizes, right there, that he’s fucking stupid because he’s fucking in love with this woman and he’d been refusing to talk to her and with the kind of person she was, she’d likely understand if he just asks her now.

But Rinko thinks he just sees a Zenin because of her own issues. So she ✨avoids✨ him like it’s an Olympic sport.

And guys, you’re not gonna like what I’m about to say: Gakuganji fucking saved the day by fucking with Rinko’s double. Because it cemented in Gojo’s mind that Rinko couldn’t be part of it. It triggered the protective part of our dumb lil boy’s mind and he went into Even Dumber Boy mode. Because he forgot that Rinko can’t fucking tell he’s not looking at her if his fucking face is right in her face because of the stupid blindfold. Which, he has kept because he wanted to believe in her. And really, he did. Because if he hadn’t believed in her, he wouldn’t have kept it.

So he panics and tells her to stay with Utahime, which is smart. Rinko acknowledges this. Because what did Utahime do as soon as they were in the veil? Activate her technique to give Rinko a boost. Just like Gojo wanted. Except Rinko is too worried about the kids, so she leaves her double to help Mai and Utahime and goes looking for Megumi and Maki.

At this point, Rinko has almost worked herself to death. Guess what, guys? That path is what leads her to the exact same fate as Yuzuki. She’d isolated herself out of shame, which is what Yuzuki partially did after finding out Naobito was married. She’s barely talking to anyone because she knows Nanami is going to meddle, Shoko is going to scold her, and Utahime is still at Kyoto Tech, which Rinko is avoiding. So, she’s isolated, she’s angry at herself, and she’s fucking breaking.

She’s going on every job she can get her hands on to try and put that damned Special Grade 1 status to good use and make a good difference. And she’s taking dangerous jobs to keep others from having to do them. She hasn’t seen the kids because she’s avoiding them because Megumi was upset and she doesn’t want to push him before he is ready to talk. And realistically, she’s hurt and she doesn’t want to be and that makes her angry. Rinko’s got a lot of emotions swirling through her.

And I’ll tell you a behind-the-scenes secret, Rinko has been spending at least one night a week at her mother’s grave when she’s not on a job.

She’s spiraling.

And, let’s not just blame Gojo for not talking to Rinko. Rinko also didn’t reach out to explain what she knew had to have upset him. Because logically, she knew that if she explained what she’d done, he would understand. But she’s too prideful to admit that she’d fucked up.

Gakuganji wasn’t wrong when he said that Rinko wasn’t going to live much longer if she kept going down the path she was on. The fucker is an asshole, but he genuinely doesn’t want to see her dead. Which is why he swallowed his pride and hatred for Gojo to tell him what he knew. Everything he knew. Because he could tell that the two weren’t talking but Gakuganji was key because he knew the catalyst. 

Guess what, guys, Gakuganji always planned to tell Gojo what the fuck was going on at the event. He went in planning to tell him. Because while he doesn’t give a shit about Yuuji, or Sukuna’s Vessel, or Gojo, he does give a shit about Rinko. He didn’t think her double being stabbed would hurt her, and he had no clue that the event would be attacked. So, in his eyes, it was harmless. Going in, Gakuganji did know that when something happened to Rinko, Gojo would get upset and confront him about it.

And so, after Gojo is done interrogating him about that, Gakuganji tells him everything he knows about Rinko’s situation because, as he says, he thinks she’s a foolish girl, but he doesn’t want her to die:

“I think Kurisaki is a fool,” Gakuganji cut him off, flinching slightly when Gojo snarled. “But I don’t want to see her dead. I don’t. And I assumed that when she didn’t sit next to you today, her promotion did what the clan wanted. She- can take care of herself for the most part. But- if she lets her temper control her like she did when she was a teenager- she- she won’t live much longer.”

Rinko notes that Gakuganji has been more of a father to her than her own, even though it was for Naobito. And he does care for her. Remember how proud he was when she made Grade 1? And how badly he wanted her to try to get Special Grade 1? Because he wants her to be successful. And while he hates Gojo, he knows that he will keep her safe from real danger. Remember, Gakuganji pressed that button for her cursed energy as soon as he realized that bad shit was going down.

So, now Gojo has the right pieces for his puzzle, which he’d mostly already deduced at this point. And he’s angry. At the Zenin clan, and at himself for not knowing better.

So what does he do? He loses his temper.

And he launches Hollow Purple at the Special Grade cursed spirit that he knows is very close to two students because, in his mind, it’s a decent substitute for going and doing what he knows would start an actual clan war.

But, as we know, everything that could go wrong with no one dying goes wrong. And he comes to his senses just in time to see Hollow Purple slam into Rinko because she was saving Yuuji’s life because he was an idiot again. And now, he thinks that this is it. He’s done more than enough fucking damage and she’ll never want to see him again because he has royally fucked up in every way he knows how.

Remember that he notes: They really were all bastards who fucking did nothing but let Rinko get caught in the crossfire. Gojo included.

So, at this point, he thinks that the best thing to do is let her push him away after he’s explained what he’s done because she deserves the truth. And then, once she tells him to fuck off, he will.

But she doesn’t tell him to fuck off. She tells him she needs time. And he gets impatient and jumpy and decides that he’s going to do something he’s never fucking done which is really apologize.

The Apology, the Fight, and the Panic Attacks

If you’ve read Rinko’s profile, you’ll know that her two favorite foods are sobayaki dan okonomiyaki and matcha and chocolate taiyaki.

Here’s a fun fact that isn’t explicitly stated anywhere in the series: She only eats matcha and chocolate taiyaki when she’s had a long day or she wants to treat herself. Her mother used to make it for her. Remember that flashback in Double-Edged Words? Most of the time, Rinko gets matcha and red bean taiyaki.

If you’ll briefly remember, in Part 3 of Innate Issues, Gojo specifically notes that the flavor Rinko got was different than what she normally got: 

“That’s different,” he said, nodding towards her taiyaki. “Never seen you-” “It’s been a long day,” she repeated, savoring the matcha and chocolate. “Wanted to treat myself.”

That was two years ago. But he remembered.

Not only that, he’d remembered that she asked for a particular beer somewhere and then he went to Hokkaido to get it. It is four hours from Tokyo to Hokkaido, by the way, guys. So he traveled a total of eight hours to get Rinko a beer because he knew she would appreciate the thought put into it. And she does.

Then, because he’s a dumb, messy lil human who is afraid of rejection for one of the first times in his entire life. He fucking chugs part of that damn beer. Remember the last time he drank? When Rinko wasn’t talking to him.

Gojo drank that time way back in Hollow Echoes because he was afraid of her rejecting him. Because he knew he shouldn’t have taken his anger out on her and he knew she was partially right in ignoring him.

So, when Gojo is afraid that Rinko is really going to see him the way he, and literally everyone else, sees him, he drinks so he doesn’t have to know what’s happening.

And because he’s a lil lightweight, it fucks him up and he stops thinking clearly so that by the time he’s actually apologized, he’s drunk and without his brain working properly, jealousy starts to actually win out. What was he gonna say when she cut him off? He was going to end up fucking telling her he loved her. And it’s a really fucking good thing she cut him off because she would have kicked him out and never spoken to him again. Because she wouldn’t have believed him.

Why? Why wouldn’t she believe him? Because she was angry too. And Rinko was letting her anger and her bitterness around everything that’s been happening, not just with Gojo, fuel her as she argued with him. And the only area Rinko gives him absolutely zero tolerance in is jealousy and she would have thought he was only saying that he loved her because he was jealous. And that would have been the last straw for her, truly. Because in her mind, that would have been the ultimate lie. She already felt like he was lying when he said he cared about her because of how angry she was, just imagine if this idiot had told her he loved her.

Spoiler: It wouldn’t have gone well.

It’s why Gojo fucking knows he can’t ask her to marry him yet. Because she doesn’t believe he could ever be serious about her and he knows it’s his own damn fault. A lot of comments joked that he bought the ring before asking her on a real date, and you’ve got a point. But I’ve said before, Gojo knows the biggest obstacle is just convincing Rinko that he’s serious. This apology was the first step.

Not so fun fact: Gojo was also having a panic attack when he was trying to calm Rinko down. It was why he couldn’t let go. Because she was the only thing that would make it better for him. And his body refused to let go of the only thing that made him feel safe. His chest feeling tight and feeling like he couldn’t breathe either? Yeah, our boy was having a fucking panic attack because he sobered up just in time to see the woman he knew he didn’t deserve, but had still chosen him time and time again, quite literally slipping away.

If Gojo had left before her panic attack, he would have never gone back because he would have believed that she would be better off without him in her life directly. He still would have protected her, and he’d have made it very clear to the Zenin clan that if they touched her again, he’d kill them, but he’d have left her alone.

But he didn’t and she let him stay after she’d calmed down and he felt that hope build again because he needed to. And things aren’t just completely better, but Rinko needed to let that shit out because it wasn’t just the shit with Gojo that she let out with that panic attack. It was the past few months.

Remember what I said about her panic attack in Show Your Hand? She feels safe enough with Gojo to let herself break. She’d been forcing herself to keep going, patching herself back up and pushing herself forward as she broke because she couldn’t let herself break. But with him, when he was holding her her body just knew it could let go and it did. Her body knew she was safe in his arms and so she broke down like she’d needed to for months.

Idk if this even makes sense anymore, but this was a huge turning point for both of them. Rinko is going to make some big strides in her own emotional development because of this. And I’m really excited for you guys to see that. Also, Gojo will keep growing, too. But he’s still gonna be a lil horny boy for Rinko because now he knows he loves her and she’s giving him the chance to really show her that he does. So he’s gonna be horny.

THE LAST THING I WILL SAY:

A lil secret: Gojo realized that Rinko wouldn’t have put up with him for this long if she didn’t feel the same way. Not long after she stayed with him in Silence Louder Than Words and he realized he loved her, he realized that she wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t love him too. But, he’s also realized that because she’s never said anything, and because he knows how aware she is of emotions: that she has likely just accepted that he will never love her back. And it fucking breaks his heart. And it’s why his mind was so quick to tell him to let her go. Because he knows she deserves better than someone she believes will never love her back. But she chooses him anyway and he means it when he says he’ll make this chance fucking count.

So yeah, these two lil idiot humans are so fucking messy and so in love and they’re gonna be okay.

Did this even make any fucking sense?? 🤔🤔

[toxic-potions-productions]

Bitter daughter & regretful father (KNY s4 redraw)

God, these two are so tragic

Also, how the hell did Shinjuro's hair turn out that good ON THE FIRST FUCKING TRY???????????? I am still surprised by that XDD

Anyways, I was kinda in the mood to just draw some Rengoku family stuff. Akari really doesn't like her father after Ruka died, he fell off the deep end, & Kyojuro ALMOST died. Not only does she blame him for her mom's death, but when Kyojuro was in intensive care after the fight with Akaza, she blamed him for that as well. & it wasn't tame like with Ruka, OHHHHHH, NO NO NO NO NO, she reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally lashed out at him for it

Kyo & Senj are hoping that eventually these two talk & squash the beef, but mending bonds with Akari is almost impossible. Since her trust can't be win back so easily. Doesn't matter if he's her blood, she will easily disown & kick him out in a heartbeat if he really screwed up

So, their relationship is on the rocks for a while. But, when the story ends & the demons are gone, then they would've certainly improved by then. Until now, with the demons in the world, things aren't looking too good for the head of the Rengoku family & his only daughter. Which isn't something you can blame Akari for, either, when you think about it Akari is just scared she's gonna get hurt & Shinjuro realizes this isn't what Ruka would want. But, he's just kinda scared to say anything right now. It's gotta happen sooner or later, but in their case, it's probably later

& I'm still having a stroke trying to draw side-view kimonos, fuck me

Here's the original scene, BTW:

I'm gonna be at my IRL BSF's graduation party tomorrow, & since that's also KNY Sunday, I'm gonna have as much fun as I can with her

Cuz I'm gonna be in pAin by the time I get back ಥ_ಥ

Yeah, if you guys don't see any posts for the first few weeks of July after tomorrow, I'm gonna be grieving too much to post anything. I still got alot of drafts to post, too, so leave me alone

Wish me luck! :'D ----------------------------------------

Akari Rengoku by: Me

Shinjuro Rengoku from: Demon slayer

Demon slayer by: Koyoharu Gotouge

Do not steal, trace or copy.

[august-blogs]

uhh life 7/7/2024

-7/7/2010 was my due date. I was born 10 days late. I would come up with something poetic to say but it's late and I have no ideas. (Maybe I was born late because I knew the world wasn't a nice place to be. Nvm that's shit lmao. I sound like rupi kaur 😭)

-im turning 14 in 10 days. Crazy. Fucking crazy.

-since they moved where my camp is barely any of my friends from the last 2 years will be there :( like I'm still excited but I'm also really sad. I don't wanna meet new people lmao I like my old friends that I only see once a year

-my great grandparents have dementia. They live in the memory care unit of an assisted living. It always smells terrible in the halls and my grandma can't remember how to tie off a bracelet. This is hell.

-this fourth of July was maybe the worst one ever. I just felt kinda depressed and I wasn't doing anything for it and it just felt really somber compared to either last year or the year before where I went to a cookout with one of my best friends and we swam and watched fireworks and I slept over at her house and. It felt like old times. Something I kind of desperately need more of. But alas.

-i realized recently that I like complaining about church more than actually being at church. It doesn't help I don't talk to the one other person my age there cause we dated and broke up. But also they think they're such social justice warriors. In the visitors pamphlet it says something about like "we will fight for what's right etc. etc." like. You haven't mentioned Palestine in like 4 months and you constantly pat yourselves on the back for being one of the first open and affirming churches in the area. Like that was fifteen years ago. Get over it. Remember you can always do better.

-anyway I guess I'm gonna make some resolutions or a list of things to do before I turn 15 :p. I'll clue you in on those when that happens

But yeah. I'll write something better soon. I just want this to be a semi-active sideblog lol and I can make that happen by blogging

🎧: Dark Alley-Fall Out Boy, Disorder-Joy Division, Love Will Tear Us Apart-Joy Division, I miss you-blink 182, silver springs-Fleetwood Mac, good luck babe!-chapell roan

[floosies]

Radio

early 2000s au

eddie munson x poc!oc

warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing, eventual smut, mentions of abuse, friends to lovers 18+

a/n: i feel like i should explain i'm writing this the way i remember acting as a teenager and how i remember my friends behaving, i feel like teenage angst should be honest no matter how dumb is it looking back at it. also this is gonna be a longer chapter.

Junior Year, 2008

Something had happened during the first couple of months of junior year. Eddie wasn't acting the way he usually had been last year. She noticed it happening before her. He had started ditching again to the point he just wasn't showing up most of the week. His replies were either paragraphs long or nothing and no calls anymore. He wouldn't talk to her at parties anymore either, just sell what he came with and head out.

In his head, Eddie was trying to spare her from his bullshit. His dad been trying to get him to go clear his name at his upcoming trial. Trying to push some bullshit about his mom and how she would have wanted him to do that for her. He hung up on him then and there, he remembered the countless times the psycho smacked his mom around like a ragdoll. He never forgot how he would hold his mom after his dad would leave her with bloody noses or a busted lip. She died trying to get away from him and it was some shit Eddie would never forgive his dad for.

He wanted to do right by Julie and his uncle, but people around Hawkins already saw him one way so it didn't really matter what happened with school. The thing he had left was the band and that was gonna be his ticket out. This was the year he was gonna try to get them onto the warped tour setlist. Fuck school and a diploma, it wouldnt mean shit compared to a platinum record and touring around the world.

Still he tried to do some justice by her, showing up to his classes. Not really doing shit but not causing a stir either. Julie was happy to see him sort of going back to his old self. She tried to figure out what happened and why he'd been awol for the last couple weeks. He brushed her off, and while she didn't wanna admit it, it hurt like hell to have him treat her like that.

Jeff had noticed how his friend had been off with her and at one the band practices he did his best to let her know that she was probably the only girl he actually cared about. Still it didn't feel like it sometimes, and either way they were just friends. As she watched them practice she realized it was probably time to drop whatever she thought was happening.

That weekend she didn't even text him where she was going to be at. They had started going to backyard shows together, usually it was where they'd be if she wasn't feeling up to partying. He started wondering where the hell she was tonight, her calls were going to voicemail and she wasnt replying to her messages. By nine he had messaged everyone he knew about where the parties were at this week, but the only party was at some abandoned house in the woods.

Liquor and weed is a hell of a good way to forget whatever makes you feel like shit. That was something Julie had learned her freshman year of high school, even before Eddie was in the picture, she felt like she was fucking everything up. Her parents had no problem verbally and emotionally abusing her, telling her what she could do better or how they had gave up their dreams for her. None of that shit mattered here, the music was blasting her eardrums and jungle juice was being poured to her by people she never hung out with in school.

It took Eddie a while to find her in-between all the people she was around. Her friend was the first person to notice him, she tried to get Julie's attention, when she eventually did, she pointed at him. Julie turned to look at him waving at her. She just nodded acknowledging him, but not really caring. Maybe he had that coming for how he had been with her lately but it still hurt like hell.

He knew it looked weird to follow her around, but he did it anyways. He didn't want any weirdo near her, usually she was with his friends or nearby him at parties so it wasn't that big of a deal. Eventually she pulled him aside to an empty-ish spot, her head jumbled by everything she'd consumed, she tried her best to sound somewhat sober, "dude I don't know why you're following me. Go have fun like everyone else." Julie had resigned herself to whatever was going to come from this.

Eddie looked at her confused the music was too loud, his head tilting down and his right hand gently gripping her upper arm, "I don't know anyone here. I came because I wanted to talk to you, you havent answered any of my texts or calls." He pulled away, her gaze following his, frustration and every other emotion building up, "is there anything to really be said? I mean you've brushed me off all week. Like cool I know that life is shit but you don't have to be a dick." She shrugged, "listen I just wanna have a good night tonight, I'm not arguing with you here." He shook his head, his voice defeated as he spoke to her, "I don't wanna argue either. I know I've been a dick lately, I'm sorry. Julie you're the coolest fuckin person ever, please I don't want you to be mad at me. I'll do anything! I'll fuckin get on my knees and beg." To which he actually did, this making her laugh and forcing him to get up off the dirt beneath them.

She hated how she couldn't be mad at him. How quickly she made up with him, but Eddie was just someone she couldn't deny. He spent the rest of the night dancing with her and following her around. The night didn't end as planned, Julie had gone to go get her friend away from some guy who was overdoing it, to which he tried to yell at her about cock blocking. Eddie threw one punch and the guy was out, but it caused enough of a scene for them to leave the party early. Julie knew he meant well so she didn't really hold the situation against him and even her friend had thanked him.

-

What neither of them expected was that he would run into the guy at school the following week. He was mostly just shit talking Eddie and his friends, which they were all used to, but by Thursday it had gotten ridiculous. At lunch time Eddie had become fed up of the guy, it was the same insults and shit talk about how it wasn't even a fair fight because he was drunk. The guy followed them to their table in the back of the cafeteria and kept at his bullshit, so biting the bullet Eddie finally told him to "stop barking like a bitch and accept the fact he got knocked out" to which the guy threw his backpack at him. Both her friend and one of Eddie's stopped her from getting in the middle of it as soon as it had started.

Eddie didn't wanna have problems with anyone but this guy had pushed all the buttons. First there was the incident at the party and now he had gone too far, he let the dickhead throw the first swing, which he missed and then swung back. The punches kept going back and forth just trying to get a hit in where ever either of the two could land. He wasn't sure when it happened during the fight, but this guy had thrown his skateboard off him. He'd been carrying it between the straps of his backpack for most of the day before the guy knocked off him.

It happened in less than minute but the action felt like slow-mo. She saw Eddie grab his board and swing it at the guy's face, like that scene in Wanted. The board broke and all that anyone heard was the crack of the wood. People scattered, her friend and Eddie's tried to get her to scatter, but she couldn't or wouldn't, Julie was frozen in her seat at the table. Both the principal and some teachers had showed up, someone called for an ambulance and she was taken to the office as a witness of the fight.

-

The yelling could be heard from the nearly quiet front office, everyone was trying to find out what happened. Staff even tried asking Julie, who still chose not to say anything. She knew Eddie could have a temper but she'd never seen it like that before. He might have done it now, but she was hoping for the best. Eddie and his uncle had been in there for a while with the principal.

She was waiting on her mom to get there. It irritated her that they had called for their parents. Mostly because she knew her mom would hold this situation against her, use it as more ammo against her social life and reason to have her sent to a private school. When her mom finally showed up and sat behind her she started her rambling, "you know Wayne was the better half of him and his brother. Poor man, he should have left that brat to the system." Julie was sure she hated her mother by that point.

After nonstop claim after claim that Hawkins was heading down the drain, it came to halt as the door to the principal's office opened and out came the Munson men looking slightly defeated and annoyed. The principal then called for Julie to come in, her mother giving Eddie's uncle a small hello before entering the office. It didn't take long to figure out that whatever she said was going to royally fuck things up for Eddie if she didn't word it right.

Ultimately she ended up calling the situation self defense even if it did go too far, that she blamed on teenage boys being hormonal and dumb. Her mother wasn't buying it, she kept repeating to her to be honest, which Julie had to assure the principal she actually was being as honest to the situation as she could be. When it was over with Eddie and his uncle got called back in. By then Julie and her mom had left, and he was given a week's suspension, told that he got lucky he was still seventeen (by some months) and that he needed to get himself straightened out.

As Eddie and his uncle left the school premises, they walked out to a shouting match between Julie and her mom. He heard as Julie argued that she wasn't defending him so much as that's just how things really happened. He knew her mom like the rest of the town mostly hated him, but this was as close as he figured she could get to looking out for him. What he didn't expect was to see her mom smack her, before he could even react Wayne had already gone over there.

The two adults were having it out like they knew each other, which maybe in a past life they did. Julie ended up going to talk to Eddie while they spoke, "sorry you had to see that." He shook his head, "are you okay? What the fuck is wrong with her?" She shrugged, "so much for pretending to be a caring mother." He wanted to hold her then and there but he had to stop himself knowing it'd probably get her in more trouble. Eventually the conversation ended and Julie left with her mom still yelling at her. Wayne told Eddie that some people never change.

-

That weekend she didn't go out, she got grounded, her parents took her phone, but left her laptop so she could do homework. Again she was thankful they had no clue how the internet worked. She ended up messaging him on myspace for the rest of the night on Friday and learning that his band had a gig on Saturday. Julie didn't know it, but the way she had vouched for him had taken on a bigger effect on Eddie than what she could have imagined.

He spent that weekend dedicating the band's sets to her, one of his friends recording the videos for their youtube page while she was locked away in her room. Eddie knew he was fucked, he was falling head over heels for a girl he'd only met last year, but it didn't matter, in his mind, he'd known her a whole fucking life time. Even his friends hyped her up for the way she defended him and didn't leave the scene. His uncle felt bad for her, he said he'd known her mom when she their age and she'd really taken a turn. However, his uncle felt that what Julie had done meant a hell of alot more than what most would have done considering it was Eddie. That was all the reassurance he needed to have to know that she was the one.

At the same time as he was coming to realize this, the band was looking for a way in and while he was sure he could multitask, his focus had always been getting out of Hawkins. Now he had to account for an extra stowaway, which he didn't have a problem with at all.

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, JULY 30, 1990 Yesterday was one hell of a day. To start off with, I slept only 3 hours. When I got up at 11:00, I felt like shit and was bottled up with a lot of stress as I’ve been through so much bullshit lately.

Brenda told me that we were gonna leave at 12:30 to go to this lake with a little beach in Ludlow and that Bonny and Dave decided not to go. So it got close to 2:00, and Bonny still wasn’t back yet so I figured she was angry with me and that’s why she was doing it cuz originally she wanted Brenda with Bonny’s sister Gail, but Gail’s got a girlfriend, and Brenda said long before she met me she wouldn’t really feel comfortable dating Gail cuz they were too good of friends. Brenda says she feels like they’re sisters and it would almost be like incest. Also, Bonny’s the type that likes to do things her way only. So, finally Bonny came back and I called her by phone and she said she didn’t want to talk and I knew right away it was cuz she knew I was mad and that I was right, but couldn’t handle that so it was easier for her to “hide” as she says I do. So I screamed out my open window and into theirs that it was ok for her to be a bitch but God help anybody else if they’ve got something to say. And there’s a lot more to it, meaning a lot of other shit she’s said but I’m not gonna waste my time getting into it, but it’s too bad cuz we’ve had some good talks and she’s otherwise a nice girl. To wrap it up though, after me and Brenda got back from Ludlow, Bonny comes running out as we were coming up the stairs bitching about how I cussed her out and said what I had to say about her smart mouth and false assumptions she’s made about me (she’s jealous of Brenda spending time with me and not with her and Gail), and also, I think Tom filled her head with bullshit. She was saying that they were getting evicted and that if I wanted to fight we could go outside as she went to jump me. Before I could jump her back, Brenda and Dave stepped between us and I really wish they hadn’t cuz I would’ve fucked this bitch up badly and she would’ve deserved it 100%.

Afterward, we talked about it on the phone and she told me she has PMS. But that was no excuse to lunge at me, and she’s lucky they stepped in our way. I told her I’d beat her silly if this happened again, but if not, I’d like to put it in the past and forget it. She said she already has, and asked that I not dump Brenda out of anger.

SUNDAY, JULY 29, 1990 I’m so pissed! I’m going through the same bullshit on this antibiotic being so restless. I can’t sleep for the life of me. At first, I thought it was me and said to myself, “What is wrong with me?” Until I realized what was going on. I slept less than 5 hours yesterday, too. Also, all night long I was exhausted and I figured I’d sleep pretty well. I mean, I do have something on my mind, but still, this is ridiculous.

Speaking of something being on my mind, well, today’s Sunday. Another day of depressing news about the band.

As I was up all night I realized something about myself. Well, people say not to be so negative and to be more positive and I realized sometimes I am positive as well as negative but either way, anything I really want or try for that means a lot to me comes out negative. Seriously. I always fall flat on my ass whether I think positive or negative so what difference does it make how I think? None at all. I know for sure I didn’t make it in this band but make pretend I was all psyched up for it thinking, “I know I won. I just have to win. I know I’ve made this band.” In the long run, it always turns up negative. Yeah, well, no more jokes on me cuz today I know just what to expect. I don’t fool myself or lie to myself either. Same thing if I met a beautiful gay woman like Gloria that was single and looking. I would never get her whether I thought positive and pursued her or hoped she pursued me or if I thought negative.

SATURDAY, JULY 28, 1990 This was the day 9 years ago that I was admitted to the Brattleboro Retreat till December 19th. It’s so hard to believe it was a whole 9 years ago. And it was 8 years ago around this day, this month that I was admitted to Valleyhead and 6 years ago I left.

Well, last night was the finals at the Frontier and several people are pretty pissed off including me, Brenda, Andy, Andy’s sister Marla and others. Once again it was 100% fixed just like the Pub. 500-pound Sue, who looked totally ridiculous, won. Rachel, whom I hear was boring, got second place. Renee got third. Renee is good, though, and so is Bruce who decided at the last minute he was going to perform. I’m telling you, when it comes to amateur productions in a meat marketplace they fuck over any decent person who’s got talent. Another thing is that they hate real women. They’re jealous. Plus, it’s all about popularity, too. Sue’s an ass-kisser and knows everybody and probably fucks everyone and parties with everyone. She has been nice to me, though. She bought me an $11 pair of shoes I needed for Vogue, helped me with my hair and made all the people that lost flowers. It’s still not fair though. They’ve fixed these things before on me, Andy and many others. Of course, Dedra will win the finals at the Pub.

Also, Brenda told me one of the judges they call Roxy gave her dirty looks and Brenda overheard her say, “Oh, she’s just using Jodi,” in the bathroom. All bitter, spite and jealousy cuz she’s not a real woman and the bitch can’t sing. I can’t wait to confront this bitch. I never even saw or met this queen before in my life and neither has Brenda. Andy knows her, though.

Andy’s sister Marla videotaped the show so I’ll have to see it. Andy says he liked my singing and so did many other people and yes, there are a lot of good honest caring people there but always the one or two jerks get in the way and fuck everyone and everything up.

In the dressing room, Bruce and a few other people said they were pissed Roxy was one of the judges cuz she’s unfair. They also lied when they said the judges wouldn’t know anyone and there’d be no favoritism. Everyone said Carl’s singing sucked. I feel he hit some very high powerful notes well but yes, he went quite flat on a few notes and really poured it out too much. I did have a lot of fun with rehearsals and the performance and I do have true and sincere friends there, but life sucks and it’s just not fair. Now all I have to do is wait for Sunday so I can hear some more depressing news about that band Cue. That’s if they even call me, and you know what that means if I’m the one who has to pick up the phone and call them.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 25, 1990 I got up at 3pm and had therapy at 4pm which went quite well.

Yesterday I sang quite well as the Ceftin has been helping me as far as draining my congestion.

Brenda enjoys it when I sing for her. Yesterday Brenda and I talked, watched TV, went to Food Fart and made love. I am getting more and more comfortable with her and I feel less and less tense and awkward. I tell her I feel guilty cuz she does so much for me and I was such a bitter crab in the beginning, but she says she understands me and that you can never do too much for someone you really care about. Here’s someone who loves me for me and who’s had problems but isn’t whacked out. Of course, we’re gonna give it time before we discuss living together. That’s a mega-major step.

She is great in bed, too.

Bill’s here now with his students. I hope we can sing later cuz I couldn’t Monday. I was too sick and thank God for Brenda who took care of all that so I could sleep.

Tomorrow night I have rehearsals, then Friday night’s the big night.

As far as the band, I won’t know until Sunday as they’ve had tons of calls but I called Mr. Grant who’s black. The whole band is, except for the manager Dave, which I think is neat. I said, “I don’t mean to be impatient or pushy, but I’m excited about this. How does it look?” He said not bad. I’ll just keep hoping and praying with my fingers crossed till Sunday.

TUESDAY, JULY 24, 1990 Yesterday morning I went to the ER since the Cipro I was given made me so restless. Brenda took me to the ER and both Dr. McGovern and Dr. Mudawar met us there. McGovern gave me something called Ceftin as I have bronchitis. It has been extremely hot and humid and the air is so polluted.

My two mice, Gremlin and Gizmo, are going bonkers for attention just like Tigger does, and most especially of all, Toffee. They were given to me by Bonny, Brenda’s 20-year friend. They’ve known each other since they were 10 and they’re both 30 now. Bonny’s ugly and butchy looking, but is seeing a black guy.

Today’s the day I get called either way as far as a yes or a no about the audition. Like I said, I tend to be doubtful as it usually takes many auditions before you get lucky. Everyone goes through that whether they’re great singers, mediocre or sucky and whether they stay local or get big-time famous.

MONDAY, JULY 23, 1990 Jesus Christ! I’m so pissed off. I can’t sleep to save my life. I cannot stand summer. It’s so fucking humid. I eat and sleep weirdly in the winter, but not this weird.

Today at 2:00, I have to go to the allergy and asthma Dr. Also, Bill’s supposed to be here and I’ve got to find out what time so someone can let him in if it runs into my appointment. I really should schedule my GYN and dentist and get a complete physical. And also, I’ve got some very serious house cleaning to do and laundry. Then the last and kind of scariest thing on the list is to call SIS and find out how I screwed up my book and bounced something. And these things with the bank always turn out to be worse than you originally thought. If it’s true, I’ll die. I’ll get absolutely no help from Mom, plus we had a huge fight. What else is new?

I have to wait till Tuesday as far as a yes or no to getting in the band Cue I mentioned. They were definitely impressed and the manager said so but for everything you do well, there’s always someone better. My singing was ok but it could’ve been better. It was extremely hot and humid that day. Like almost 100º. They liked my pitch, my keyboard playing but of course, I told them I was better at guitar. Also, they liked my singing in Spanish, my ability to dance, and my looks. They’re very friendly too, and they don’t make you nervous. Even though it looked good for me, I’m always a doubter until proven wrong and something does work out for the better.

THURSDAY, JULY 19, 1990 Oh my God, has the 90s been a major change, or what? For the better, that is, so far. I was telling Martha this today in therapy, and about how the 80s was a definite curse for me. She laughed her ass off at the way I said it even though we both know it’s true. She also cracked up at the way I said, “I should know, sweetheart.”

The lessons here with Bill are going great still, and also, Paula comes over or I go over there and I still speak with Fran, Tracy, Steve, Jessie, Dedra and of course Andy. We don’t hear too much from Nervous, though. This girl, Jackie, I met when I was working at the store, is supposed to come over for a visit but I don’t know when as I’ve been unusually busy but it feels great. I’ve also got to see Allison at the store sometime.

Also, sometime tomorrow I believe I’ll be going for a top 40 band audition.

SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1990 I had rehearsals today and I will again next Saturday. It was a lot of fun. Loopy didn’t show up again, and also Rachel and Carl, whose name I thought was Chuck, was late again. Thank God cuz Carl is an excellent singer and I’ve heard Rachel’s good although I’ve never seen her perform. Carl and I will be the only ones to sing live. Renee may possibly sing live though, too. They changed the prizes for the finals, and the date, too. It’ll be the 27th, rather than the 28th. Also, instead of $1,000 for the winner, it’ll be $500 for 1st place, runner-up gets $300 and 3rd place gets $200.

As far as Brenda’s concerned, well, she is attractive, though not the most attractive, of course, cuz that’s just a dream, yet she really does care, loves my music, we have lots in common, but she smothers me too much and I need to spend more time alone than the average person. If it was someone as gorgeous as Gloria then that’d be different, but like I said, that’s just a dream. Especially in the gay world. Trying to find a very beautiful, sexy, feminine, flashy gay woman that’s decent is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. She’s far from ugly though and life is full of compromises, right?

WEDNESDAY, JULY 11, 1990 As I lay here waiting for my edits to rewind, I realize I have so much to write about and that I really should keep up with it every day so I get in all the details of everything and so I don’t have to stop and ask myself, “Am I covering everything that’s happened since my last entry?” And also, “Have I written about this or that yet, or have I forgotten?”

First I’ll start out by saying that the lessons over here are going great. Bill’s here twice a week and his students are very nice and it’s fantastic getting free lessons. That’s $36 I save. I’ve only had two lessons so far from Bill but already he’s working his miracles once again. My voice is so relaxed and he’s doing exercises that help to widen my range. More soprano-like, even though I’m a definite contralto. It’s a lot of fun and I feel great about it.

Well as far as my edits go, I have one hell of a classic masterpiece here. I’ve completed side A and have started side B. It’s mainly Nervous as he’s got the best voice for it being a sack of nerves “choking up on his breath” as Fran’s brother Rick put it a year ago. The tape contains me, Andy, Fran, Nervous, Rick, Tracy, Tony L, and this other guy. My uncle Marty’s on it, too.

Now everything I just wrote is basically petty detail so now I’m gonna mention two things that will be the greatest and most shocking things I’ve written in all my journals combined. Before I do though, I’ll say that on July 28th I hope I can write something even more great and shocking to top what I’m about to write. Last June 21st on a Friday night, it was a last-minute decision for me to perform at the Pub and the Frontier. Now, the Pub’s contest is strictly lip sync, but the Frontier’s contest was talent, meaning you could sing live if you want to. I won $125 between the Pub and the Frontier! I lip sang Si Voy a Perderte at the Pub and sang live Don’t Wanna Lose You at the Frontier. I got such a major response from the audience too, it was amazing, and I felt so confident too, and really, really enjoyed myself. There were several weeks at both places and I don’t know when the finals will be at the Pub but the finals at the Frontier will be July 28th and me and Andy are both in it competing together for $1,000! The one at the Pub is gonna be for $500, but like I said, I don’t know when yet. I’m gonna sing Si Voy a Perderte live.

Last Saturday we had rehearsals for the opening song, Vogue, that we’re all doing and funny enough, I am the lead dancer. We have rehearsals again next Saturday. Last Saturday, Bruce, Chuck and Rachel didn’t show up so they lost points and I hate to say it but I was glad cuz they’re great performers. The MC, Wally, made us pick a number out of a hat and I picked 6 so that means I’ll be the sixth one to perform. Andy was number 2 which pissed him off, and now he’s even more pissed cuz he’s number 1 as Bruce is now refusing to perform when Andy told him he’d be number 1 at his store today. They say it isn’t good to be number 1-4 cuz the judges tend to forget about you once they get up in numbers. I just hope to hell Chuck and Rachel don’t show up, but then again, I’m sure Renee will and she’s good. There are going to be 4 judges and so Wally says they cannot fix it or play any favoritism, but my main worry is Chuck cuz he’s gonna sing live and he is good. I mean good. And also, he’s not a real woman.

Later…

I thought I had therapy today, but I guess not. When I went down there today Martha was nowhere to be found and the receptionist whom I know but keep forgetting her name said she’s got me written down for tomorrow at 10:00. Why I don’t know, cuz she told me she was changing the time to late afternoon at 4:00. Rose said she’d call me later.

Bill is here now with Cindy who’s pretty good, but he also has some sorry cases. I bet he can make them all good, though, after all he’s done for me.

Brenda’s gone to Palmer for the night to babysit her son, daughter, a foster child, and 3 other kids who all live with her sister Donna and her brother-in-law Kevin V. He’s a cab driver who used to know Crystal C.

Since I haven’t yet written about 30-year-old Brenda S, I’ll start by saying that I met her through Tom next door, who she was seeing and also living with till he moved out. She’s 5’ 6” with dark eyes and dark hair to the middle of her back. She’s a quarter Cherokee. She’s too thin, too. I had met her many weeks before we actually had begun speaking to each other and noticed her very, very intense stare as I was coming into the building and she and Tom were on their way up from the laundry room and to the apartment next to me. So finally, several weeks later, she came over and said, “I don’t mean to be personal, but are you gay?” When I said yes, she told me she was bi and that she liked Tom but that he can be very immature at times since he’s only 18 and very vulnerable. She also told me she had been married for 10 years and of course, like most males, he beat her up and used her for sex and he also fucked her over as far as the kids go. Also, the courts screwed her over just like they always do when it comes to women and children. They’re living with her sister and Kevin who have been married 10 years and they seem happy and Brenda’s glad they’re still in the family even though she misses them to death.

[zentloper-xmas]

Merry Christmas, y’all!

How do you write a Christmas letter for a year like this year? I won’t lie to you, it hasn’t been a fun year for the most part. But thanks to my family and a move, it hasn’t been a total bust either.

The biggest news is the house in Austin, TX. Well, Buda to be specific, which is a “smaller” berg south of Austin– bigger in quotes because it’s definitely growing, where growing = refuge for the mass exodus of Californians. We’ve been greeted, sassed, and everywhere in between from native Texan folk as a result. Nah, for the most part, everyone’s extremely friendly, especially those on our street who have welcomed us to the neighborhood.

The move happened in August. The touring and paperwork happened in July. In an… interesting turn of events, my parents decided “fuck it” and bought a home for the purpose of being a “landing pad” for myself and my partner, Neil, as well as my brother, Riordan, and his wife, Shawna. So technically, we’re renting. But the hassle of a cross-country move is over, and hell was that a hassle. I’d never done a long-distance move before, let alone across multiple states. And being the collector I am, I had A LOT of boxes. But it’s been really fun getting to unpack all those boxes and decorate an entire home!

At any rate, I’m endlessly thankful to be in the position we are now. And to my folks’ charity, who saw fit to use their stable financial position to give us all an opportunity. Previously we’d been occupying Neil’s parents’ secondary domicile. Once we moved out, they were able to put their home up on the market and sold quickly!– even during a pandemic, the Bay Area remains a hot housing market, for whatever reason… considering most tech companies are largely remote now.

Something that should have been big news but felt like a big fizzle was my graduation. I finished my Master’s program in May of this year (then SJSU proceeded to take forever to send out our degrees… how does it take FIVE months to mail a piece of paper??). I was halfway through my remaining class when COVID-19 struck, such that we muddled the remaining eight weeks out remotely before calling it good. Of course this meant no graduation ceremony or in-person acknowledgement of my accomplishment of any kind. No photos. No cap and gown. No balloons. Wasn’t even able to get together with my 2017 cohort for a send-us-off. Well, my parents did get me a cake after they saw how melancholic I was. I still just feel jipped.

So does my mom on that front, considering she’s a lecturer “at” UC Merced (notice those quotes again!). She misses the in-person classes and student interaction that made the job fulfilling. She actually had me film, edit, and upload all her lectures on YouTube so her students can learn remotely. So now she just attends office hours and meetings through Zoom. She and my dad were here in Texas for about a month, and it was actually easier for her because the internet connection was better here than Patterson, CA. LOL. Dad’s actually, factually, fully retired… for realsies this time! All the remote work was reason enough for him to finally pull that trigger. Now he struggles to figure out what to do with his free time– kidding, he just hits those home projects 100% harder now, ha.

Actually BIG news is my sister-in-law’s pregnancy! I’m gonna be an uncle… and really soon! She’s due early January. So 2021 is going to be very different with a baby in the house. Probably a good thing– I need some practice for my own eventual kiddos. We are all SO EXCITED to be welcoming a new addition to the Zentler brood, as it were.

Foolishly, though I knew it not at the time, I chose this year to set a goal to run 2020 miles this year. I got to complete a half marathon in January as well as another in February, but the one scheduled for March sadly got the axe. Thankfully our new hometown sponsored a small 5K “turkey trot” event over Thanksgiving. As of typing this, I’m a mere 100 miles from completion! So that’s a personal success.

I miss working at the theme park. I was all set up to be an Entertainment Supervisor for costumed characters going into the 2020 season. Thus far with all the stringent regulations California has in place, few entertainment venues have been able to do business, Great America included. For now I remain partially employed (contract work) with SEMI– a global industry association for semiconductors– mostly involved with website content management and marketing endeavors. Neil and Riordan are both employed with overnight graveyard gigs to help pay the bills.

Fun is still allowed in Texas, to the extent that safety isn’t compromised. The fam has been able to attend fun outdoor events like a corn maze/pumpkin patch, renaissance fair, tattoo expo, traveling carnival, and plenty of new tasty restaurants. To get in the spooky spirit in October, we even set-up our own haunted house walkthrough experience in the garage and handed out frozen popsicles to the kiddos– there were a lot of trick-or-treaters! We also have fun at home; the family enjoys playing board games and video games together most nights, and trying out new recipes in the kitchen. Here’s one of our favorites so far for Cranberry Orange Shortbread Cookies!: https://www.recipegirl.com/cranberry-orange-shortbread-cookies/

We hope all is well with you and yours (as much as possible), and that 2021 treats ALL OF US a whole lot better,

-Rick & Neil

[kithtaehyung]

anytime (3tan) (m) | myg

title: anytime pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that  rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: your brother is finally back. which makes for a bunch of conflicting worries that you may need to address. warnings: angst, yoongi in general lol, lots of dialogue i’m so sorry, tae being a menace, yoongi on the phone, 3tan sibling scenes!!, thinking thinking, jimin being jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, sl*t mentions, did i say yoongi on the phone?, alcohol, house party, so many interactions, just… yoongi🥺 note: ah.. well. it’s finally here. thank you endlessly to @sugakookitty​​ for being the angel beta you are, and thank you all for being so patient and understanding as i worked on this while still recovering from the writing process of dalo! i know it’s been a minute, so. i worked like hell on this the past week. if you haven’t read any of the three tangerines series yet, i highly recommend reading those first! it will make so much more sense lol note 2: saving the rest of my thoughts for the end bc i have many! just enjoy :D  total word count: 16k+ release date: july 23rd, 2022, 2:17pm est 

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Back to normal.

With the coming of one, singular sunrise, everything has gone back to normal. 

Curling your fingers into worn sheets, you stare unblinking at the space once occupied. At the way the material has bunched in frozen peaks and valleys, previously crinkled by passion and loudly unspoken feelings. 

Whatever transpired just hours ago will be imprinted on your soul forever. You may even wear it on your sleeve, if only to remind yourself that something shifted between the hours of suspense and shelter. 

Because Yoongi didn’t just let you into his place last night. 

He let you into his heart. 

Through his actions, his decisions, his words. All of them served as a door, his eyes the windows that couldn’t lie about what they contained. 

You don’t know much still. And you will come to deny a lot more. But one thing is for sure: since you stepped foot inside, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to leave just yet. 

Or ever. 

Fucking hell, your chest feels so hollow it’s a wonder you’re still functioning—

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” 

Your eyes snap to your open doorway.

“Sup.”

What.

What.

Catapulting yourself out of bed, you’re already warring with yourself on whether to go out there or not. Because what the fuck is happening? 

Why is Yoongi still here?

You skid to a halt at your entryway, as if the edge of a cliff is millimeters from your toes.

It may as well be. You seem to be in freefall already.

Bits of conversation can be heard from where you stand, and you strain your ears to pick up every single word you can grab from down the hall.

“—happening?” 

“Relax. Something went down last night.” 

“What the fuck. Here?” 

“Dalo.” 

“The fuck happened? Why didn’t anyone—” 

“Jimin took care of it.” 

Your brows could kiss from being so close. 

What the hell is going on?

One, why is Yoongi talking so calmly? Two and three and four, why isn’t your brother as loud as you thought he’d be? 

“He was there, too?” 

“Yeah. But she’s okay. I’ll head out now.” 

Fuck fuck fuck your heart is already suffering from how you woke up. Because you never got a chance to say goodbye.

And now it’s gonna happen a second time? 

Do you step out? Do you stay there? Can you handle either one of those options?

Your feet are already moving on their own accord, oversized shirt slightly catching in the wind you make in your approach.

Wait, when did you even put clothes on? You don’t remember a single thing after…

Stop. You can’t worry about that now. Right at this moment, you just need to see him. 

Because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.

Their voices are a lot clearer the closer you get to the main hallway.

“K. You good?” 

“What? Yeah.” 

“Okay. Thanks for looking out, dude. Fuck.” 

“No sweat. Apparently she didn’t even need us. Almost fought him herself.” 

You freeze midstep as your brother huffs a small sound. 

“That right?” 

“Yeah, Chim was saying something like that.” 

“Good to know. She could whoop my ass if she wanted to, honestly.” 

Yoongi’s hum of amusement is nothing but agreeable. “She should.” 

“Bitch. Outta my house.” 

They both laugh and start saying goodbye, which pulls your feet into the hall completely. Standing. Staring. Probably an absolute wreck but you don’t care. 

Yoongi’s shoulder taps your brother’s before he spots you, and you can tell that he didn’t expect you to be awake. 

All the oxygen is yanked from your lungs as his eyes still on your awaiting form, but you can’t do anything because you get another look and greeting,

“Morning!”

“Morning,” you croak, voice chipped and hollow. 

Eyes sliding back to Yoongi, you wanna say a lot more than that. But words are all competing against each other and clogging up your throat—because you can’t.

How do you thank someone for being so perfect? How do you show what you want to say without confessing something no one else present should hear? 

An entire glossary of terms jams inside your teeth, black letters staining your tongue. In the end, you settle with, 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Your airway seizes. Ducts burn.

Don’t react. You cannot. No matter how hard your heart is clenching right now, you cannot make this seem like anything more than gratitude.

Despite it being so, enormously more than that. 

You nod, which Yoongi takes as a cue to regard your brother. “See ya.” 

“We’ll catch up later.” 

Your overnight guardian agrees with a nod of his own, and you wonder if he thought about looking at you one more time before departing, or didn’t think about it at all. 

When the door shuts, it’s like a switch that triggers you to spin around and head back to your—

“Hey, come here.”

Goddamn it. 

“Hold on,” you rush out as you back around a corner, palms rubbing your eyes before steeling your lack of any resolve. After seconds, you make your way back to the front.

Only to get crushed in a hug, arms encasing and smushing you into a fresh tee.

Because of what happened, because your heart is in halves, or because of your brother being the stupid, soft idiot he is sometimes, you don’t push him away. Maybe it’s all three and something extra. But you exhale deep, feet still, trying incredibly hard to not to show anymore tears.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Brows pinched, you shift your head. “You would’ve gotten arrested.”

“Did you have a good time before that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, at least.” 

Though the moment is needed, something feels odd. 

Normally, this would be the part where he goes back to his normal, judgmental, assumptive self. Something about “you were still there” or “you still could’ve avoided it somehow.” 

But he doesn’t say anything like that this time. 

What’s up with him? 

Breathing in, you smell his familiar cologne before asking, “Isn’t this the part where you yell at me.”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” he admits before loosening his hold. “But nah, not at you.” 

“Good. Because I’ll just yell at you, too,” you sigh. After he scoffs, you extricate yourself and add, “If I wasn’t so tired.” 

“You okay, though?” 

“Yeah.” You step away and he lets you, and you use that opening to head into the kitchen. 

Do you feel like cooking? No. But it’ll be a good distraction. From how you feel, from last night, and from this already strange morning.

“You sure?”

Opening the fridge, you take some things out while repeating, “Yeah. Yoongi and Jimin were there.” 

“I heard.”

You set down all your items, moving to fetch a pan as your brother leans against a counter with his arms crossed. Interest somewhat piqued, you wonder why he’s burning holes into the perfectly fine tile. 

Why is he acting like this? Why hasn’t he even asked about Yoongi? 

“What were you wearing?”

“Excuse me?” 

There he is.

“Was it what you wore—”

“You know damn well what I wore doesn’t matter, so quit asking,” you bite, slamming the pan down a lot harder than you intended. Or just as hard.

Infuriating. Even though your brother is overprotective as fuck, he should know better than that. Wasn’t he just asking if you had fun? What did any of this have to do with your outfit?

“Shit, sorry,” he backtracks, face scrunched and a palm digging divots into his forehead. “I just—I’m jet lagged and pissed but you’re right.” 

After chucking some food scraps in the pan, the sizzles that spring forth serve as the only sounds in the kitchen. Hints of hot butter bloom around your cheeks, and you contain your need to aim daggers your brother’s way, knowing that his fuse should run out in due time. 

Both of your attitudes should change as soon as the meal is ready anyway.

Finally sparing him a glance, you notice that he’s still angry with the floor, cheek prodded in deep thought and brows set in a peculiar line.

Hmm. He could just be pissed this happened while he was out of town. 

But something still seems really weird. Odd. Like you have all the right pieces but they’re for a completely different puzzle.

Turning the burner low, you take a nearby electric kettle from its stand. “What’s up with you?”

Your sibling’s eyes follow as you fill the glass container. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Just tired.” 

“How about this,” you offer, back to setting the kettle down and starting it with a click. “I let you eat all the food, and you let me know the truth.”

“About what?”

The conversation you heard between him and Yoongi was way too suspicious. How did he not even flinch at Jimin being involved? Wouldn’t he question it just a tiny bit that both Yoongi and Jimin were with you? At a club, no less? 

Nothing makes sense. 

“About what’s on your mind,” you finally respond, voice heavy with exhaustion. 

It’s a wonder you’re even awake. The lingering effects of last night hang onto you like bricks, both from your body and from your overworked brain. 

Truthfully, you want nothing more but to sleep and forget about everything for the time being. “But if you really don’t wanna tell me, then whatever.” 

Your brother just watches as you divvy the food into two servings instead of one, bringing them to a familiar table backed against familiar windows. When you turn, the slight scrape of a chair follows as he sits at his usual spot, and it’s quiet as you pour some tea.

Just like you have every time he comes back from a trip. 

You don’t know when that started becoming tradition. But it has become instinct at this point. Just one of the few things you do as a family, whether it’s in the early, dewy hours of morning, or when even birds are fast asleep. 

Steam spirals from his cup as you set it down with a heavy clunk. Taking your usual spot adjacent to him, you scoot your chair in. Not particularly doing anything else. 

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

Neither of you move to eat. 

Work crawls just as slow as your mind does, with the sludge of all your thoughts and worries jamming its various gears. 

What do you do now? How are you supposed to feel after an unforgettable week you can’t get back?

You said yourself that things will go back to normal. But saying something is a hell of a lot easier than actually living it because you feel ridiculously incomplete. One check in the mirror would show that you’re all in one piece, sure. 

But on the inside? 

Your chest is both a lot heavier and a lot lighter than it used to be. Like a significant part of you has been replaced with solid stone.

How that’s possible, you can’t even begin to fathom.

Retreating to the bathrooms, you shut yourself in a stall and fish out your phone, staring at a lockscreen that shows no notifications that have your heartbeat skipping.

Can you even text him?

No, right? Yes? Maybe?

If he’s at work, he’d be way too busy to just text. But if you send something weighty, he may not respond to that, either. If he’s with your brother, that could result in a talk you don’t wanna have yet. 

Ugh.

Why is this even harder now! 

But Yoongi said he’d figure something out. Knowing him—because you’d like to think you do now, to some degree—he wouldn’t just say that for nothing. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. 

Still… The mere notion of texting someone shouldn’t make you go through a mental maze. 

Squeezing your eyes in frustration, you decide to let your fingers write for you. 

Only to find out that they’re just as indecisive.

You [typing]: hi

You: 

You: 

You [typing]: hi old man

You: 

You: 

You [typing]: hey

You: 

You: 

You: 

Hearing someone come in, you click your phone shut, sighing before lugging your heavy heart back to work. 

And it’s the most un-Friday Friday you’ve ever been through.

“Door’s open!”

Upon entering Taehyung’s place, you’re immediately hit with the smell of bread.

Is he making his signature sandwiches? You would’ve asked him to make you one if you hadn't arrived with lunch. 

Have to repay him for his favor, after all.

Why does that feel so long ago?

Setting your bag on his couch, you catch sight of him in the kitchen a half-room over. “Hey, Tae. I’m paying up.”

Immediately, he whips his head around. After eyeing the bag you put on his coffee table, a dramatic groan sails out of his mouth. “Damn it.”

“What?”

He looks at you before observing something you can’t see. But it turns out that your assumptions were correct. “I just wasted a shit ton of jelly.”

A laugh escapes as you start taking out what you brought, paper bag obnoxiously loud. “Just leave it for dessert!” 

“Nope. It’s best fresh.”

You pause. “Then have that instead?”

“But I want your food now.”

Damn it, Taehyung. You massage your forehead out of necessity, knowing you will never fully understand this man’s brain. “Okay,” you relent. “Bring it over, I’ll eat it.”

Both of you settle onto his sofa after he grabs some plates. While searching for a movie, he runs through everything you told him on the way from work,

“So he took you back to his place.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Took you home.”

“Yeah.”

“And stayed.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well…” Your friend leans back, raking dark bangs away from his forehead. After a pause so long that it makes you nervous, he breaks, “Shit.”

“I know,” you sigh, staring at the small, weighty to-go rice in your hand. “He did so much.”

“I mean…” While you’re still stewing in contemplation, he hunches forward to grab a hefty portion of noodles. And when he continues, it’s nothing like you expect,

“Pretty sure that means he’s yours.” 

Fuck.

The box in your hand almost hits the floor. Heart beating in over-over-overdrive, you find it hard to process any coherent thoughts. “Be serious,” you shoot out, fingers tight around the container.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“The bar was already low, mister fresh jelly.”

Taehyung simply turns to aim a smirk your way. “You’re the one that put it there, Missus Min.”

And he bursts into laughter when you hide your face behind the rice.

“Shut up, please,” you groan, earning even more hearty chuckles from your best friend. 

“No! You’re so gone, look at you!”

Sighing in a mix of embarrassment and pain, you set the box down and start gathering your own food. “It’s not like that, Tae. We’re not together, remember?”

The sound he makes is enough to show how convinced he is. “I’m not even the one in your situation and I’m swooning. How can you not see what’s happening?” 

“It’s not that I can’t.” 

“Then what?”

“It’s that I shouldn’t,” you whisper, moving stuff around your plate. “Even if we were a thing… we’d have to just sneak around. Like damn kids.”

While you’re wallowing in your own thoughts, Taehyung sits in silence, too. The movie he finally settled on rolls the beginning sequence, but neither of your gazes fall anywhere close to the screen.

After awhile, you hear him comment, “Sneaking around… Ah, that’ll break you.”

There’s a weight attached to his words, and your eyes can’t help but follow them to the floor. 

Why does it feel like he’s talking to more than just you? He’s been acting pretty shady the past week. Or is that just you projecting your own sneaky behavior?

Well. Inconspicuous or not, it’s not going great.

Exhaling, you slowly admit, “Jimin already knows.”

Taehyung’s sudden stare makes you wince.

“I don’t know how,” you sigh onto your food. “But that night, Yoongi just said that he knows. I don’t know how the fuck that happened unless he said something, but. I also don’t see why he’d do that.”

“Umm.”

You turn.

“That’s on me.”

“What?” Completely thrown, your jaw unhinges from betrayal. “You told him? You snitched?”

“No! No.” In his haste to placate, Taehyung bites his lip and sighs, hand patting the sofa in defeat. “Not exactly.”

“Then how…”

“He was here. The night Reia called me.” He claws through his hair, a little rougher than last time. As his bangs sway forward in rebellious waves, you wonder if there’s more to the story he tells. “When I had to cover for you.”

“Oh.”

“It was weird. He was actually flipping out when they said you weren’t responding.”

Wait. Jimin? Why the hell would he do that? If anything, you’d think he would just sit around and watch everything unfold with amusement. “What the? Why?”

“I dunno. I was obviously dealing with a lot so I didn’t really process, but. After I hung up, he kept asking me where you were.” He shrugs. “So I told him where you could be.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, actually. He looked… Fine? Then obviously he connected the dots, so. Pretty sure he suspects at least something now.” He inspects his nails before choosing one to bite, a habit he still hasn’t grown out of. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you quickly assure, wondering what any and all of this could mean. While some things make sense now, there’s even more questions coming to the forefront. “I’m just confused.”

“Same.”

Why did Jimin react like that? Why did he question Tae where you were? It makes practically zero sense, just like his little tease before the intramural game.

Now you really need to know what the fuck happened there. If you get the opportunity to find out, you’re not letting it escape. 

But first…

You flash a smug look at your best friend.

“So… Jimin, huh?”

And he stops biting to aim big eyes your way. Then forward. 

“It’s complicated.”

You:

You:

You [typing]: thank you

You:

You:

You:

You:

“Oh, my god, hi!” 

“Hey, Yuri,” you sigh into your phone. As you drop your bag onto your bedroom floor, you apologize, “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier.” 

Her voice is enough to penetrate through your other ear, so you set the device on speaker before tossing it on your comforter. 

“No worries! Just wanted to check on you.” 

Comfy clothes. You need to be in comfortable clothes as quick as possible. As much as you love Taehyung, his insistence that you come straight from work meant prolonging your discomfort. 

You shuck your work garments off while halfway responding, “I’m fine.” 

“Okay… You don’t really sound like it, though.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh again, pulling a tee over your head. 

You still haven’t gotten anything from Yoongi. There’s barely any fight in your bones right now. “But it’s whatever.” 

“I’m sorry. Did something happen last night? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Classic Yuri with the onslaught of questions. Always wanting to kn—

Wait. 

What did she ask?

Jimin didn’t tell them?

Huh.

You just figured he said what went down before rallying them to leave Dalo. The fact that he didn’t say anything strikes you as a little out of character. 

Well. Now paired with what Tae mentioned… Maybe something should make sense here.

“Babe? I’m so sorry if I’m being annoying.” 

“Oh, fuck, my bad,” you rush out. “You aren’t. I just thought you all knew.” 

“Well, maybe they know. I was just way too drunk.” 

“Ah, yeah.” A chuckle leaves your mouth. “Damn, you were gone gone.” 

She elongates her agreement before adding a bit of explanation,

“It’s all Rohan’s fault.” 

Exaggerating a sigh, you shake your head as you flop onto your bed. “Do I need to draw swords?”

Her laugh always reminds you of bubbles. Pretty bubbles that fill grassy backyards and playgrounds with pops of delicate rainbows.

“No, I’m kidding. He actually… Umm. He asked me out.”

“What!” Air rushes around you as you shoot up on your elbow, moving to change the call into a videocall instead. 

Another laugh erupts before the call is switched, and you stare right into Yuri’s frustratingly perfect skin as she’s walking down a hallway. “Bitch!” you yell. “When!” 

“Wait, hold on.” Her smile is all you see until she enters a room, and the movements make it through your phone before she answers, “Earlier today!” 

“How?” You’re so delighted that your smile is genuine, ears perked and ready to hear every little thing about how this all happened. “What did you say?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be this invested,” she giggles before sitting on her bed. Propping her phone on what you think is a pillow—or one of her many plushies—she fixes her hair while continuing, “You usually just tolerate stuff like this.” 

“I mean,” you stutter, realizing that she’s right. You never truly bought into all the mushy stuff since your experience with relationships isn’t exactly sunshine. Rainbows? Yeah. But not much sunshine. 

Not until recently, at least. “True, but. I really am happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” she squeals, expression a mix of gratitude and delight. You can tell she wanted to talk about it but held back, which makes her storytelling even more special. “It just— I was so surprised! He took me to this super fancy place, right? And then he even bought me a ring—”

“A ring? When’s the wedding?”

“Okay, I flipped out at it, too, but! He said he just really wanted to get it for me.” 

“Damn.” Your curve is warm. “That’s fucking cute.” 

“I hate him actually,” she whispers, to which you chuckle at while feeling like your chest has suddenly caved in. “Maybe your little mystery man will do something, too!” 

And an overwhelming feeling of sadness swallows you whole. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, heart slowly bleeding out of the cracks Tae warned you about. “Maybe.” 

“Oh, I’m also inviting everyone over tomorrow. Can you come?” 

“Yeah, that sounds—” You stop when you hear the front opening, and your brother’s voice is distinguishable even through your bedroom door. 

Looking at the time to see how many hours you have left to wallow in suffering, you sulk after you count. Desperate and slightly melancholy, you ask, “Actually, can I just come over now?” 

“And spend the night? Duh!” Yuri gets up and goes out of frame, but you can still hear her. “Mom’ll be happy to see you again. And she’s been making mandu all day, so. Hope you’re hungry.”

You could cry.

Dumplings?

Comfort food is exactly what you need right now.

“Starving,” you manage through a half-smile. “I can leave whenever.”

“Then hurry up!” She finally reappears in the frame with more casual clothes, and you wonder if you caught her just as she was coming home from her date. “We aren’t done talking about mystery man. I have so many questions.”

You fake a groan, brain churning with mixed emotions. 

Of course you wanna scream about him from multiple rooftops. But you also just yearn to talk about him openly at all, and the fact that you can’t has you shutting yourself in a proverbial basement. 

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce anyway—as usual. “Be there soon.” 

After you both end the call, it doesn’t take you too long to pack. You don’t necessarily need to change, either, so you’re vacating your room in no time. 

Voices spill into the hallway as you make your way to the door.

“Going to—”

Stopping in your strides, your bag swings into your thigh while you count four pairs of eyes. Two of them you recognize as people in your brother’s friend circle, and one of them…

Mystery man himself.

“Oh. Hi, guys.” 

They all greet you in varying volumes, with Yoongi simply throwing a look over his shoulder from his seat on the couch. 

How the fuck does he look better each time you see him?

Turning to your brother—definitely not to stare too hard at someone else in the room—you announce, “I’m staying at Yuri’s.”

“K. You eat yet?”

Your hand connects with the doorknob but your shoulders spring up in excitement. “No, but her mom’s making mandu,” you giddily respond, stretching out the ending syllable in singsong. 

One of the guys shouts from his chair, “Hey, bring some back!”

“No!” You laugh as your brother does, because he already knows what you’re gonna say. “I never share dumplings.”

“It’s true.”

“Dumplings sound good as fuck.”

“Why do you think I want some?”

“Okay, I’m really leaving now,” you huff through a smile before sparing one last glance at Yoongi.

And the slight, upward lift of his mouth makes your pulse jump. 

Good sign. That’s a good sign, right?

You really hope they don’t notice how incredibly shy you become. “Have fun.”

“See ya!”

“Bye!”

“Later!”

With their goodbyes on your ankles, you head out the door, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.

The night at Yuri’s is refreshing, with her mom doting on you and having you eat until you can’t move from the dining table. After a comforting, talkative meal, you’re able to speak somewhat freely about things in the plush castle that Yuri calls her bed. 

You tell her what happened at Dalo, to which she hugs you tight enough to squeeze out some tears. And you tell her about your so-called mystery man, if only to bring her out of the sad funk your scare put her in. 

And with each wholesome scenario, you see her perk back up to normal. There’s still some lingering pity and understanding in her eyes—understandable and relatable—so you decide to tell her more than you initially intended.

Remembering everything the two of you did together, though, it’s no wonder you feel a vast emptiness in your chest. Whatever happened during this week will be remembered for years and, even if that is all you get with Yoongi, it can be enough. More than enough.

Or can it?

An outright squeal causes you to retreat into your shell. “You’re so in love!”

“Shh!” 

“What! You totally are.”

Covering your entire face with one of Yuri’s plushies, your muffled reminder is the same you gave Taehyung, “We aren’t even a thing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re practically married.”

The stuffed hamster quickly ends up in her face. 

Giggling, she clutches it in her arms while being downright ridiculous. “I bet you even picture yourself having his kids.”

What? 

Your mind fizzes, bubbling with a million scenarios you hadn’t even thought of yet and all of them are giving you grief.

Could you really? Something like that? Why is the answer already solidifying in your mind? 

You’re so caught up in Yuri’s earlier statement that the next one almost goes unheard. 

“Mystery guy would do anything for you. And I don’t blame him at all.” She runs a couple fingers through her hair, eyes viewing stars beyond her canopy. “He probably would’ve lost his shit if he saw—”

Her pause ends when she turns your way. “Oh, crap. Sorry if—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re probably right.”

“Sorry. I’m still upset just thinking about it. I would’ve lost my shit, too.” 

“Jimin was there. As far as mystery man, I dunno.” You readjust yourself on your side to face her, but your eyes stay glued to her sheets. “All my exes moved on pretty damn quick, so. Who’s to say he won’t.”

“Probably him.”

It’s so spot on that your breath catches in your throat. 

How are things so obvious to her? Are they this obvious to everyone else and you’re simply the only one blocking yourself from what’s really going on?

This is some mental punishment for consistently being told or shown you’re not worth someone’s time, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Why the fuck do all your exes get this much power over you?

Voice tiny, you finally whisper, “If you say so.” You go to grab another plushie, hugging it and finding comfort in its fluff. “I’m just still unsure about the whole thing.”

“I was, too. But… Rohan saying something first made me realize that I could’ve done the same. And we probably would’ve been happier a lot sooner.” 

“Why didn’t you before again? He’s older or something?”

Yuri sighs before brushing nonexistent hair on her plush. “Mm, that was part of it. Really, I was just worried people wouldn’t, umm. Accept him? I guess?” 

As she laughs to herself, she doesn’t see the look on your face. “But honestly… Who really cares, anyway? He’s a good guy. And why should I care, you know?”

If only you were as strong. You feel like you’re witnessing a champion, cheering Yuri on from the sidelines as she overcomes all obstacles to break the final ribbon. 

Because she’s gone through shit similar to yours. So to see her conquer her past makes your future just a bit brighter. “I’m happy for y’all.”

“Thanks!” She grins, adorably puffing her cheeks on her beloved hamster. “I’m rooting for you both, too.”

Swallowing, you only nod, not a single word daring to run out of your mouth. 

Can you also do it, though? Make it to your own finish line? 

Maybe. 

But you don’t even know if you have one yet. 

You:

You [typing]: i

You:

You:

You:

You [typing]: sgskgskdl 

You:

You:

You:

The neighborhoods in your town haven’t changed much. 

Aside from the trees being taller, almost everything else is the same. Cracks still residing in the same sidewalks; kids still riding the same bikes; one random elderly on their front porch still eyeing everything with suspicion.

Even the people seem to have stayed. You still recognize a good amount of them as you and your friends currently traverse down one of the worn, sunny sidewalks. 

While Reia and Yuri laugh about something together up ahead, you and Dom lag behind to people watch.  

“Mm, there goes Missus Gata again.” 

“Is it really still Missus?”

“It is. But are you surprised?”

“No.” 

Both of you politely raise your arms in greeting, watching as the older lady moves on to water another rosebush. 

From your friend’s hard angles and posture, you can tell that she isn’t done with you after your alarming confession to her and Reia. After they arrived at Yuri’s, it wasn’t long before you were told to let them know what happened, since apparently they weren’t briefed on it, either. 

But you don’t expect her to talk about it so soon—and in broad daylight.

“So that really happened? At Dalo?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.”

Though her mouth forms shapes, she doesn’t offer anything else, shaking her head and biting her lip instead.  

You use the heated pause to point out, “I’m just shocked Jimin didn’t say anything.”

“Honestly? I’m a little glad he didn’t. Because I would’ve hunted that motherfucker down.”

“Hey!” 

The two of you look ahead to see Yuri wave before pointing, and you follow her hand to one of the small playgrounds dotting the area. 

It seems even that area hasn’t changed. You still see the familiar swing set, jungle gym, and seesaw taking residence there. 

Since it’s currently vacant, all four of you walk up to different structures, with Reia and Yuri taking the swings and you and Dom the central climbing gym.

Heart heavy, you wonder if you can say what’s been plaguing your mind since yesterday. The others are far enough away to not hear what you’re about to disclose, right? And Dom would know to keep it down.

But is outside really the right place for something like this?

You make a decision as your friend steps onto the first couple platforms. Feet planted, you squint up and admit,

“That wasn’t everything that happened.” 

Immediately, Dominique turns to face you, brows scrunched in waiting.

Huffing, you grab onto a pole to lift yourself onto the steps. The metal is warm instead of scorching hot, and you briefly wonder if the paint is new. 

Focusing, you continue as you follow Dom up to the top level of the gym, “He took me back to his place. Made sure I was good.”

“Mm. How’d that go.”

Over the creaks of swings and loud laughter, you give your friend a rundown of how the night went. How Yoongi never left your side until you said it was okay; how he told you it wasn’t your fault; how he drove you home and surprisingly stayed the whole night. 

You leave out the more intimate parts, but Dom is still rooted in her opinion.

“What did I tell you? It’s far from over.”

Looking down at the rest of the playground, you lean on a bright railing and sigh, “He hasn’t said anything since he left.”

“Have you?”

You wince. “…No.”

A snort pings off your shoulder, and you watch as Dom joins you, looking at the others with sun-narrowed eyes. “Well. I’m no expert on his type, but. I don’t think he’s gonna say anything until you do.”

Your lips purse as you agree in silence. That’s what you’ve been thinking was the case, which makes your indecisiveness even harder to deal with.

And yet, you still haven’t gotten rid of the little devil wedged deep inside your ear. “But what if he’s just… I dunno, moved on already?”

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Fuck, okay. Fine,” you easily bow out, knowing your doubts are getting less and less traction. Things are finally starting to sink in, especially after Dalo—and your conversations from yesterday. 

Pushing off the metal, you grip it until heat permeates your palms. “But it’s complicated. Like, I know there’s something there. But I also don’t get it, you know?”

“Oh, you get it. You just don’t want to. Cus you’re scared of what it really is.”

“Maybe,” you muse, leaning forward again as a merciful cloud blocks the Sun. “But. It’s not like anything can happen anyway.”

“Why not? Look at me and tell me why you both can’t just date already.” 

You freeze, the words said aloud enough to ignite your entire body. A brief skip or two punctures your chest, and you feel every limb liquifying into mush all at once. 

Finish line. Is that your finish line?

But no one else is in your situation. So no one else would understand why your course is a bit more complicated than others.

Turning, you nudge your chin into the crook of your elbow. “Because… Well, what if it doesn’t work out? What if there’s a fallout and my brother gets involved?” Sorrow overpowers hope on your tongue as you avert your gaze. “I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”

“What if it does work out? What if everything is completely fine?”

You flash your eyes back upward.

Dom sighs before she crosses her forearms. “Listen. I’m gonna need you to fight that stubborn ass head of yours and think about this for a second. Yeah, it could be messy. But is that enough to stop you from trying?”

Well. Your head is undoubtedly stubborn. 

But it’s even more difficult when it goes by precedence. 

“All my exes have been messy. I don’t want to do that to him, too. What if it’s me?” 

Your deprecation is knocked off the climbing gym by a scoff. “What? Girl. What are you even saying? That dude blew off the entire neighborhood. For you.”

“Dom, please,” you beg as she straightens. “I don’t—”

“Do you miss him?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Do you miss him.”

Your eyes once again find the playground floor, drifting over to the untouched seesaw.

If only your mind was that still. 

Sighing, you answer, “Yeah.”

“Exactly. And it’s been, what, two days?” You hear nails tap the railing in fed up metallic pings. “How would it feel if it was a month? Fuck it, a year? What then?”

“I’d…” You let your answer fade, not knowing how it was going to end anyway.

Because before, you were completely okay not hearing about Yoongi for months at a time. Seeing him once while back home was just a passing event—albeit a handsome one—so the time between didn’t really affect you. 

But now?

Thinking about that same scenario feels like how agony must taste. No matter how many times you swallow, you can’t seem to get the suffering out of your mouth. 

So you readily admit, “It would hurt so fucking much.”

“Exactly. And I bet you everything that he would feel the same.”

Dom leaves your high perch after that, and you lift your head before clanging after her to another section of the structure. “He hasn’t even said anything, though.”

“Neither have you! Both of you haven’t.” When she comes to the edge of a sturdy bridge, she looks over her shoulder to add, “At least he has an excuse.”

While you join her on the blocks, you ask what she means.

“He probably doesn’t want your brother catching on or something.” Finding a spot to settle in the very middle, the two of you lean on the rails to watch cars drive past a ways away. “I hate this whole let-them-talk-first shit he’s pulling, but. It kinda makes sense this time.”

Not encased by towers, it’s easier for your voices to get lost in the open summer air. Your mind seems to clear a bit, too, if only to be a little more accepting. 

Because Dominique’s argument has made the most sense thus far. “What do I even say?”

“I dunno. Hi? I miss you? I love you and I’m an idiot?”

And the amount of sense plummets to zero. “Dom!”

“What? I’m right!”

Tripped up by a new phrase that has your heart gasping, you think the bridge is swaying a lot more than it truly is. Swaying, rocking, twisting, looping. You may as well be on a rollercoaster with the array of emotions you feel spiraling across your veins. 

Nope. There’s no way. 

You brace yourself and think about more concrete things. Concepts that you can grasp in the present. 

And suddenly, texting Yoongi doesn’t sound difficult after all. 

“I could just say hi and see what happens.”

Your logical friend turns to look at you before providing more advice, “Don’t overthink this. Just initiate. Every other time, he better commit.” 

A smile finally graces your face as you softly nudge her with an elbow. “Look at you,” you joke. “You warming up to him?”

“I never said that.”

Her laugh joins yours after a second, and the calm silence that follows reminds you of every summer you’ve ever lived.  

When the curve of your grin starts to fade, Dom’s voice floats on the breeze once again. “Look. All I’m saying is… He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I think that’s cus he makes you happy with yourself.”

Well. 

Fuck. 

Your mouth sets into a bittersweet line, feelings threatening the corners of your eyes. As an impossible memory of another playground comes to mind, you sigh, “He does, Dom.”

She slings an arm around you, tone even more airy and fleeting. “What can I say? I’m always right.”

“Almost always,” you correct, happy to defend Yoongi just as your friend did minutes prior. “Since he isn’t the same as you thought.”

“Y’all! Let’s get ice cream!”

Both you and Dom peer down from your perch before she yells, “Don’t have to tell me twice!”

Voice soft, she whispers to your unsuspecting friends below.

“With you? Yeah.”

You look her way.

“So what does that tell you?”

You [typing]: hey

You: 

You:

You [typing]: how’ve you been?

You: 

You:

You:

You:

You:

You:

You [7:17pm]: hi

After a fun but tiring weekend, you make the trip back home to your brother settling onto the couch. 

Shucking your bag off, you take out a plastic baggie filled with frozen dumplings that you got sent home with. Because no matter how profusely you refused, your stubbornness is no match for a mom’s insistence.

Your sibling throws a look over the sofa. “Damn, how many are in there?”

“I dunno but they’re all for me!”

He laughs before turning back to face the TV, head shaking at your unwavering selfishness. “Well, save those for later. I got food.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was gonna.”

In minutes, your prized possessions fill the freezer and your stuff occupies your room. 

A movie you vaguely remember from childhood is on, but your attention isn’t too focused on it as you grab a plate. Instead, you find yourself staring at your lock screen, conveniently hidden from sight by your thigh. 

No messages.

This really is so much harder. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Ehh, good,” you respond at your untouched meal. “I have an interview soon.” 

He munches while staying fixated on the television. “Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“Downtown.” 

“Damn, nice.” Scarfing down another bite, he continues, “I was wondering if you were gonna go for another gig.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pushing your food in various directions. Even though it smells delicious and inviting, anxiety about the upcoming interview sinks its talons in your brain. It being a Sunday certainly doesn’t help, either. “I’m just ready for a change. At least you’re smart and found a sick job right out of school.” 

You wish you could be like your brother: successful, uncompromising, also seemingly lucky. To see him finding success at every turn makes you feel unaccomplished, despite having a good amount of achievements yourself. 

He just seems more driven than you. While it’s admirable, it’s also slightly demotivating. Because you feel like you won’t ever reach that same potential. Like an ink stamp of his persona—never fully transferred. 

“I mean, that’s a way to sum it up, but.” He sets his food on his lap, suddenly quiet. “Not really how I saw it.” 

You watch as he adjusts the watch on his wrist, admiring its craftsmanship with a determined stare. “I knew I had to support us somehow. Couldn’t settle for just anything.” 

“I know.”

There he goes again, shouldering everything himself. No matter how much he’s done or how hard he’s worked, he never holds his efforts over your head. 

Truly, the only glaring fault he has is his protectiveness, which even then is hard to argue with considering the circumstances. 

He just needs to know he shouldn’t worry so much.

“And honestly, the pay raise was the only reason I took that promotion. The travel is nice, but…” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You set your plate down on the coffee table, fully deciding to not eat just yet. “I’m an adult, you know. Survived being away for school, right?” 

“Yeah. But… I just. I feel sick thinking about what happened.” 

“Well. So do I.” You rest your elbows on your knees, eyes burning into the ground. “But I’m here. Yoongi and Jimin… Even if they weren’t there, I would’ve found a way out.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Umm.” You swallow. One would think a story like this should be easy to tell on the third go. But not for you. “All I remember is Jimin getting me after I shook the guy off. Then Yoongi… He brought me home.” 

Trying not to show emotion at a time where your heart isn’t quite operating should be an Olympic sport. You can feel its heavy thumps with every syllable as you finally continue, “And stayed until you got here. Apparently.” 

For a moment, only the movie fills the living room with sound. Both of you sit in weighty silence as ponderous as your thoughts. Thinking, wondering, contemplating.

It’s him that breaks first. “I owe them.” 

“Same.” 

“They could've told me, though.” 

You disagree, looking at the floor and checking your phone in the process. “And had you flipping shit, boarding the next flight for nothing? We were fine.” 

“But what if you weren’t? You know I’d do that shit for real if I had to.” 

“I know.” 

“I got you.” 

When you look up, you find your brother glaring straight through the screen. He’s clearly still bothered. But shouldn’t he just be happy that you’re okay? 

You still don’t know why he hasn’t said a single thing about Yoongi being here. 

Maybe… Just maybe—

You finally remember something. Something that had you raising your brows for a short period of time. Wondering what that could be about, you bring it up, “You said to call Yoongi, too. If I needed anything.” 

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. Turning to you, he asks, “I said that?” 

“Yeah. Before you left.” 

“Huh.” You watch as he looks down with furrowed brows. “Yeah, well. He’s my brother, so. Makes sense.” 

Of course. They’re thick as thieves, him and Yoongi. He’s called him his brother multiple times before. 

But it pricks the side of your heart just a bit this time. 

“Speaking of that fucker, I feel like he’s seeing someone.”

You freeze, never having sweat accumulate so fast in your goddamn life. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. He’s been quieter than usual. Just sucked into his phone.”

…His phone? 

“Oh,” you croak before clearing your throat.

What the hell do you say? How would you respond to this conversation normally, let alone having an inside scoop? It’s borderline awkward.

“I mean, he could be busy with work?”

“True. But I usually know if he’s serious with anyone. And he kept dipping out early this whole weekend.” He starts gathering his trash from the table before pausing. “Wait, you know where he works?”

Coughing again, you pivot, ignoring his weird look. “I meant, in general. I assume he’s a contributing member of society.”

Your brother just furrows his brows once before continuing his cleaning. “Yeah, he’s working on big shit, that’s for sure.” As he passes to throw his garbage away, you pick your phone up to flip it over. “Speaking of, I’m hosting another party here on Friday.” 

Confused, your stare pins onto his back. “Seriously? Didn’t you just have people over last Friday?”

“It’s summer? And I have things called friends?”

“Can’t Jimin host?”

“Nah, his parents are back until next month,” he explains before chucking everything in your kitchen bin. 

“Oh.”

“But, what I was gonna say was,” he smiles, walking back to the coffee table to grab his phone. “You’ll wanna be here for this one.” 

“…Why?”

Wiggling his device at you, he vaguely responds with a mysterious, “You’ll see.”

You sigh, hoping it’s not just another excuse for you to stay home and cook. That’s what usually happens during big house parties at your place. 

Well, the few times that weren’t outside cookouts. With a quick thought, you remember that it was usually Yoongi that grilled during those. “Okay… Can my friends come, too?”

“Yeah! I don’t care. A lot of people’ll be here.”

“K.”

“Eat.”

You end up not doing that, instead getting up to go to your room. There’s simply too much on your mind, from your interview to a certain person that you can’t shake off. 

Hearing your brother talking about work didn’t help, either. You wanna be able to help financially, even if he never expressly asks. If you manage to snag this interview, it’s possible that you can start contributing. 

“Hey, listen.”

You turn. “Huh?”

Filling the middle of the hall, he seems to be in the same deep pit of thoughts as before. “There’s something you should know.”

“About what?”

“About th—”

A knock on the front door causes you both to flinch. Eyeing your sibling, you watch as he goes to open it after offering, “I’ll tell you later.”

You furrow your brows but wait to see who knocked, tensing when you hear who your brother welcomes in.

“Hey.”

“Sup.”

What the hell.

This is the second time Yoongi’s appeared at your house—two more times than the amount of chances you’ve spoken to each other since Friday morning.

But you can’t act weird around him. Last time was almost bad enough. So while the door closes, you only ask them out of curiosity and nothing else, “What are y’all about to do?”

As Yoongi looks right at you, your sibling replies—way too nonchalantly, “Got people coming over soon.”

“Tonight, too?” Why! Since when was your house the hottest one on the block? Did they always go this hard while you were away?

You check your phone while commenting the obvious, “It’s Sunday!”

Undeterred, the boys move into the living room, and you trail after them as your brother asks, “And? It’s not like you have school tomorrow or some shit.”

“I work? And so do you?” 

“Relax. It’ll be chill this time.”

You have no damn clue what chill means to him, but if people are already coming then you can’t exactly argue anymore. 

Plus. Yoongi’s here now—which, quite frankly, is already making you feel better. 

It’s magical, really. How he’s able to make you feel more at home in your own house. 

Eyes rolled, you find compromise, “Fine. At least lemme make something so I can eat in my room in peace.” 

“Uh uh, you just made a plate!” 

“I don’t want that.”

“Wow.”

You dismiss him with a flick of your wrist. “I’ll put it in the fridge, don’t worry.” 

“Whatever. Hurry up and cook then. They’ll mooch.”

“Of course they will,” you scoff, already walking into the kitchen. “Crackheads.” 

You finally hear a small huff of amusement, and your mood perks from that one, comforting sound alone. 

God, you miss hearing that as often as possible. Which was strangely a lot, considering it’s Yoongi. 

How long has it been? A mere two days? 

According to your heart, it’s been weeks. 

Maybe that’s why you aren’t afraid to address the both of them when you ask over running water, “Actually, can I get a little help?”

Yoongi lifts his head to regard you immediately, while your brother cranes his neck from beside him. “Really?”

“Uhh, yes? Y’all would get some, too.” Catching sight of Yoongi’s expression, you think you see something in his eyes. Something unexplainable, but yet so, strangely familiar. 

It’s almost enough to send your words tripping over one another as you dry your hands. “I just, umm. I don’t want anyone else eating my food so I wanna hurry.” 

“Our food,” your sibling corrects as he watches his friend walk up before he does. “Yoong, you can chill.” 

“It’s cool.” 

“He’s a better cook than you,” you chide from the fridge, giddy that Yoongi’s taking your offer but wait oh fuck did you really just say that out loud goddamn it—

“Hey, that’s not fair! That’s only cus he hogs grilling duty every time.” 

“Could’ve always helped, you know.” 

“Nuance.” 

Good. So either your brother didn’t catch that or just figured you knew from those cookouts and parties. Totally not from cooking alongside his best friend for the better part of a week. Cool. 

Clearing your perfectly fine throat, you set some foodstuffs on the island with dull thumps, letting both of them know what you want done with each part of the meal. 

“Damn! You aren’t feeding the whole party?”

“Nope.” You hope Yoongi realizes what you’re about to make, and you smile at the same ingredients you used to cook what he brought to the studio. “Just us.” 

When you spare him a quick glance, there’s something in his expression. It’s small. It’s subtle. But it’s there. 

And it’s enough to know that he might be missing you, too.

“Are y’all done cutting?”

“Yeah, almost.”

“K. Ready when you are.”

While they’re both busy by the sink and talking about various things, you’ve been nursing the pots and pans on the stove.

In typical you fashion, you did end up caving, deciding to make a lot so that more people could eat. Cooking and serving usually go hand in hand, and you do enjoy seeing when someone likes what you made. 

Plus, you need an excuse to see Yoongi’s reaction this time, since you were robbed when he ate at the studio. You aren’t asking for much, right? All you have to do is stick around for a bit so you can get some closure.

A vibration could be heard from the island, and all three of you turn from your makeshift stations. 

It’s your brother’s phone. “Ah, shit. Lemme take this.”

You watch as he wipes his hands before swiping his device, squashing it to his ear with a shoulder. As he passes you, he just tilts his head,

“You can put mine in.”

“You could’ve just—” 

“Hey! Y’all coming tonight?”

Your scoff follows him around the corner. 

Why do you even ask him for help? He always does this! 

Whatever. 

You move to grab his stuff only to see Yoongi a few steps away with it already.

“Where do you want these.”

Oh.

All you have to do is answer him. Truthfully, you could just point and that would be enough. 

But you can’t. You can barely take another breath with him looking at you, dressed in a set that has you weak with bangs lingering dangerously over his eyes. 

He’s right there. 

And you feel like he couldn’t be further away. 

Swallowing your misery, you finally move and gesture to a pot. “This one.”

Without pause, Yoongi walks up next to you, sliding everything in and putting the cutting board down with a clunk. 

Spices fill your nose as sizzling tickles your ears, but all of your focus is on wondering what he’s gonna do next. 

Is he gonna walk away now? Keep acting distant? Tell you to stop blatantly staring when your brother could walk back in at any—

“Sesame.”

A blink. “Huh?”

He turns to look at you before shifting his eyes to a slim bottle on the counter. “There’s sesame oil this time.”

Ah. 

You didn’t put that in last time because he didn’t have any.

How the hell did he remember? Even you didn’t think about that.

Lip bitten, you face your pan, shyness now accompanying your sadness.

Of course he would remember. Of course he would point that out. It’s so inherently him that your heart almost slips into the pan in front of you. 

If only it were just the two of you still. You wouldn’t have to be on edge or worry about where you stand with him. 

Though Tae’s label and Dom’s question still ring in your ears, those are going to stay nothing more than a dream. A wonderful scenario you can keep imagining at night, or during a confession scene, or simply while driving to a job you aren’t happy with. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, hearing your brother’s voice move further across the house. “There is.”

“Fuck it, come here.”

You don’t even get to question what’s happening before your chin gets tugged and your lips seized, breath sucked all the way into your lungs while shoulders meet your ears. 

Colors burst as Yoongi lets you go as quickly as he claimed you, and your vision spins as he darts his eyes between yours. 

“You staying?”

Stars. Stars. Your eyes are stars. “Huh?”

“When they get here.”

“Why?”

Unwavering, he admits as plain as day, 

“I wanna see you.”

He what? 

Stunned, you start to say his name before you feel him squeeze your ass, tugging you flush against him and causing your stomach to backflip off a top rope because what the fuck?

“Also.” A bit of teeth shows behind his curve as his greeting glides out in a low, smug as fuck,

“Hi.”

…What the hell! What is he doing!

His laugh while you panic shove him off is aimed at the stove instead, and you’re left to gawk at his side profile for what feels like hours. And hours.

Yoongi did not just do that in your own house. No way. Absolutely no way.

As he spares you a quick glance again, his eyes roam across your face before he quietly hisses in mirth, grabbing a spatula and stirring what he dropped in the pan seconds—hours?—earlier.

Your breath finally returns when you hear your brother’s voice enter the hallway again. “Yoongi…”

“Hmm?” When he sees you watching him, his expression drops in a way that has you melting. “Shit, too much?”

“No, no. I just—” As much as you would replay that tiny moment over and over again, it only reminded your heart of better things. Of easier times. And it’s banging against your chest like an animal to the point where it physically hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

Fuck it.

Launching forward, you tug him back in for another kiss—rushed, desperate, simply not enough. Your nails dig into the soft material of his shirt, as if the animal inside of you is claiming prey after absolute starvation. 

His lips are just as—

Footsteps and goodbyes sound off around the corner. 

Retreating with all the willpower you have left, everything you’ve wanted to say over the past fifty or so hours comes out in three loaded syllables,

“I miss you.”

And you have to move away as your sibling enters the kitchen, eyes welling impossibly fast and lungs on fire. 

“My bad! Got carried away.”

“Who was that?”

“Rohan.”

“He’s not coming.”

“Nah, he said he was.”

“Uh huh.”

While they converse, cold fridge air snaps you back into normalcy, and you pretend to rummage around for nothing before shutting it with a small thump. “Took you long enough,” you snip as you go to grab Yoongi’s cutting board, since he took your brother’s instead. “We’re almost done!”

“Ah, damn. I thought you’d be finished already.”

“Lazy!”

“Hey, I helped!”

“Useless.”

“What!”

A small snort leaves your nose as you bring Yoongi’s cuts to the stove, mind a little clearer despite his surprise attack. 

Because even though your heart wants plenty more than whatever the hell just happened, your worries have retreated for now. 

He kissed you. 

He wants to see you.

Dom, as always, has been right this entire time.

You feel like you could fly with how light your shoulders feel. Even the food smells better and looks more appetizing. 

Eyeing your brother across the kitchen, you ask with newfound glee, “Would you rather be lazy or useless?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s both.”

“Bitch! Move over, I’m doing the rest.”

As your brother shoves into his friend’s side, he meets resistance as the latter pushes right back with a strained laugh. 

Immediately, you back up as they struggle over the utensil, laughing in earnest and then some.

“Gimme the spoon!”

“No! You’re gonna fuck it up!”

“I’ll make it better if you just—”

“Hell no! Fuck off!”

Fools. Both of them are complete fools! Your cheeks legitimately hurt from seeing them wrestle over a goddamn spatula, so much so that it’s hard to form words. 

It’s only when your brother knocks the pot a little too hard that you intervene with a string of sounds, “Stop, stop! You’re gonna knock it over!”

Both of them cease while you walk up to Yoongi’s other side. “How about you both fuck off and I finish by myself, yeah?”

Before either of them responds, the doorbell does, and your brother leaves immediately. “Coming!”

Which leaves you alone with Yoongi for mere seconds.

And he uses them to his complete advantage.

“Show me that sometime.”

Something is placed in your hand before you fully register what he means, and your jaw drops before he walks away with a goddamn smirk.

Motherfucker, he didn’t have to wink, too!

Breathing in, you curse him out before looking at the spatula you now possess, curling your fingers around the warm handle. 

He wants to see you?

Texts be damned.

Greetings flow out of the entrance as a group of people arrive, and you smile while busying yourself at the stove. When you hear your name being called, you turn to say your hellos and let them all know food’s almost ready. 

One of the guys almost steps foot into the kitchen to see what you’re making, but both Yoongi and your brother halt and spin him with light touches.

Sparing a glance at your sibling calling him impatient, you wonder if he knew Yoongi did the same thing. 

But more and more people start coming in, and soon music fills the house to compete with pops of conversations. 

Wasn’t tonight supposed to be relaxed? You don’t even think there’s enough food for everyone. While your brother starts pulling alcohol from the counter, you question with heavy judgment, 

“This is a chill night?”

He looks out into the living room with a tsk. “Meant for it to be. Guess people just tagged along.” Grabbing a bag of solos from a cabinet, he apologizes, “Sorry.” 

“Kick’em out early, please.” 

“Yeah, I can.” 

Everything you prepared smells divine. You even hear someone comment on the smell from a room over while you’re finishing up. After getting out disposable plates—because you can cook for people but you are not cleaning up after them—you announce that the food is ready.

“Thanks!”

“I’m starving.”

“You better not hog everything again.”

“It was one time.” 

Standing at the bar, you watch as all your brother’s friends congregate in the kitchen, observing everyone’s conversations and keeping to yourself as much as possible. 

Some of them you recognize from his team, and some of them you’ve known for quite awhile. It’s a lively bunch, and you admire your sibling for keeping up so many friendships all these years. 

“Y’all better thank her. She made all this shit.”

Oh, god. So many eyes on you. 

After the cacophony of gratitude and comments on the food, you smile without teeth. “Just leave a little for me. I’m still hungry.” 

“K!” 

You don’t trust hungry crowds, but at least you still have your brother’s leftovers in the fridge. 

The doorbell rings again and, since you’re the closest, you vacate the bar and head to the front. 

To your surprise, it’s Jimin waiting on the welcome mat—the man you need to thank for Dalo.

“Hey,” you greet instead, letting him in. “Anyone else with you?”

“Hello, love.” His smile is always so charming, and it currently contrasts with the all black fit and cap he’s sporting. “Just me.” 

“There’s food in the kitchen,” you offer as the door closes with a thump. “If you’re hungry.” 

Thank him, too. Just say thank you for what he didn’t need to do but did anyway. 

“I just ate, thank you—hey!” 

And your chance evaporates.

You watch as he starts his routine, saying hi until he’s gotten to everybody. The habits of a true host, you figure. He could run for council one day with those mannerisms, especially with a force like Taehyung by his side.

You really hope whatever they got going on works out. 

Well. Maybe you can catch Jimin some other time tonight. There’s no point in doing it now.

When you get back to your spot at the bar, you see that another plate has materialized next to yours. 

Did anyone take your seat? Is this someone’s food?

Glancing around, there isn’t anyone else other than someone getting their own portions. All the other people are scattered about the house or backyard. 

Huh.

Despite feeling like a fly on a wall, sticking around is somewhat enjoyable. Not having to socialize too much takes some pressure off your shoulders, and sparing glances at Yoongi wearing one of his beloved tracksuits is always a plus. 

Your brother said he’s been sucked into his phone often, but you haven’t noticed that tonight. He’s mostly been talking and listening to people, even smiling and joking a bit, too. 

“Wait, didn’t one of y’all tag that abandoned pool before?”

“No?”

“Yes, you did! Wait, no. It was Yoongi!”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh. I swore it was. It was sick, too.”

“Okay, maybe it was me.”

Laughter erupts as he grins into his cup. 

“You and Jimin, man. Troublemakers.”

The latter lazily points in defense. “Doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s even worse.”

“You guys were terrible.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pipes up, room hinging on his set brows and waiting on his argument. But, after a pause, all that comes out is confident agreement, “We still are.”

And more laughs pierce the surrounding furniture.

Even from your position a ways away, you hunch forward in your amusement. But there’s another reason for your grin.

He’s so handsome when he’s happy.

Has he always been like this around his friends? You know Yoongi’s not the extroverted type, but to see him so comfortable around people makes you feel at ease. 

Except when his eyes shift to you.

Because it feels like you’re the only person he’s acknowledging in those moments, which throws all thoughts and feelings into a stew that rivals what you made tonight. 

All the times before, you’ve turned or scurried away. 

But now, you decide to exude pure joy from your lonely spot on a wall, and you see a brilliant spark take root in his eyes. 

A half hour later, you still wanna thank Jimin for what he did, and you finally get your chance when he enters the kitchen to refill a cup. 

Coming up next to him, you grab a little liquor of your own before you blurt over the music,

“Thank you.”

Jimin looks your way, eyes watching over the lid of his solo. 

“For Dalo.”

Straightening, he shrugs. “No need.”

“But I’ve been wanting to.”

“Not surprising,” he says through a smile. “You and your brother. So stubborn. You can text me, you know.” 

Laughing, you take a sip and let the subtle burn slide down your throat. “I think he’d interrogate you if you were texting me.” 

“I can take him.” 

Jimin will forever be Jimin. It’s admirable, really. If he was the one you were seeing, who knows how many texts would have been sent since Friday. 

But he’s not. 

The one you’ve been seeing is a room over, someone you haven’t been able to approach since he stole oxygen from your lungs. 

You thought watching Yoongi having fun would be enough. But with each passing minute, you found yourself increasingly incorrect. Yearning took over like a weed, quickly overrunning your chest and making it hard for you to accept being a mere wallflower.  

Just like the sear of alcohol, something else settles into your stomach. And it’s not pleasant, or wanted.

Even if you dated Yoongi, how the hell could you navigate that? There’s no way things can just change and suddenly you’re sitting right beside him at parties. Or anywhere. At least, not without his friends giving you strange looks or past hookups chucking malice your way. 

Some of them can even be here right now. Which you would rather not think about, so your next sip is bigger than the last.

Because all you’ve been is a younger sister. Not really part of their group or age or whatever else that separates your world from theirs. 

People say to look at the bigger picture.

But you don’t particularly like the way yours is turning out. 

Fuck, your heartbeat is super, super loud right now.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” 

Instantly, sounds and voices reach normal clarity. The heavy thumps you hear aren’t your pulse, but bass from the music instead. When you blink, Jimin is already regarding you with curiosity, a hand on your arm in concern. 

Shit. How long were you just standing there? “Oh. Just thinking.”

“About Dalo?” He slides his palm off, leaving a million questions in its wake. “It’s okay, really.”

“No, not that,” you sigh, nostrils singed from your drink. Staring out the kitchen windows, you respond as airily as the smoke that drifts over your back porch. “Not that at all.” 

“Basketball? Ah, yeah.” 

Huh?

You whip your stare to his, which causes his jaw to shut in an instant. 

Because either he really just wanted to bring that up again, or he misheard you terribly over the music. 

Miraculously, your opportunity presented itself. So you are not letting it slip by this time. “What about it.”  

“Nothing.”

Fuck that. Frowning, you don’t back down. “What do you mean, Jimin. You said you would tell me.”

“I figured you would’ve known by now.” 

“No one’s told me shit.” 

Unblinking, you watch as he licks his lips in thought. You hear a few feet on the kitchen tile, but nothing can stop you from getting this information now. Not stares, nor whispers, or even your brother. 

And he seems to pick up on your determination. He’s the one that called you stubborn, after all. Eyes shadowed by the rim of his hat, he sighs in defeat, “I’ll tell you, but. I feel like either of them should instead.” 

You find that your fingers actually grip the side of his shirt. “Please,” you whisper. “Now I’m starting to get worried.” 

Because what in the hell could be so significant about that day? It’s better if your brother or Yoongi tell you instead? What the hell does that mean?

After several grueling seconds, Jimin waits until the last people leave the kitchen. You observe the way his eyes covertly scan, and you peer over your own shoulder to gauge the room. 

Finally, his voice drifts through the empty air when he surrenders, “Okay. After you left… Something went down.” 

Your hand drops from his side. “What?” 

“Uhh.” He steps back and fixes his cap, eyes storming with conflict. “Fuck, I really shouldn’t be the one telling you.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

Because now? Now you need to know. Your heart is pounding and you’re pretty sure the next song is good but you can’t exactly hear it. All you’re focused on is what he is going to tell you. Because he gave you a bite and now you’ll fight for the entire course.

But no further coercion is needed. Jimin continues, seemingly unable to look your way. “Some dude made some threats.” 

“Threats? To who?” 

He glances at you before sighing. And you have to answer yourself.

“Oh. Me? What the fuck?” 

“I told you—” 

“Jimin… Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“I can’t speak for them, but. They probably just didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Were they really that bad?”

He prods a cheek before divulging the last, most crucial part. “He threatened to find this house, so. Yeah.” 

Well. That’s definitely a lot worse than you thought. You can take empty threats; everyone goes through shit like that. But for someone to threaten to find an address? Were they really… That…

Serious?

Hold on.

Hold on hold on hold on.

Your words feel like suspense itself on your tongue. 

“Wait, so… That whole time…” 

Jimin just stares—stares, and stares, and stares—while everything hits you like a train. 

The whole week.

That entire time.

Yoongi was keeping you safe. 

The key. The goading you into coming over. The way he kept looking over his shoulder while you walked at night. Telling you that Jimin knows.

This also explains why Jimin freaked out at Taehyung’s place. When he overheard that you weren’t responding. 

A chill pops in your chest like dry ice, freezing everything over in seconds. 

You heard Yoongi saying something went down when your brother came home. Voice shaking, you ask Jimin even though your heart knows the answer, 

“Was… Was the guy at Dalo…?” 

He sets his cup down before gripping the counter in both palms, and he doesn’t need to say anything else. 

“Almost lost our goddamn minds.” 

You start feeling your fingers tremble before a hand clamps over your mouth. 

Fuck. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck. 

No wonder the fucker looked familiar; no wonder it felt so off; no wonder Jimin’s heart was racing as much as yours was.

Everything in your brain is spinning, thoughts leaping from one end to the next and bumping and screeching and popping and—

You need something. You don’t know what. Yoongi. Your room. To be alone. His place. Nowhere. Is it stuffy in here? You need space. Space. 

Space.

“Thank you,” you rush out. “For telling me.” 

And you quickly excuse yourself, almost missing the pair of eyes watching your hasty exit to your bedroom.

Everything’s completely blurry when your door shuts behind you. Cursing, you run your hand across your nose before a storm of thoughts jolts your body. 

It’s too much. 

The feelings swirling in your chest have no place to go but out of your ducts, pinging onto your floor and into your clothes.

Are you overthinking this? No. You think and think and think but by god you are pretty damn sure about this one.

Why would he do that? No one has ever gone these lengths for you. At least, no one other than your brother, who’s had it ingrained in his blood since forever. 

But Yoongi didn’t have to go this far. Neither did Jimin, for that matter. They both could’ve just passed it off as a bluff, or forgotten about it as soon as the next day rolled around. 

Fucking hell, how they must’ve felt at Dalo.

There’s an unspeakable pang in your chest just thinki—

Your phone’s vibrations scare the shit out of you, and you check to see who texted before another hot batch of tears roll down your face.

Yoongi [10:04pm]: What’s wrong, doll

Goddamn it.

What do you even—why did he—how are you supposed to answer? All you want to do is wrap yourself in his embrace and never leave. You wanna walk past everyone in your house and stand in front of him, if only to tell him a thousand and one thank-you’s by catapulting yourself into his arms.

But you can’t do any of that. And it sucks. 

You [10:06pm]: he told me

You [10:06pm]: about basketball

You stumble to your bathroom, bracing yourself on your counter before removing all the gunk from today in a wash. 

It’s not like you’re going back out there. Not after looking like a legitimate trainwreck. 

After you’re done, you see that he texted back, throat constricting at his continued concern. Always his concern. Always his effort. 

Holy fuck, his effort.

Yoongi [10:09pm]: Talk to me

You [10:17pm]: i really fucking want to

You [10:17pm]: but i can’t

Yoongi [10:18pm]: Gimme ten

What? He’s not gonna leave and call you, is he? It’s late but it’s not super late. If he dips out now, wouldn’t that be too early?

Well, your brother did say he was leaving early all weekend. Probably to work on something.

But regardless. You can’t position yourself as someone that makes him leave just out of selfishness. He can still have fun while he’s here. You can wait. 

After what you heard, you can wait as long as he needs. 

You [10:20pm]: what no. you don’t have to leave 

Yoongi [10:20pm]: I know  

A sniffle.

What the hell did you do to deserve any of this?

As you settle into the cold of your sheets, you let out a few more tears.

Because now, more than ever, you wanna run right for that godforsaken finish line.

Though it’s been more than ten minutes, you don’t mind. If anything, Yoongi’s given you time to process everything, tears hardening on your cheeks and soaking into your pillowcase. 

Even before he gave you that key, he was protecting you in his own ways. For fuck’s sake, he even came over the day your brother flew out, probably just to check on you. So many things. So many nights. 

Recalling how you joked about walking home, now you feel downright awful if you scared him somewhat. 

When he finally calls, your throat tightens, but you answer the phone regardless.

“Hey, doll.” 

His voice is a salve for your wounds. “Yoongi… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You hear a long sigh, the low hum of his car filling the space right after.

“Fucking Park.”

“I made him tell me,” you defend. “Since no one else ever said anything.” Waiting, you trace your fingers along one of the divots in your sheets. And you’re unsurprised when you realize it’s in the spot he took residence before.

“I’d rather you worry about normal shit.”

You freeze.

“You don’t ever need to worry about that.”

The entirety of every language you know escapes you. For his explanation renders you speechless. 

Jimin was correct in his assumption. But it doesn’t take away from how you feel. How grateful, how terrible, how indescribable you feel. 

That’s a long time to shoulder something and not say a word about it. And from his reaction, you don’t think he planned on saying anything at all. “But that whole time… You…”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

He’s downplaying. Why is he downplaying? From the way Jimin spoke, those threats weren’t light. And Yoongi cannot tell you it was nothing considering how he acted after Dalo.

Fuck. 

After Dalo.

How he was the whole night after suddenly cakes your throat to the brim.

Because it was already enough to make you rethink some things. But now? After knowing the whole truth?

Fucking hell, Min Yoongi.

A wave of emotion cradles you into its swell, and you feel something warm spread throughout every fibre of your being. It’s comforting, it’s peaceful, it’s healing. 

Suddenly, even the normal shit doesn’t seem worrisome at all.

Breath shuddering, your chest aches so much that you almost consider sneaking out of your window to follow him back home. “He told me,” you whisper into the line, tears threatening to splash onto your screen. “The guy at Dalo.”

A curse shoots out before you’re back to hearing the ambiance of the drive. 

Yoongi really didn’t want you to know that part, it seems. 

And truthfully, you get it. You don’t think you would’ve told anyone something like that, either. 

“Jimin knew not to let me get you. You haven’t noticed, but. I still have a big ass bruise from him shoving me into the bar.” 

“Yoongi.” You have to know. It’s not enough to know what happened. Now you need to know something deeper. And it’s not even out of worry; it’s out of pure curiosity. “Why?”

“Because we were asked to.”

…Huh?

You didn’t know that was the case. Your brother was the one that asked them? There couldn’t be anyone else that Yoongi was referring to.

How did that guy get out alive if he threatened you in front of your brother? What all actually happened?

“And I was gonna anyways.”

Breathing in, you still can’t believe it. You can’t believe anything that’s been said or revealed to you in the last hour or so. 

Fuck, even your brother having people over makes sense. He wants to be home instead of leaving you in the house.

They all did so much. So much more than you even realized. “You even stayed... That night.” 

“I wasn’t gonna leave you alone.” 

Oh, it hurts. Your chest hurts like it’s never, ever hurt before. It’s hard to even form the right sentences, when all you can think about is him. “Yoongi… Thank you.” 

“It’s all good. When’s your interview?” 

Disbelief shoots from your mouth. 

That’s what he decides to talk about now? After this massive revelation that he didn’t speak a word of for a week? 

Who knows. This could just be a normal, everyday happening that Yoongi is used to. It may not mean much at all in his grand scheme of things. 

But to you? To you, this means more than everything.

So much is choked up in your throat that it leaks out of your eyes. When you finally respond, you hope that he can’t tell you’re crying.

“It’s… It’s on Tuesday. After work.” You can’t help but let a sound slip. How the fuck can Yoongi be so normal about all of this? You feel like you can barely function. “Still nervous as fuck.” 

You know he knows you’re crying. But he doesn’t comment on it at all. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is assurance. 

“You’ll be fine.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Just cus.” 

Unbelievable. And yet completely him. Your palm comes up to wipe gratitude and a myriad of other emotions from your eyes. 

This entire time.

You don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking about this. 

And you have a pretty fucking good excuse to not overthink about him anymore.

“That’s a really lame answer.” 

“Did it work?” 

“A little.” 

“Good.” 

A tiny hum escapes through your clogged throat. If only he wasn’t driving further and further away. Wasn’t he the one that made you comfortable here?

You think you understand how. Maybe a part of your heart left with him after he stayed the night. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of it is packing up and fighting to escape your rib cage.

“You should go, doll.” 

“No.”

His slight laugh is comfort in a sound.

“At least go back out for a sec. Get some water or something.”

“Okay…” 

Despite agreeing, you find that you’re far from being done. How could you be? You wanna stay as long as he lets you. Brain whirring, you grab hold of anything you can use as an excuse to keep him on the line. 

And you end up settling for something safe. “Wait, where’s my copy of your album?” 

He responds with amusement again, but immediately takes the bait. 

“I don’t even have the masters yet.” 

“Liar. You must have at least one.”

There’s a brief pause before he admits, 

“Okay, maybe I have one.” 

“I knew it!” 

“You caught that way too quick.” 

“Yeah, you better watch out.” 

“Agreed.” 

“You know.. This whole time,” you start, rueful puffs of air fanning onto your receiver, “I’ve been wondering if I could talk to you again.” 

“I thought you just forgot about me.” 

“Huh?” 

Quite possibly the most untrue statement in history.

“You never texted, so. I never knew when it was a good time.” 

He laughs, seemingly to himself. 

“Then a whole weekend passed.” 

Staring into your ceiling, you frown. “You’re joking.” 

“Dead serious.” 

“Wow.” 

“I almost called you. Like three fucking times.” 

“Really?”

“For nothing, too. You know I had a cat at my door two days in a row?” 

“Nu uh. A stray?”

“Think so. I left some water out but didn’t have any food. Fuck, I need to go to the store.” 

You hear Yoongi get out of his car, and you wish you were there with him walking to his apartment. You’d probably be able to see his newfound pet. “You know you have a cat now, right?” 

“No.” 

“Yeah.” 

“No chance.” 

“It’s there now, huh.” 

The silence on the line is your answer.

“Listen—” 

“See—” 

“It is. But it’s leaving now.” 

“Is it really.” 

You hear a shuffle of sounds, and in your heart of hearts you know he’s bending down to pet the damn thing. 

But his pride makes his answer noncommittal. 

“Mm.” 

“Oh my god, another lie! Such a liar.” 

Mirth fills your speaker, and you can hear his smug ass smile. 

“Nu uh.” 

“I can’t with you. I’m hanging up.” 

You hear the distinct jangle of keys, and that one sound alone breaks your facade.

“I lied. I don’t wanna go.”

His door shuts, and you can imagine him padding through his place after slipping off his shoes. He had really nice ones on today, so they’re probably going into those neat, clear bins he uses for more coveted pairs. 

“Just call me later.”

“When?”

“When he’s passed out.”   

“Okay… Do I have to go now?”

“Mm. I’m almost done with something I wanna show you.” 

“Really?” 

“Uh huh. And you’re distracting me so hang up.” 

“You called me!” 

“So?” 

“Wow. Goodbye, babe.” 

There’s a quiet moment. Then a quiet, rueful huff of breath. 

“Talk later, doll.” 

And the phone is suddenly silent. 

While your head is as loud as can be.

A couple hours pass before you hear your brother finally knocked out. 

After hanging up earlier, you did venture out of your room to get water. Of course, you made yourself presentable and not snot-nosed before leaving. Couldn’t let anyone immediately wonder if you were okay or not. 

Because while you got closure about what happened, it’s still so full of emotion that you think you’ll break if you have to speak about it again. 

Jimin spotted you before you stepped back into your room, but he only offered a smile after your mouth curved upward in perpetual thankfulness.

In that moment, you decided to give your brother some credit, too. 

For everything that he’s done thus far. And for picking an elite group of close friends. 

Inching up against his door, you place your ear on the wood, hearing the rush of air before telltale snoring rumbles through. 

So it isn’t long before you’re back in your room, calling back the man you will never get over as long as you live. 

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Fully expected you to chicken out.”

Huffing in pride, you settle onto your sheets. “I like proving you wrong.”

“I see that.”

“So what were you gonna show me?”

“Huh? Nah, I’m still not done.” 

Giving your phone a weird look, you note, “You said to call back.” 

There’s a mix of scratching sounds on the line, and you wonder if he’s at his desk or in his bed.

“Yeah.”

“So…?”

“Just felt like making you come.”

Fuck!

“Yoo—” You slap a hand over your mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

The grin in his voice can be heard for miles.

“You don’t wanna?”

Is this man for real? Yes, you’ve spoken on the phone when your brother was here and yes, you want to jump his goddamn bones. But this is definitely crossing into dangerous territory. “I…I do, but—”

“Then do as I say. It won’t take long.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” you whisper, already frazzled to no end. It seems your lips get a lot looser, more unfiltered the more caught off-guard you are. 

You wonder if Yoongi’s caught onto that. Judging from the chuckles you hear in your speaker, he probably already has. 

“You ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

Settling far under your covers and placing pillows around, you whisper, “Fine… You better not charge me for this.”

A hum buzzes the line. 

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to pay up.”

“Oh. Good idea. I will now.”

“Gonna run me dry, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Plus interest.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Just missed you.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Keep whatever shirt you got on, forget the rest. You’re gonna need it in a sec.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, slowly reaching down to slip off your bottoms. Your heart is already racing, and the warmth under your covers is increasing bit by bit. “They’re off now.”

“Good girl.”

Air leaves your lungs, but it’s what he says next that causes you to outright flinch.

“What did I tell you to show me.”

Shuddering, your hand is already palming your mound, but all you can think about is how much better it would be to have him there. “Yoongi…”

“Careful, doll. Neighbors can’t know my name just yet.”

Lip bitten, you admit, “I just wish you were here.”

“Fuckin’ same. But do what makes you feel good.”

Swallowing nothing, you dip low, feeling your essence coat your fingers even though you haven’t even started yet. 

This man can probably make you come from his voice alone. 

But you don’t need to admit that to him.

“You wet, baby girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Keep going for me.”

Swirling your fingers over your clit always works, but the thoughts and images running across your eyes are what really get you bothered. 

The way Yoongi’s fingers feel in your cunt instead; the sounds he isn’t afraid to make in your ear; the roughness he unleashes on you in those moments he lets go. You can practically hear his grunts, feel his thrusts, taste his sweat.

And this is the same man that kept you safe?

It’s all so overwhelming that you don’t even notice how hard you’re breathing.

“Sound so fucking hot.” 

A whimper escapes.

How can he say that when he sounds like sin incarnate?

Everything he’s said to you, whether in his right mind or not, comes washing over you in waves. Your fingers find a rhythm as you run through the whole week, and you throw in a few scenarios that you dare not bring up. 

Well. Maybe you will now. Frankly, you want to be under his mercy more than you ever have before. It’s as if his selflessness unlocked a deep, dark part of you, begging to be addressed. 

The things that are coming to mind. They’re gathering on your tongue, pooling into thick saliva that’s threatening to spill out the side of your mouth. “I miss…” 

“Hmm.” 

Let it all out. 

“I miss being your slut, Yoongi.”

The deep curse on the line sends jolts to your core, and his next words rumble out like thunder. 

“My slut, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me something then.”

Your fingers slow down their pace as your ears perk. “What.”

“No lies.” 

“Okay.”

“What does my needy girl want?”

Fucking hell, he can’t just say stuff like that with no warning! Immediately, you let out a tiny whine as your digits glide against your slick. “Choke me.”

“Knew you’d love that shit. What else.”

Admitting the first was a lot easier than the second. You can’t even bring yourself to utter it in a whisper let alone loud enough for him to hear. Truthfully, just imagining it right now is enough to get you close to the edge. Your voice comes out extremely strained as you whimper, “I can’t say.”

“You can.”

“Nu uh.”

“Then stop.”

Your hand grinds to an agonizing halt. “What?”

“You heard what I said. Until you tell me, you’re done.”

No! No no no you were so fucking close! “Asshole!”

“Me? I’m letting you off easy.”

“Fuck. Okay… I…”

“You..”

He isn’t helping.

Gulping, you feel your cunt pulse around your fingers as you finally shudder out, “My mouth.” 

“Uh huh. What about it.”

“Umm…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with all you need to do is just say it. 

So you do.

“Spit in my mouth.” 

Only to face complete silence on the line. 

Blinking into darkness, you almost take your hand away from your center before you hear his voice grind over boulders,

“Don’t make me climb through your fucking window.” 

A whine slips between your closed lips. If he came into your room now, you wouldn’t have cared if every deity in existence overheard what would happen. The amount of lust and something scarier you’re carrying for this man is at an all-time peak. “Don’t tease me. I want it.”

“I just might, fuck.”

“Yes,” you pant, knowing exactly what he means by his broken speech. “Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m close. Yoongi, please!”

“Shirt, doll.”

“What?”

His voice sounds like he’s barely holding on when he grits out,

“Bite that shit you’re wearing or I’m hanging up.” 

“I—mmph—”

“I’d shut you up with my dick, but. That should do.” 

Fuck! Your squeal is incredibly high as your fingers keep up a stunning pace, the shocks of pleasure tightening your legs. 

You hear a condescending laugh on the line, and you don’t know the logic behind it turning you on so much, but it does. 

“Goddamn. It’s like you want everyone to hear you, baby girl.” 

You shake your head, breaths shallow and fast, knowing damn well he can’t see you. 

“You’re getting off on this, huh.”

“Mm mm!” 

“Uh huh.” 

Another stupid, unnecessary laugh punctures straight into your cunt.

“Getting off on doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Mmm!”

“My girl’s so dirty.”

“Yoough—”

You can’t take it anymore. At a label you didn’t expect to hear, your dam bursts, gushing out onto your fingers and spilling from your core. 

It’s massive. Unrelenting. All of your pent-up feelings come in waves, washing you ashore only to drag you back in. The harsh groan you sink into your shirt makes Yoongi react, and your legs threaten to close before he orders,

“Uh uh, keep going, baby. Since you wanna slut it out so bad.”

“Fughk!”

“God, you probably look so fucked out right now. Miss that shit.”

You rip the soaking shirt from your mouth, already close while you keep your fingers wedged inside. Your body thrums with each hard pulse, and imagining him fucking you deep is enough to set you off. “Yoongi. Baby. I’m close again.”

“Then shut the fuck up and come.”

You moan his name into the thick material of your top, hoping to every higher power that it’s muffled enough. 

Your walls pulse wildly around your fingers, and you feel so fucking euphoric that your eyes see sounds in the back of your head. 

But your back snaps into place again as you settle back onto your mattress, muscles aching and filled with a lingering soreness. The only thing you can do is breathe heavily into the receiver, hoping Yoongi’s just as satisfied as you are.

“Feel better?”

“Much better,” you rasp out as the wet material slides down your neck. “You?”

“I’ve been waiting for this since you kissed me. So yeah.” 

Ever since then? That was hours ago. 

You need to inhale before offering, “Do you… Do you wanna come, too?”

A chuckle. 

“I got what I wanted, doll. It’s cool.” 

“I take…” You gulp in a breath. “I take cash or card.” 

A loud bit of laughter punctuates your phone, and your grin is lopsided from exhaustion. Sweat coats every single part of your skin, some of it rolling off your legs in spent drops. 

“God…” 

“So pay up.” 

“How about this. Come over when you’re done with that interview.” 

“Mm?”

“Then I will.” 

“Mm.” 

What he offered finally registers in your brain, and it’s like a humongous light switch. Suddenly alert, you clarify, “Wait. You sure?”

“I am.” 

Is he really offering that? You both know your brother is back. And your interview may end during late afternoon. Around the time he gets off. 

Yoongi has to know all of these things. 

But if he’s truly serious, who are you to deny his offering? When you find yourself caring less and less? “K… Guess I’ll go clean up now.”

“Mm. I’m gonna pass out soon anyway.” 

“Wait.”

“Hmm.”

A grin spreads your face so wide that it starts to hurt, and excitement to hear his reaction tingles you before you joke, “Where’s my kiss?” 

He laughs, knowing exactly what you mean. 

And your smile is impossibly wider when he responds,

“Good luck, babe.” 

This whole weekend. 

This entire weekend, you’ve been worried about various things. Bogged down by a past that clings to your feet like quicksand, dragging you away from wonderful, tender things you’ve been told. 

But it seems like you found a step of solid footing. One sure, stable piece of foundation that has probably been there for longer than you’d known. 

Besides. Walking to a finish line is just as significant as running. Because if you get there, you get there, and that’s a win.

“Thank you. Seriously.” You pause, gazing at the empty space that you want occupied for an uncountable amount of nights. “For everything.”

“I meant what I said, doll.” 

Your smile is warm.

“Anytime.” 

-

-

-

tbc. :) 

-

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? i just wanna say, to everyone that sent that damn tweet of a guy doing the little things to protect his girl and saying it’s 3tan yoongi... i wanted to scream every time bc of THIS. LOL. but yeah, we finally get to hear about wtf happened during basketball. as for the actual scene..... y’all might get that later, too :’)) i just want this chapter to be out for a little bit beforehand so people can read it first.  A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. i’m still just a bit sick and sniffly (totally not bc of yoongi what who does that?) so the writing may not be top tier. but i hope this was still worth the wait!  ++ 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! ++ ⇥ masterlist

[heymacy]

@heymrspatel​‘s tags on my recent gifset had me all moon-eyed and inspired, so i wrote a little something featuring a grumpy Mickey, a spooky movie night, and floofy hair. i don’t know how it happened either, but it did, so please enjoy about 1.2k words of Soft Husbands 🥺🥰🖤🎃

“i love you, jerkface” - dani dennison, hocus pocus

Mickey had been in a bad mood all day.

Ian suggested ice cream and a movie, and Mickey agreed, albeit reluctantly, grumbling something about bribery under his breath as he walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote where it lay beside him, turning on the TV. It opened to the Amazon account they shared with the rest of the Gallaghers, their yearly subscription a gift from Tami last Christmas.

Someone, probably Debbie and Franny, had recently watched “Hocus Pocus” and Mickey snorted softly, remembering how much Mandy loved that movie when they were kids. She watched it almost every day for the whole month of October every year, sometimes randomly in July or December, and Mickey had the whole thing memorized by proxy.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he shouted towards the kitchen where Ian stood, spooning out two bowls of mint chocolate chip. He felt a little bit guilty using the fancy metal ice cream scooper, considering Mickey had snagged it from Debbie’s place a month ago in yet another round of their spiteful kitchen-utensil-abductions. All over a fucking potato masher. They really were a couple of children.

Ian shoved two spoons into each bowl and stuck the ice cream back in the fridge.

“I dunno,” he said as he walked into the living room, shrugging as he passed his husband, whose eyes remained fixed on the TV. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked, and Mickey groaned.

“Don’t do that shit.”

Ian handed him one of the bowls of ice cream.

“What ‘shit?’”

“You know what shit,” Mickey said, distorting his voice a bit in mockery. “Oh I dunno, whatever you wanna watch, baby.” He made a face, scrunching up his nose in feigned disgust.

Ian snorted.

“S’bullshit,” Mickey grumbled, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth as he settled in, pouty as hell. Ian knew that in about 20 minutes, he’d be back to normal. He just needed to get it out of his system.

“Alright, alright,” Ian said, fighting a grin. “How about Hocus Pocus? It’s already up there.” He gestured to the screen with his spoon and Mickey sniffed, shrugging.

“Fine,” he said, knowing that Ian was at least half aware of his history with the film, and avoided eye contact as he slid onto the floor, sitting with his back against the couch.

“Really?” Ian said, smirking, and Mickey just shrugged, swallowing his ice cream.

Ian’s smirk widened.

He slid across the couch to where Mickey sat and threw one of his legs on either side of his husband, capturing his shoulders between his thighs.

“The fuck’re you doin’?” Mickey protested through another mouthful, and Ian just settled in, pressing play on the remote. He listened as his husband mumbled some semblance of a protest before giving up, knowing Mickey didn’t totally hate it when they sat like this.

About thirty minutes into the movie, ice cream long gone, Ian started feeling fidgety.

Mickey chuckled quietly as Sarah reached up into the ceiling, pulling out her “lucky rat’s tail,” and Ian found his hands absentmindedly carding themselves into Mickey’s hair. There was a distinct but soft crunching sound as his fingers ran through Mickey’s hair, breaking through the gel-like product Mickey had used to style it that morning.

“Ow,” he protested, giving his head a little shake. Ian dropped his hands onto his legs.

“Sorry,” he said, refocusing on the movie. He felt Mickey’s hand on his own, moving it back to his head.

“I didn’t say stop,” he mumbled, and Ian was helpless not to grin, thankful that Mickey was turned away from him facing the TV.

He leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his thighs, the strands breaking apart quickly as his husband’s hair returned to its usual soft, fluffy form.

“Your hair is getting kinda long,” Ian mused, only half-thinking as they remained focused on the movie, Dani leaping out from behind the counter with a scream.

Mickey turned his head back around and glared at his husband.

“You gonna get on my ass about my hair, too?” Mickey snapped, irritated, referencing one of the could-go-wrong, did-go-wrongs from earlier in the day. What was supposed to be their attempt at helping Lip and Tami out with the new baby had turned into an impromptu roast session at Mickey’s expense, Lip making some smart-ass remark about Mickey going for the “boyband look” as Debbie egged him on, asking him when he was “going on tour”.

Mickey had just about heard enough and stormed out, already pissed off after dealing with a rude, cheap-ass supplier earlier that morning. Ian had followed, shooting annoyed looks at his siblings before he left, both of them riding home in the ambulance in silence.

Ian realized immediately how his comment probably came off, and he rushed to correct himself.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “I like your hair longer sometimes,” he mumbled, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the top of his husband’s head. Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes, all in show, realizing too late that Ian couldn’t actually see his face.

“Well I’m cutting it off tomorrow, so.” Mickey shrugged. “Won’t have to use that shit anymore,” he said, referring to what he had once called hair gunk.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” Ian said, and it was quiet for a minute while Max stole Winifred Sanderson’s spell book.

“Yeah, well,” Mickey said, shrugging, apparently choosing to remain vague and unelaborated.

Ian sighed and continued combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair, picking up the smaller pieces and lifting them, watching as they fell against the rest of the dark mess he’d created.

“You know I like your hair all the time,” Ian said, and Mickey was quiet. “Right?” he asked again, and Mickey just sat there, the very last bit of his resolve slipping away.

Ian slid his fingers into Mickey’s hair and grasped at the strands, yanking his head back so they were looking directly at each other.

“Right?” Ian said, and Mickey finally grinned, just a small curve of his lips that gave way to a lip-bite and a soft chuckle.

“Right, asshole,” he said, grinning, and Ian leaned down, Spiderman kissing his husband softly before leaning back up and pressing one more kiss to the tip of his nose, finally releasing his grip on his hair. Mickey giggled as he settled back in for the rest of the movie. 

When the firefighters left the Sanderson house, Mickey climbed up from where he sat on the floor, crawling into the spot beside Ian. His husband welcomed him in with his arms spread, both of them settling in comfortably to their regular position, Mickey leaning against Ian’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, fingers laced together where their hands rested on Ian’s thigh.

A few minutes later, Mickey turned his face up towards Ian, who looked down at him with happy, tired eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his face apologetic, regretting wasting thirty minutes on the floor instead of in his husband’s arms.

Ian smiled.

“I love you, too, you grumpy bitch,” he teased, and Mickey snorted, grinning, tilting his face up for another kiss that Ian met with a smile.

[kateis-cakeis]

I think it makes sense for Ranboo to blow himself up in part to show Wilbur how Phil felt, but I've seen a decent amount of fandom take it and go Yeah Fuck You Wilbur Haha Karma for Hurting Phil! And I'm not sure what to think about that? At the end of the day, the chaos of Wilbur's plan gone wrong is not the same as Phil intentionally choosing to put his son down like old yeller. I don't like this idea that Wilbur deserved to be karmically punished for Phil choosing to assist his suicide.

Hi, Anon!

I don't think Ranboo blew himself up to show Alivebur how Phil felt at all.

He did it to ensure no one else would get hurt, including Alivebur. He knew someone was gonna die regardless, and he didn't want that person to be Alivebur either.

It wasn't karma, but it does feel like a parallel to the button room, in the sense that it's a mirror. Alivebur was trying to save Ranboo's life, meanwhile Phil took 30 seconds to stab Alivebur.

What the comparison between the two is in my mind, is that Alivebur and Ranboo shows a desperation to stop a self-sacrifice, that in an impossible situation where someone was gonna die, Alivebur wanted it to be him because it was his fault. Meanwhile, Alivebur and Phil lacks that, instead it's focused on Alivebur convincing Phil it's justice because everyone wanted it done, and therefore, that scene was an assisted suicide where someone didn't need to die.

If the narrative symbolism was karma, than karma would have been Alivebur dying.

No, instead, we see Alivebur trying to reach out and get to Ranboo, but being stopped in the process, trying to reason with him, get him to stop, but Ranboo was adamant. Alivebur tried to talk him down, but failed (and that's a hell of a lot more than what Phil did).

But he was showing Alivebur something and it's in this quote:

“I know what to do. I know how to defuse the bomb and make you realise how frivolous this whole thing is.” - (SootWilbur 2022: Hitting on 16)

In this self-sacrifice he's not just saving everybody else, but he's trying to save Alivebur's sort of thought process, if you will. He knows Alivebur is a self-destructive force, so if Ranboo defuses him like a bomb by sacrificing himself, then maybe just maybe Alivebur will realise how none of the rivalry ever mattered, that the pissing contest did not matter, that winning isn't worth the harm it could cause, and maybe then... he could turn to better ways rather than destructive ones.

And so, if that happens, Ranboo would have successfully diffused the bomb.

And also:

“But it was never about the burgers was it?” - (SootWilbur 2022: Hitting on 16)

This being the last thing he said here before jumping. Ranboo knows that Alivebur felt he was stuck in a social limbo (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:36, 25th July) and so, he's calling that out.

It was never about the burgers because it was about finding people to believe in him, it was about chasing after the feeling of being alive (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 27:22, 4th Aug) and it was about proving himself to others that he wouldn't slip up (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:07, 25th July).

But he did slip up, he fucked up, and Ranboo in that one line is calling it all out.

So no, I don't think it's Ranboo showing Alivebur how Phil felt, or karma in that sense towards Phil and all that jazz.

Rather it is a very personal scene between Ranboo and Alivebur, mirroring the button room in ways, but in others, it's completely unique.

Alivebur failed to save someone he cared about, and it happened in a way that he knows all to well. And that, along with what Ranboo said, shows how it's in part a self-sacrifice to save Alivebur from himself.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗

_________________________

𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Requested: (ANON) Hey :) Would you do an imagine where you live in the apartment next to Steve in Brooklyn and you're kinda very best friends. But one time you see this handsome stranger visiting Steve and you immediately get curious who he is. Steve soon notices you sneaking around when Buck visits him and he notices him seeking your attention as well. So he sets up something to bring you two together, which works? :) I hope this is not weird haha

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Smut 18+ minors dni, fluff, steve’s a major wingman, bucky’s a major flirt ;)

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: This isn’t exactly a college au but it’s a college au lol thanks for the request. I changed it up a bit cuz the idea of shameless!bucky has been on my noggin for a minute but hope you like it bug

_________________________

You and Steve sat on his couch watching a movie giggling and snacking the day away. You and Steve live across the hall from each other and the movers were confused as all hell and a lot of your guys’ things got swapped when you both moved in, which happened to be the same day. However, since the day you met and you two have been inseparable. 

“Oh man, what a classic,” you sighed when the credits came on. 

“Too good. I could never get tired of that movie,” Steve laughed.

“I should probably get going. I’ve been all up in your space all day, sorry,” you chuckled.

“Oh it’s never a problem, Y/n. You know you’re welcome to my man-cave anytime,” Steve nudged your shoulder.”

“Man-cave,” you repeated mockingly, snickering. 

You grabbed a still filled bottle of beer and walked out the door, not without shouting your goodbye probably annoying your other neighbors. You walked to your apartment seeing the clock said it was around five. You grabbed your laptop and opted for pizza considering you didn’t really want to make anything from the kitchen.

About to input your card information on the website for delivery, you noticed you didn’t have your wallet or your phone. You left it at Steve’s. You walked across the hall and knocked on Steve’s but Steve didn’t open the door.

“Hey, I left my stuff here- Woah, you’re not Steve.”

A very tall fellow with striking blue eyes stood confidently at the door. He had fair skin and long brown locks pulled into a bun rested in the back of head. He was fucking gorgeous. 

“Nope,” was all he said before Steve came up to the door.

“Hey you’re back. This my friend Bucky; the guy I grew up with, the one I told you about,” Bucky’s smile grew and you nearly buckled to the floor, gosh he was so handsome. 

“I left my wallet and my phone,” you looked at Steve feeling Bucky’s eyes practically boring into you. 

“Yeah let me grab it for you,” Steve ran away.

“So you’re Steve’s neighbor?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah; I’ve heard a few stories about you and Steve.”

“He’s told me a lot about you too. Failed to mention how beautiful you are,” what a fucking asshole. Your body and face grew hot at the compliment. 

“Here ya go,” Steve came back, saving you from a potentially awkward situation. 

“Thanks; uh… nice to meet you Bucky,” you ran back through your door.

“Uh, were you gonna tell me that your new bestie neighbor friend was fucking hot as hell?” Bucky said after he closed the door.

“Dude, come one. She’s too good for you,” Steve laughed, making Bucky roll eyes grinning. 

For the rest of the day you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about you. Since that day, Bucky came around to Steve’s almost like clockwork. You were always making sure to leave right before he got there. You would peeked through your peephole, watching him go inside Steve’s apartment. 

There were days where all three of you would hang out whether it’d be at your place or Steve’s, usually Steve’s, and those days were the worst. Bucky’s intentional stares and lingering touches. Sitting so close to you when you guys put a movie on. 

One time when Steve went to the bathroom he asked if you had a boyfriend and regretfully you said no. It seemed as though his shameless flirting became even more shameless if that was even possible. 

“Y/n, have I told you how good you look today?” Bucky asked you when you got back from having lunch.

“Yes, you have. About three times today,” you nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Ah shit. Y/n, I think I left my keys inside. Can I use your extra I gave you?”

“Sure,” you handed him your keys and he picked up the one that looked like an American flag since his birthday was the fourth of July. You thought it was funny and easy to remember. 

“Ok thanks,” he handed them back once you guys settled inside. 

“You guys want anything?”

“Nothing you couldn’t give me,” Bucky smirked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m good Steve, thanks. I’m actually gonna head back to my apartment, I gotta finish homework,” you told him before leaving.

“You guys are still in school?” Bucky asked Steve when you left. 

“She is. She’s working towards a PhD, I forgot in what,” Steve shrugged. 

“Oh.” She’s smart, Bucky thought.

“I should probably get going too. I’ve got my bike and I heard it was going to rain for the next couple days.”

“Wait before you go, why won’t you ask Y/n on a date?” Steve smirked.

“Eh, she’s beautiful but I don’t think she’d go for a guy like me. She’s too smart,” Bucky chuckled. 

“Nah, I think she likes you too,” Steve said.

“You gonna come by tomorrow?” he asked. 

“If it doesn’t rain, sure.”

“It won’t; I’ll see ya then.”

Tomorrow came quickly and your head was buried in a textbook and your hand in a bag of chips. You had order takeout already and quickly ate it leaving boxes and plastics to-go utensils littered all over your table. On the bright side, or rather rainy, droplets fell gracefully down the window in front of you. They weren’t heavy but the drizzle was still very pleasant.

Rainys days were always your favorite. You usually spent them on your bed that laid underneath a window and if you needed extra comfort you’d crack it so you could hear the rainfall and cars drive over wet asphalt. It was peaceful. 

Pulling you from your concentration was a firm knock on the door. 

“Buck, whatcha doing here?” you opened the door. 

“Steve said to come by but he’s not here,” he told you. 

“Oh weird. He didn’t say he was going out. Did you try his spare?”

“It’s not there,” you frowned at his statement. 

“Here let me grab my keys and I can let you in, he won’t mind.”

You grabbed your keys and searched for the American Flag key for Steve’s apartment but you could find it. The last you used it was when Steve needed his key because he left his in his apartment. Wait, how did he lock his apartment if he didn’t have his key? Why didn’t he use his spare; where is his spare?

“Hey, I don’t know where his key is so why don't you just come inside and wait here,” you offered. Did Steve steal your key? Why?

“Do you want anything to drink?” you asked him. 

“You got beer?” he smiled cheekily.

“Of course I do,” you smirked.

Bucky came in and you quickly cleaned your disaster of a living room. There were papers and books everywhere, cups and plates piled on the coffee table. Bucky didn’t seem repulsed but he did mention slyly that he thought you were a tidy person. You punched his shoulder laughing saying you usually are but exams were tight right now. Not only that but you couldn’t even remember the last time you had a guy over. 

You put a movie on for you and Bucky drinking beer and eating some snacks you had in a cabinet. You weren’t going to lie, being around Bucky like this was comforting but also nerve-wrecking. He was so handsome and of course that made you nervous. And his continuous shameless flirting did nothing for your own confidence.

“Awe man, Steve said he can’t come home,” Bucky read the message out loud. 

“Why?”

“Said he got caught in the rain,” he told you.

“What a fucking liar. It’s hardly drizzling,” you laughed out loud.

Almost immediately Steve texted you asking if you let Bucky in your apartment and you replied saying that you would let him in his but that you knew he stole your key. 

I’d do no such thing, he replied and you rolled your eyes.

Remember to use protection! ;)

I knew it! You stole your key from my chain so he’d have come in my apartment, you sent. 

Make sure he doesn’t come in you ;D.

Grossss.

“What’s with the face?” Bucky grinned.

“Steve texted me and he is being an ass,” you laughed.

“What, he stole your key so I’d have to come here cause he thinks we’ll go at it like rabbits?” he grinned.

“Did you set him up to sleep with me?” you asked, slightly disgusted that he would something like that.

“No! I just, I grew up with Steve, I know him like the back of my hand. Asked me to come over and surprisingly isn’t there, no spare and you don’t have his key either? I kinda put the pieces together,” he said.

“I would never do something that shallow,” he said. 

“Sorry, I don’t think you’re shallow I just- I don’t know,” you stuttered, there goes your chance of even something happening.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smirked. 

You didn’t know exactly how or what happened next. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through you, or the constant tension between you two especially now that Steve wasn’t there with you guys. But either way here you were, your back pressed against your bedroom door, hands held above your head, Bucky’s thigh between your legs, and he kissed you messily. 

You chest pressed against his own and Bucky released your hands, cupping your jaw with them to kiss more softly. Your hands went under his shirt and you could feel all the curves and definitions of his muscles. Your nails scratched lightly and you felt him tighten his muscles even more. 

He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it swiftly over his head and your mouth practically watered at the sight before you. You noticed small scars and bumps on his shoulder and you grew curious but Bucky’s lips against your neck were too distracting to ask any questions. 

Bucky lifted your own shirt and kissed down your chest and collarbones moving your bra strap to leave small bites and marks along them. He kissed down your stomach slowly kneeling to the ground in front of you. He pulled you sweatpants off leaving a trail of kisses along your legs. 

You stared down at him biting your lip and with a wicked smile, his lower lip also between his teeth, he pulled your panties down your legs. He licked his lips bringing his fingers up to your core. You gasped softly feeling Bucky spreading your arousal around. He slowly licked a long stripe up your center, and your body practically melted at the feeling. 

Bucky lifted your leg and draped it over his shoulder as he continued to circle your clit with his tongue and finger you. Your hands played with his hair and you breathed heavily getting closer and closer to your release. Bucky added another finger to pump in and out of you. He pressed kisses in between whispers of praises and your legs trembled. 

“You look so fucking hot, babe. Taking my fingers so well,” he said.

“Fuck, Bucky, you feel so good,” you threw your head back hitting the door. Your hips bucked signaling that you were about to come and Bucky’s fingers curled and moved faster making you nearly screamed in pleasure.  When you did, Bucky leaned forward lapping up your arousal that spilled out of you.  

He got up and kissed you softly telling you how good you were and how beautiful you looked just now. He wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his hips. He walked to your bed and laid you down gently. Your finger traced and brushed over the planes of muscles across his chest. The light caught the definitions of the bumps and scars, more prominently this and Bucky noticed your soft gaze. 

“I was in a motorcycle accident a few years ago. I almost lost my arm that day. It still hurts sometimes but it’s manageable,” he whispered.

You smiled sadly brushing your fingertips over the scarred skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you said sadly.

“It’s alright, babe. I have this scar in particular, I think it looks like a star but Steve said I was crazy,” he smiled, moving his shoulder to point at the red scar that did in fact look like a star; a very misshapen one but you could see it. 

You kissed his shoulder softly before smiling at him and ruffling his hair playfully. He dipped his head down and nipped your skin making you giggle and squeal at his playful antics. He picked his head back up and stared at you for a minute; his gaze made you flushed and shy.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. His hands caressed your skin from your sides to your bare hips up to your cheeks and jaw. You bit your lip and casted your eyes down avoiding his. 

“What, you don’t believe me?” he chuckled.

“No, it’s not that.”

“What is it?” He held your hand.

“Nothing, just…” Bucky raised his eyebrows waiting for your answer.

“People don’t tell me those things. It’s been a while since someone said those words to me,” you whispered. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore because I intend to tell you everyday how beautiful you are. How gorgeous you are. How funny you are. How kind you are. How perfect you are,” he kissed along jaw and neck whispering these things in your ear that erupted butterflies in your stomach and chills along your arms. 

“Let me show you,” he looked intimately in your eyes. You bit your lip shyly before nodding and Bucky shimmied out of his own pants and boxers. His cock rested against your thigh as he dropped his garments to the side and you could feel just how hard he was. 

“You feel that baby girl? You feel how fucking hard you get me? So fucking sexy,” he kissed you messily; his hand falling between your bodies to pump his cock. He reached down to grab his pants once more pulling a condom from his pocket and you smirk teasingly at him.

“What?” he smiled.

“Did you plan on spending tonight between my legs?” you smirked.

“No, but I sure as hell dream about it every night since I met you,” he kissed softly before tearing the foil and wrapping his dick. 

He reached behind your back, you arched your chest up for him to remove the bra you still had on and when he tossed the garment to the side he groaned at the gorgeous sight in front of him. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts, his fingers pinching at your perked nipples. 

Bucky slowly slipped past your folds and you instantly felt full from his size. After just the tip, you were worried that he might be too big but even with how big Bucky felt inside you, the pressure was too good and you were already moaning beneath him. He leaned forward capturing your breast in his mouth and his tongue swirled around your bud, teething nipping ever so lightly making your body shudder. 

Your hand went to his head and the band keeping his hair back was lost in your sheets. His hair fell forward brushing over your skin creating goosebumps along your chest and arms. Your finger combed through his long locks and your nails scratched his scalp lightly, making Bucky’s eyes flutter shut. 

He released your breasts with a lewd pop before giving the other the same attention. His hips rocked in and out of you at a delicious pace and your legs wrapped around his hips pulling him closer to you, his cock reaching deeper inside you. Your moans grew louder with each thrust and Bucky’s groans did too. 

He nibbled on your ear chuckling darkly at how good he was fucking you. Practically taunting you as you got insanely close to a release. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“No one is ever gonna fuck you this good.”

“You’re all mine, baby girl. All mine.”

You whined and shook beneath him and his thrust became sporadic. It only took a few more thrusts until both of you groaned loudly in pleasure. Bucky’s head buried in your neck and your chest pressed against his in an arch. When you came down from your climax, your felt eyes instantly felt heavy and droopy. You breathe heavily, your hands lazily scratch his head. 

Bucky kissed tiredly along your neck basically purring at the feeling of your scratches. You turned the window directly beside you and watched the rain gracefully fall down the window. The blue hue coming from the night was a beautiful contrast to the warm blurred lights of the city and your small lamp that you always had on. 

Bucky lifted himself and went to the bathroom quickly to discard the used condom. He cleaned himself before coming out to clean you up as well. You smiled at him brushing the hair from his sweaty forward and from his face. He left little kisses along your hips and thighs as he cleaned you up making you giggle softly at the feeling. 

He tossed the dirty cloth in your laundry basket and climbed in bed back to savor the warmth you gave to him. His arms cuddled you close and he watched your eyes continue to watch the rainfall outside. 

“My bike’s probably soaked,” he whispered.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” you turned to him; the rain was coming down hard now and you felt bad. 

“It’s alright. If this is how we get to spend our nights without Steve, he can get caught in the rain all he wants,” Bucky chuckled. You giggle before kissing him softly; falling into a harmonious sleep. 

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pant pocket and he reached carefully not to disturb you. He saw a message from Steve and rolled his eyes playfully already anticipating what his message was about. 

Please tell you guys are together now. I can’t take the obnoxious flirting anymore, Steve sent.

I think you’re good, but don’t ya think you’ll be third wheeling a bunch? 

Nah, I’m with Nat and we made official tonight, Steve sent.

Good for you bud. Thanks for this too. I really like Y/n and I know I can treat her.

I know you will. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let you gone near her XD

Bucky chuckled and you stirred a bit but ultimately went back to sleep curled into Bucky’s side even more. He smiled at your peaceful form. He dared say it but he definitely thought it. He knew he was up for a wild ride with you but he was more than ready to give you the world and more. 

From then on, rainy days had become Bucky’s favorite as well. 

=================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

[kitsu-katsu]

About revived (by Derivakat)

(Disclaimer: Nothing against Derivakat, I think her songs are amazing in general and she's very talented, I simply have a bone to pick with these lyrics and characterization)

So um, here's my counter to some of the lyrics because fuck it, I'm tired and fueled by spite, let's go:

Let's start with the chorus:

"White streak in my hair but no stress now" - Funnily incorrect, cc!Wilbur confirmed that the white hair is from stress itself, it's not about the revival process alone. Also just by reasoning, I cannot imagine what might have been stressful about spiralling and believing that the world is out to crush you, believing that you're the scum of the Earth as well, only to die, spend 13 and half years in dark isolation and then being jolted back up to life missing huge chunks of information, really cannot fathom how that might be stressful /s

"I've seen hell, but this is a bit more my style" - True you know? It's awesome that he's said that he's over the moon about being alive again after spending 13 and a half years of pure isolation in the dark, screming until his throat was hoarse. But coming from the tone of it, I'd like to point out that Wilbur's also still passively suicidal and self harms (check out the part under "He doesn't love TNT, he self-harms with it" in this post)

"A decade of time to make everything mine" (also counts for "This is my sunrise, this is my dawn, this is what I've waited for all along. All of this time, all this is mine. MINE. MINE. MINE!")- Honestly, based on what he's been doing, no prejudices, forget everything fandom's said: he doesn't really seem to want to "make everything his", does he? This perception mostly comes from him saying "This is my sunrise, this is mine!" in the original revival stream, however, if you forget about common fandom perception, what's so evilly framed about a guy who spent 13 and a half years of isolation in the dark saying "this is my sunrise!" after watching the sun coming up again for the first time since his death, in which he was extremely emotionally unstable? Like for real?

Now onto the verses:

"Am I the bad guy? I'll be the bad guy again" and "I've come back hell-bent" - Now, he has said that: “Here’s the thing, Tommy. I, I, I, I know I was bad, and I know I can redeem myself, but like, you know, there’s a little bit of fun in being bad, you know, we’ve spoken about this.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 11:31, 5th May), BUT, since then he's also expressed genuine remorse for his worse actions during Pogtopia (check out the parts under "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" and "Wilbur cares. A LOT" in this post), a wanting to redeem himself and truly become better and... uh... OH! He's also admitted that he's afraid he scares people and cried when Ranboo said that he was "an alright person". For real, just watch the Healthy Competition stream and read this reddit post by cc!Wilbur

The reddit post in question, just in case:

"You think I cared? It was always a means to an end" - So false. Just... so false. Ok, so quick one, let's review the actual lines said originally about him "not caring for L'manburg" in full:

“Uh, one thing, I didn’t actually really care about L'Manberg, I just cared about, you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L'Manberg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 24:18, 5th May)

“Look, I- Okay, I said it wrong. Look, I did care about- I did care about L'Manberg, but I cared about it for- You would call it the wrong reasons, but I, I- Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it too hard. Look, L'Manberg’s gone now, we’ve got that, you know- That, that wart on my side is gone, you know. I salute it, I salute it, you know, it was a great- It was a great place.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 25:18, 5th May)

“Look, Tommy, I’m gonna reiterate for you once more because I don’t think you quite understood, and that’s okay, you know, you don’t need to understand everything. I did care about L'Manberg. I did, I did. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, Tommy. L'Manberg would have been as loved by me had it been called Bimbum and was built in the middle of the desert.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:05, 5th May)

“The actual location, and the actual things it was, it were, were not important to me. It’s the thing it stood for. Which was freedom, liberty, and sticking it to the man, Tommy!” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:26, 5th May)

“We were a family, Tommy. We were…” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 27:26, 5th May)

So as you may see, he retracts himself immediately and explains his feelings with more nuance

Then, let's look at the more recent confession to Ranboo:

“I told Tommy that I didn’t actually care about L'Manberg, and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain like, you know, power and stuff. But it’s not, it’s not true.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:36, 3rd Aug)

“L'Manberg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

“I want it to, em, I want its history to live on not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically just took a big shit on the history books, it feels like. I wanna, I wanna make it, I wanna make it feel like it was, you know, it was something that happened. You know, it was a great thing, you know, think of the good times. The- The years of safety. Well, not years, but you know.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

If this got more explicit I'd be literally hitting you over the head with it. Anyway, check out the parts under "Wilbur cared. A LOT" and "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with" in this post

"So who cares? So what? I'm not calming down" and "Shut up! And listen" - “Tommy, shut up! I mean, Tommy, come over here. Tommy, come over here, come over here, man. It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool. Sorry, I, I-” (Alivebur)

– (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 26:08, 31st May)

That line's totality gets often cut down, erasing the immediate apology after the loss of cool. Furthermore, I'd argue that him "not calming down" in general is mainly due to his euphoria and overexcitement during certain scenes where it makes complete sense for him to be feeling like that, and in a broader sense, he has a tendency to say things in the heat of the moment and out of impulsivity that he turns to later regret from all the way back at Pogtopia. Him not calming down now is either out of impulsivity or outright euphoria to be out of limbo, not necessarily an evil thing. And when he percieves he should calm down, he tries his best to do it, or apologizes for snapping

“I’m sorry I wasn’t, you know, entirely on the same page. But, man, I promise you, I’ve calmed down, you know, I’m all, I’m all settled in. I understand, you know, what’s changed, what hasn’t, who’s new, who’s old, you know, who’s still about, you know, who… Who, uh… uh… Who trusts me and stuff.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 15:04, 3rd Aug)

“I relived that explosion in my head so many times man. And, and, and I- I get that you don’t, you don’t trust me, I do, but like, man, look at me, bro, I’m not gonna do it again. I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna hurt you again.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 21:21, 3rd Aug)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times" and "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized" in this post)

"There's nothing wrong with me" - BUDDY. Wilbur drowns in self-hatred, what are you talking about? The man got caught off guard and cried when someone said "you're an alright person"... He's worried that he scares people, he knows how others see him on top of his own self-hatred

“TommyInnit, as you know, is just, he thinks I’m insane. I’m not insane, chat, I’m not insane.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 4:30, 16th Oct)

“See, I’m not so crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 16:40, 16th Oct)

“I’ve told you, I’m not crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing, and this is genuinely the best thing we could do right now.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 17:18, 16th Oct)

“I’m not crazy! How am I crazy?!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 43:18, 17th Oct)

“Everyone I seem to meet has this deep intrisnic feeling of disgust towards me. Jack Manifold seemed to be quite nice to me, but I reckon he, I could feel it, you know, in his stare. But like, you don’t have that. I can tell you’re a good guy.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 30:24, 5th May)

“Quackity, I’ve, I’ve, I’ve, I’ll be honest you with you, I’ve lost everything, man. I, um. I’ve lost decades of my life. I’ve lost my- most of the people who cared about me. Some people don’t even know I’m back yet, and I, and I think that’s probably for the best. So I feel like that does humble a man. That really humbles a man, you know?” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:00:52, 31st May)

“Listen, Phil, I met, I met Quackity. After you very kindly lent me your house. I went and met him. Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

“Not many people do. I mean, Phil, you don’t seem afraid of me, you’re not afraid of me, are you, Phil?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:03, 25th July)

“Good, good. 'Cause I’m not afraid of you.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:10, 25th July)

“Why? Why? … No, no, no, no, no, not the, not the bit about the, not the bit about the right foot, the why don’t you think I’m a bad person?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 35:13, 25th July)

“Can I be real with you, man? I think I scare people.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:30, 25th July)

“I mean, like I, I, I, I don’t think I, I- I think a lot of people share your idea, but they share your idea in trying to- trying to keep me from hurting them, you know? Like they’ve seen what I can do, and they don’t want me to do it again, so they adopt your emotion in order to do it.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:46, 25th July)

“Dream is- He’s had his comeuppance, and I have not! My comeuppance was apparently not good enough for this people. They’re just waiting, they’re waiting for the next thing for me to slip up on, and, Ranboo, I’m not gonna fucking slip up, Ranboo. I’m different.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:07, 25th July)

“I’m living in eternal limbo, again. I’ve been through limbo, I’m out of limbo, and socially, I’m still in this limbo.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:36, 25th July)

(Check out the parts under "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character" and "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character" in this post)

"Oh yes, I blew up the nation!" (said with glee) - I make a point of the tone in this specific line, because I could make a point of the tone in the whole song, but this line is a good example. He didn't blow up L'manburg just with glee like "hell yeah! I did it!". Of course he talks about it with pride sometimes, but it's usually either said in the middle of the same impulsive moments in which he'd claim he doesn't care, said with relief of him having control over at least that situation (like him sighing right after doing it just to ask Phil to finish it off by killing him), or said with the same deflection with which he'd claim that not having a grave didn't affect him and was badass actually since he only wanted it for the hateful obituaries anyway (which was a lie, and he admitted it on the third of august stream when saying "I was so pressed about not having a grave" in case you had doubts)

Finally, I want to make emphasis on the fact that: The explosion on the 16th had two main drives behind it and they often get glossed over. The first objectivee was blowing it up and causing just enough destruction to get L'manburg back (You know, when Wilbur still had some kind of hope). After his spiral went further and his paranoia and self-loathing worsened, his two drives become apparent: First was blowing it up to rid the world of the twisted thing L'manburg became, ridding the world of what the twisted version of his ideals became with Schlatt in control of them. Secondly, he wanted to end L'manburg as a part of himself and rid the world of himself completely (by this I'm referencing his suicide), he decided he wanted to die and expected that as a result since a lot of time before the 16th. The explosion was effectively a bigger projection of his suicide, rid the world of both himself and his creation, mixed with his constant desire to protect, it also becomes "rid the world of the corrupted version of L'manburg that became Manburg", because for all intents and purposes, since the important thing about L'manburg was its founding ideals, L'manburg had been dead for a long time at that point.

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times", "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with", and "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" in this post)