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pigeonwit · 6 months

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thoughts on billie the kid: act 2

again, this is not a full synopsis, but it DOES follow the plot of the show, so big spoiler alert if you're going to see it! i just wanted to have my rough thoughts and notes laid out so that i can write up a full synopsis when the songs are all released, as my memory and audio processing aren't the best and i don't quite remember the show flawlessly. anywhore let's get into it!!

(trigger warnings for: mentions of attempted suicide, homophobia, transphobia and gun violence)

ough when yuki came back on stage to read the opening stage directions and the whole theatre cheered… “howdy yall >:3 you ready for more billie the kid?” I LOVE YOOOOOU

act 2 opens on a flashback of betty when she used to have a job. she used to be a dancer at this dive bar, had a good social circle and people who seemed to care about her – but the seeds of her illness are there. she tries to drink even though she’s pregnant and only stops when darlene rose (who’s a teacher at winchester creek high and used to be betty’s closest friend) stops her. darlene doesn’t treat this as a shocking thing for betty to be doing – she just sort of laughs it off and treats it as betty being a silly, quirky gal. but when we know how betty turns out, how hard she’s trying to keep herself afloat? It leaves such a bitter taste in your mouth.

when betty introduces her set to the bar she yells “how we all doin’ tonight!” and i (and i suppose a lot of other people) weren’t sure if we were allowed to cheer, so she goes “okay we gone try that again – HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT!!!” and when we all cheered she went “how DID we fit so many people in a bar :3” oh jodie steele you scallywag…

(seriously for a gay man i was. really twirling my hair whenever jodie steele was on stage. omg haha ‘this many people in a bar’ you’re sooooooo funny teehee…)

they really did so well with betty’s character. she’s a sympathetic and hardworking woman who genuinely does want a better life for her and her daughter. ‘cowgirl thunder’ is about her wishes for herself and billie to have a better life undefined by their tragedies. she even says that she doesn’t care that her husband left her, as long as she has billie. her addiction doesn’t stem from her tragedy, it is an ILLNESS that no one paid any attention to until it was too late.

when ‘cowgirl thunder’ ends the lights fade in on billie centre-stage as the bar patrons leave, singing ‘cowgirl thunder’ alone, by herself at her school’s pep rally, with such dead eyes. when she gets offstage brodie asks if her mother showed up. she didn’t. “i really thought she’d show this time…” “yeah? i didn’t.” oh billie… i just want to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay.

milky abel sings this confederate song that i’m sure would’ve been more interesting to me if only my audio processing wasn’t so messed up. i really do wish i’d asked if i could get a transcript or something before coming but alas.

while milky sings, peaches and mouse are backstage getting their money from their client, big willy, who is just the sweetest and really does show that while the hatred in their hometown is the majority, the town in its entirety is not a lost cause.

when peaches and big willy trade their bags and make the sale:

ms banks: um – sir, who are you? big willy: … um- mouse: hey thanks for bringing me my backpack DAD!!!! big willy: uh – no problem, sweet… child o’ mine!

(big willy is an ally and I love him)

kelly, as she’s valedictorian, introduces the ‘best player’ award for brodie at the pep rally. brodie’s been stressing about this award for the whole show, it’s something billie’s been trying to hype him up about because he’s scared of what to say – and seeing kelly’s poisonous smile when she says ‘and now, our best PLAYER, brodie benson!’ curdled my gut.

as brodie accepts the award, kelly congratulates him and also says that as a special bonus for this year only, he’s also won an all expenses paid vacation… with a conversation therapy church camp. candy and mary-beth have party poppers and everything. the way my stomach dropped. the way brodie becomes so very small on that stage. they didn’t just humiliate him… they ACTUALLY gave his information to a church camp. brodie was put in so much danger here and they’re laughing about it.

i can’t remember well enough to quote it flawlessly, but I know kelly does fully announce on stage that brodie was cheating with david, throwing them both under the bus. but she really seems to phrase it like she’s protecting billie, using phrases like ‘did you think you could just get away with it?’, and it’s so horrifying to see kelly, who we've seen firsthand defending all her fellow winchester creek women so fiercely, take such twisted pride in throwing a vulnerable person under the bus.

billie: what’s the matter with you?! i told you to let it go! brodie: you told her…?

NOOOOOOOOOOO….

billie: we made a deal, i was going to stand by him! kelly: you would’ve just let him humiliate you like that?! come ON billie, have some self respect! just because you were raised in a trailer, doesn’t mean you have to act like trash!

oh FUCK… but honestly? yeah. doesn't surprise me. that’s always been it, hasn’t it? kelly has always been fine to defend billie and treat her well when she thought billie was a ‘good’ poor person. because billie didn’t complain too much or go against her at all. but now that billie is defying her? the gloves come off. she’s just trash.

‘poor white trash girl’ reprise while billie beats the shit out of kelly in slowmo?? FUCK yes.

and the way kelly IMMEDIATELY jumps to pressing charges when it’s all done, knowing full well she’s destroying the future that meant so much to billie, the future she confided in kelly about so much? doesn’t even phase her. the trailer trash girl hit her and she’s going to pay for it.

ms banks: she drew first blood. peaches: are you kidding me?! kelly started this, every day for every year that she’s been tormenting us – all of you are adults, and you did NOTHING, but the minute we fight back- ms banks: we? are you implying you were an instigator in this fight, ms harrison?

and then david pulls her away, hiding peaches behind him… oh peaches you try so hard to protect everyone but GOD…

i also really love how they write ms banks as a character. i could write ESSAYS on ms banks. at the start of the show, she’s a supportive teacher who has an obviously good relationship with her students, but we KNOW she's not. i mean for fucks sake, she’s introduced raising the confederate flag for memorial day on the side of the confederates, we KNOW she’s not a good person – but we only see her through billie's point of view. the way she’s so supportive of her students (her straight, white, ‘don’t rock the boat’ students who repeat exactly what she wants them to) and so encouraging towards billie to the point where billie feels comfortable talking about her relationship with her… but the MINUTE anyone steps out of line, the minute someone’s too queer, too poor, too loud, she turns on them. she threatens that ‘there aren’t many delinquents who get scholarships’ and starts ranting to ms rose about how she ‘can’t believe’ brodie and billie would ‘turn out that way’, saying that billie’s wound up ‘just like her mother’. because that that’s all her support ever was. keeping people in line with her beliefs.

i love that ms rose isn’t portrayed as being ms banks’ flawless counterpart. ms rose is flawed too – it would’ve been so easy to portray as this wiser, more sensible woman who the young whippersnappers should be listening to if they want to get anywhere, but no! she IS wrong on this one! she was wrong to turn her back on betty when her addiction grew worse, she was wrong to turn a blind eye when david got bullied to the point of suicide, and now she finally realizes that her innocent blind eyes are just allowing more kids to get hurt. she can make as many jokes as she wants about hating that they hang the confederate flag every memorial day, but unless she does something, she’s part of the problem. she may not understand these kids, but she knows they’re the future, and she knows she has to support them.

when billie’s chucked in jail ('like mother like daughter' SHUT THE FUCK UP UNNAMED POLICE OFFICER) she gets this beautiful moment where she just punches the walls and screams. i love that she’s allowed to express her rage so fiercely.

“are you a white trash girl or are you an outlaw?” […] “are you a good little housewife or a goddamn outlaw?” - GOD. that’s fucking it, isn’t it? that’s the only option. if you’re born trash the best you can hope to do is just stay in the lines, be good, keep your head down and nod politely at all the benevolent people who aren’t judging you as harshly as they could be – but the moment you step out of line? away you fucking go.

there’s a moment in ‘outlaw’ when the choreography is just so… VISCERAL. billie’s punching the floor, the walls, seizing, clutching her head, hitting herself, SCREAMING… i really hope they’re able to keep some of this ferocity when they record the songs in full. we deserve to see women expressing their rage. not just in that palatable hollywood-ified, stone-faced, non-intrusive, covered in blood but still making sure they look pretty enough ‘female rage’ way – we deserve to see women being loud and ugly and unpalatable in their fury and seeing the beauty in that. billie’s been forcing herself to fit neatly in the lines for so long – she deserves to go fucking crazy.

when billie’s mother finally turns up at school and ms rose lays into her, she immediately asks if betty’s drunk again. and it’s revealed that betty IS sober, she’s been sober for the entire time we’ve seen her throughout the show – and yet not even her once best friend wants to see the good in her. ms banks even admits later to billie when she gets her out of jail that she really did turn her back on betty because she thought people would lump her in with betty and assume she was another addict – and maybe if she’d just been there to support her, things wouldn’t’ve been as bad as they were.

but after this really earnest moment of an older woman recognizing her flaws and standing by her younger generation, we get ms banks again. she finds kelly at her locker and immediately starts sinking her hooks in. she does it slowly – she asks about kelly, how she’s feeling, if she’s not too hurt. and kelly confides in her about how upset she is that billie would do this to her when she was only trying to help defend her. and ms banks starts feeding her this narrative that of course billie has to stand by brodie, because that’s their agenda – you have to support gay people no matter what they do or you’re a bad person. that’s why she just got her first warning from ms rose! (totally not because she was badmouthing students and turning a blind eye to bigotry almost a week after a boy just came back to school after trying to kill himself due to rampant homophobia). so kelly, being as ignorant and privileged as she is, is horrified – “so we have to just sit back and let them do and say whatever they want, but we can’t even speak our mind about it?” and ms banks is so clearly offering her such FAKE wisdom, but the way she says it, soft-spoken and understanding, it makes sense that kelly would believe her when she’s justifying everything kelly did as if they’re the only two reasonable people in the world. it’s chilling, seeing ms banks spread her brainwashing so easily and watching kelly lock herself in an echo chamber so willingly as long as it means she gets to be right.

‘not your slave’ is such a genius song for ms banks to sing. taking all this victim-imagery and using it for her own privileged self. making herself out to be this defiant hero when in the background, mouse runs in to hide peaches’ bag of money in her locker, only for kelly to find them, rip the bag from their hands and attack them when they try to get it back, fully slamming their head into her locker.

when mouse falls backwards, clutching their head, david runs in and grabs them, looking at kelly with such hatred before deciding that what’s important is getting mouse out of there.

the conversation milky abel and brodie have was – again – an incredible example of how easy it would’ve been for this show to go with the tropes. at first it really does seem like they’re going to do the ‘love, simon’ thing; milky starts ranting that brodie’s been lying to him since they were six, so clearly he’s in the wrong, right? but that logic falls apart so easily - “milky, when i was six, i didn’t even know gay was a thing you could be. and when i did, i already knew how you’d react.” milky does try to brush this off – “well, maybe you didn’t! maybe i didn’t know how i’d react!” but when brodie says “well, here we are. and no matter what, i hope you get past this, because-“ “don’t you dare-“ “i still love you, brother-“ and milky goes to attack him. brodie puts his hands up at his sides and milky doesn’t do anything, but the point’s been proven. all brodie’s doing is existing as he is. and because milky’s too stubborn to try and understand, he goes straight to fighting. he lets brodie go and storms off, but this has clearly affected him.

god when mouse comes back on stage… and they’re all patching them up… david with a pack of frozen peas and peaches holding them so tight… it’s horrible but it’s also so beautiful… the show somehow balances the sheer tragedy of the queer experience and the pride, camaraderie and joy of it all.

“what were you thinking? normally it’s me getting beat up and you patching me up afterwards…” - i need an entire miniseries dedicated to peaches mouse and david’s family dynamic.

“i’m gonna wear these with pride. it’s a hard rite of passage… for weird boys in small towns.” – this is the point where I started crying and just did not stop.

oof milky confronting kelly… he’s trying man he’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit:

"and peaches’ little brother-“ “oh, you mean peaches’ trans-gender-non-conforming-alien-freak-of-nature?!” - kelly GIRL you have got to calm down.

“and what you did to mouse-“ “mouse?! listen to how you’re TALKING about it!!”

“peaches’ brother – sister – WHATEVER-“

HE’S CONFUSED BUT HE GOT THE SPIRIT!!!

god kelly gets SO defensive the moment milky tells her to just leave off…

“well why don’t you go marching in a pride parade with them, hm?” “what are you saying?” “you and brodie were always close. you can go hand in hand. you and brodie, just like always.” - GOD the way kelly so easily goes from just being plain ignorant to spreading this fear rhetoric GIRL… i really thought this would be it for milky I really didn’t think he’d keep changing after this, i figured he’d get scared and stop. but no!! he keeps making progress!! he finds billie and tells her that he and kelly hid peaches’ money in his locker, he tells her the combination, he tells her that he loves kelly but messing with drug money, what she did to brodie and hurting a little kid just isn’t right.

“tell the little one i’m sorry. it never should’ve come to this.” – HE RECOGNIZES THE PART HE PLAYED IN ALL THE HATRED HE SPREAD… HE RECOGNIZES THAT, INTENTIONAL OR NOT, HE PLAYED A PART IN THIS… HE REALLY DOES HAVE POTENTIAL FOR CHANGE AND HE'S TAKING THAT OPPORTUNITY NOW...

after fixing up mouse, david goes to break into kelly’s locker to get the money back. he’s so frantic when he can’t find it – “no, no, no, where is it, it HAS to be here!!!” … and then ms banks finds him. i am mostly going to paraphrase their confrontation because i can't remember it flawlessly but it's important to me that i have it written down:

david: its not what it looks-

ms banks: it looks to me like you were targeting kelly again.

david: targeting…? like she targeted me?!

ms banks: that's different! i know people like you, david, and you stir the pot! you know you do. there is something... wrong with you, david. something twisted deep inside. you’re sick.

stop. stop stop stop. 'cause isn't that the thing we're all afraid of? that we deserved it all? that if we'd just been a little more normal, maybe people would've let us be?

none of you are ready for saint david. hes lifted up by brodie and milky like christ on the cross. hes on his knees before his homophobic teacher being told that he deserved everything he got for stirring the pot so much, what did he expect, hes SICK. hes thrashing in rage and disgust and beating himself as he sobs. youre not ready.

“you make me feel like a saint, o, david… you are a pervert. and you make me feel like a saint, o, david, you are my favourite.” – the way ms banks sings this to him, so twistedly happy to see what was once a proud and determined boy beaten down, kneeling at her feet, punished for being so ‘disgusting’.

and david still has the gun. the gun that billie promised would keep him safe. he is a saint. he’s the patron saint of every queer in winchester creek and he’s going to make things right for them.

“hey kelly… how much did your daddy have to pay to get you into duke?” – get her ass, david. even if kelly is their valedictorian, how did she get that? because she was able to pay her way to do it. she was able to afford tutors, to go to camps, etc etc, and if she missed the mark, her father could always grease the wheels for her – meanwhile billie’s sleeping four hours a night just to keep her lights on and fight for her full-ride scholarship.

kelly: i can give you the money – it’s in milky’s locker, i’ll give you the combination-

david: don’t lie to me!

billie: she’s not lying, david, i found it! the money’s all here, you don’t have to do this, just put the gun down-

david: shut up, just SHUT UP!

GOD. of course he doesn’t want to see reason! why should he see reason?! he’s been put through fucking hell for years just trying to be himself – he deserves to go off the rails. he wants to make everyone else feel the way he felt just trying to live his own life. there’s no justice for him here, so he has to make it himself.

david trying to take the shot is terrifying. he’s so frightened. “i’ll… i’ll look down the barrel,” he says, reciting everything billie taught him. “and you won’t hurt anyone again… and the world will be a better place for it…”

“you think this ends with kelly? david, don’t do this. xon’t let someone like kelly make you throw your life away. get out of here. live your life. live beautiful. hell, live ugly. just LIVE.” “… what am i doing-?”

yeah. i sobbed. cause isn’t that all we want? just the ability to live our own lives? beautiful and ugly as they are? and we’re put through hell for wanting that every day. of course it drives us to the brink.

“it’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay, david, i’m sorry-“ “no, it's ME! there's - there's something wrong with me, billie…” god. it’s so fucking devastating to see someone who was so proud, so determined, truly believe that there is no hope for him in this world. i’ve been there, man. it's awful to see. we can put on a brave face but god, we just want to be accepted.

the ‘confederate fag’ reprise… david, through tears, trying to convince himself that his life can still come true after everything. he just has to hold on a little more.

god when kelly gets the gun. it’s so different with her. what does it matter if she shoots david? she still gets to live her life. we’ve seen it. maybe she wouldn’t get into duke, but she’d still have her happy southern girl life. she doesn’t have the same desperation david does – she’s driven only by hatred. “he spread it to brodie – i won’t let him spread it to my milky!” – THAT’s what’s driving her. a need to get rid of anything that doesn’t fit into her views. so how do you reason with that?

kelly: get away, youre DISGUSTING!

david, through tears: no. i’m beautiful.

yes you are-

billie standing between david and the gun. “if you want him, you’ll have to get me first... there aren't many school shooters at duke, kelly.” this is what allyship fucking means.

jesus christ, marching up to kelly, shoving the gun between her own eyes like a cowboy in a standoff, telling kelly to look down the barrel and DO IT… billie belle is the insane girlboss musical theatre tumblr needs. she has zero self-preservation and a moral compass stronger than god and she will use those powers to KICK ASS and protect vulnerable communities 😌

betty finding billie after the stand off and refusing to leave her alone – she’s shown up now and she’s not leaving. she’s GOING to be here. and god, when she gives billie the scholarship letter she spent so long hiding from her because she was so scared of losing her… the way she tries to hold it together when billie's almost in tears of relief to know she's getting out of town...

“my white trash girl… my billie the kid…” WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

again, i’m so glad they gave billie the opportunity to process all this on her own terms. she’s allowed to tell her mother “we’re talking about this later – but i just can’t do this right now”. she’s not obligated to forgive or be the bigger person. she’s allowed to take time to process everything that’s happened between her and her mother.

god when mouse comes on stage to sing their solo in ‘like a saint’… that's me. that kid is me. that little fourteen year old trans kid reminiscing about playing with their action men and their barbies, staining the dress they didn't want to wear, plucking daisies from a field and wearing them like a crown for a king - they're me and i'm them and we are each other and that is eternal. daisies, baby. we keep rising up and there's no getting rid of us.

i love all the creek kid's little interactions in 'like a prayer'. billie RUNNING in to hug mouse in their seat, peaches calling brodie 'brodie BAD BITCH benson', david telling billie he'll never forget what she did for him... man. a family can really be just a white trash girl, a cowboy cheerleader, a saint, a peach and a mouse.

billie deciding to stay with her mother is really beautiful and honestly a pretty satisfactory end for her character – her only motivation to leave was to get a general business degree because she didn’t think there was anything for her in winchester creek. but now she realizes that that’s not what she wants, there IS something for her here and she WILL have the opportunity to do something she truly does want to do.

(but also… yikes my working-class scholarship-student heart CLENCHED when she turned down the scholarship. billie you better turn your ass back around-)

“let’s make a deal – no matter where we are, no matter what’s happened, we’ll meet back at this old creek once a year.” “i’ll do you one better – anytime, anyplace, ANYWHERE but winchester creek.” and they did :’)

the epilogue is so fucking beautiful. "i wish i could say things got better for us…" and they don’t. they don’t pretend like surviving their high school and leaving their bigoted town ended all the hatred they experience. the epilogue literally opens on kelly having a talkshow where she smugly declares that gender affirming care is now a felony in multiple states. but even if things aren’t perfect now, they’ve kept going. betty gets a job at the truck stop, milky abel got a dog (‘that’s a big deal round here!’) and mary-beth ‘got serious about wanting to save people… she’s now a safety officer at seaworld 😌’

'ms banks got fired... i think she's home-schooling now.' - man it sucks to know ms banks is now more able to sink her claws into young impressionable people and make a hundred more kellys in the world to spread her hatred, but... yeah. it's real. this is what happens. this is the sad reality. there's very little justice for the people who create the environment of our suffering, and i'm glad this show wasn't afraid to show that truth for what it is.

‘and even though it took seven years of college, law school and LSATS… i just passed the state bar. with a speciality in human rights law.’ – OUR GIRL IS A LAWYER YALL… BILLIE THE FUCKING KID SPREADING CHANGE AND LIBERATION WHEREVER SHE GOES!!!!!

david: and we got shitty jobs, bad boyfriends-

peaches: GREAT girlfriends-

mouse: and messy one-night stands but we also got TESTOSTEROOOOONE-

MOUSE PULLS AND GETS THE CARE THEY DESERVE BABY!!!

‘we lived beautiful. hell, we lived ugly. but we lived.’ – jesus fucking christ. they lived. after everything, they lived. ryan kopel don’t do this to me you can’t do this to me oh god-

‘and we kept our promise! Every year, once a year, we’d meet up – anytime, anyplace, ANYWHERE but winchester creek… except today.’ – and then the cast behind her unfurls a banner… ‘WINCHESTER CREEK PRIDE 2023’. i’ll say it. i wept.

‘and i love you ‘cause you’re amazing… and i love you ‘cause you’re strong… if it’s hell or heaven you’re raising… well, we just keep marching on…’

fuck yeah, man. we’re daisies and we keep marching on.

#billie the kid #billie the kid musical

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 7 months

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personal happenings and thoughts below the jump. cw talk of medical stuff, death, cancer, mental illness, bipolar, idk, a shit ton.

my dad is dying. he got diagnosed with metastatic liver cancer in may, a week after he turned 70. he got immunotherapy treatments all summer. it shrunk the tumor but also destroyed the rest of his body because he was already just so sick in general. about 3 (4?) weeks ago, they found blood clots in his lungs and an especially large one in his leg. they suggested discontinuing treatment and moving him into hospice care.

i inherited my food allergies and bipolar disorder from him. and i'm trying to use that as a turning point in my own life - doing my best to avoid those foods (gluten non-negotiable, dairy just a bad idea), going to therapy (including IOP), staying on medication, etc. all the good shit.

but it has been so hard watching him die.

He tells my mom how no matter when he sleeps, he has nightmares. Whenever I go back home (out of state) to help, I see the manic and depressive episodes hit fast and hard. I feel like I'm witnessing the brain damage in action, and I feel like I'm watching whatever will happen to me if I make it to that age. I also never sleep like a normal person and have horrible dreams. without the meds I hear background noise in my brain, which I only learned more recently is a form of psychosis.

it's easy to look back and either be angry or sad about how i never got this kind of help as a kid or teen. I had symptoms in early grade school. but it was the 90s (1900s am I right haha) so I doubt there was anywhere my parents could have even taken me for treatment.

I'm trying to just...feel my feelings as they come. Practicing the things I learned in group because they mostly make it manageable. blogging here, i guess. learning not to ruminate too hard on this or the other things in my life which are shit, which idk if i'll ever have the strength to blog about, but maybe someday.

my dad and i have had a more difficult relationship since the you-know-what in 2016. living at home because i could afford nothing else, and coming to the realization that i was non-binary in addition to ace, suddenly became a hellscape with him spewing bigotry so openly. when it gets right down to it, i'm sure he wouldn't have thrown me out on the street. which i know is the bare minimum. it's complicated. but I also know he loves me. I can tell lately he's been thinking back on his life and the mistakes/choices he made. it doesn't make it okay but it's.......something.

I don't know. I spend my days waiting for the crushing sadness to punch me in the chest. It hasn't yet. But it's dark all the time now and it's cold as shit and the holidays are the worst part of the year for me because so many bad anniversaries are coming up. I'm in a place I've only lived for a couple years and I don't really have any friends outside of work (which is, of course, two jobs, because capitalism is a plague).

I know things will happen. Some good things, some bad things, some things with no emotional points awarded. knowing it's gonna hurt is not doing me any favors. but I have to get this out somehow so here it is.

and now for some pics that cheer me up.

my dad and I are both pilots, so this one is cute.

I won an iguana at the carnival as a kid. He lived an extremely spoiled life. And got very long.

and, of course, the wiggly pig (one of amelia's numerous names)

thanks for reading if you've made it this far, or even if you didn't.

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the-anemoi · 1 year

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not to vent on main (i am venting on main) but i HATE how ocd is portrayed because like. like.

HOW is it possible that people joke about haha intrusive thoughts won and then turn around and BASH people for having intrusive thoughts????

HOW do people joke about having a little bit of ocd, only to look at someone who clearly has ocd and who is clearly struggling and deem them the very thing that they are scared of being???? why would you call them crazy for that???

one of the most recent best of redditor updates posts on reddit right now is a guy with ocd. you can tell he has ocd before its explicitly stated. the conflict being discussed is a COMPULSION and he feels SO BAD ABOUT IT. and you go into the comments and you expect people to maybe say he needs therapy, right??

NOPE.

ALL of the top comments are people calling a freak. and scary. and probably going to give the wife a divorce, the VERY THING HIS INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS WERE ABOUT. FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it makes no fucking sense to me and its so disappointing, shit like that makes people feel like they are Wrong for being like that in the first place!!!! its so infuriating!!!!!!

#sorry sorry sorry #just. very upset #its so disappointing to see people act like this when its something i struggle with on the fucking daily #ocd #intrusive thoughts #vent #tw swearing

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yourlocaleldritch · 2 years

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@mechanicaldemonio is showing me West of loathing for the first time. Here are my thoughts so far:

I like the dialogue. How is the character so flexible?

Awwww Russel! Best bird

Pie saver?

Crimbo is a good word.

CAN OF INFINITE BEANS??????

Love how the Brother has no faith in us

Turnip carrrrrr

Why do we walk like that?

Pete! He looks so goofy!

I never wanna hear about spitoon again. All that for a lousy ring.

I like the game soundtrack.

...Cellar Goblin?

Poor Horace :( I hope he stops losing his horses.

Ahh, the infamous Susie. She scares me.

I have acquired a cowboy hat (irl). All he/theys look good in cowboy hats

Noooo not Gary the goblin :(

Pigeon-infused oats? Excuse me?

Bill the cactus man? Is he ok? Stick the newspaper to his face?

Detonation plunger?

HORSE!!!! FEED THE HORSE OATSSSS!!!

NOOOOO THE HORSE IS GONE

Time to engage in mortal combat. Oh, we're dead. Oh, we have won.

GHOST HORSEEEEEEEEEE. Cold horse? Won't eat oats? Why not?

Ayyyyy the horse ate the oats

NO NOT THE GRAVES

Haha Boneyard.

Sleepy snake. NOOO THE SNAKE IS DEAD

Another snake. NOOO NOT THE OTHER SNAKE

GOOD LUCK SNAKE!!!! I like how snek jumps. NOOO THE SNAKE IS DEAD!!!!

Snake horse!!!!!! Yayyyyyyyy. I hope he didn't go to the 12th dimension

Yay we helped Horace!

Awww poor Susie. AWWWWWW NOOOOO SUSIE!!!!

Why the doctor got so much tnt? Why it by the fireplace? Ohhh. Poor doctor.

Cow demon pog

Imagine getting your rifle robbed by a worm in a wizard hat

420!!!!

NO DON'T SHOOT THE SLEEPY GUY

Ayyy Genocidal options

God, why are we so murderous??? Go to therapy???

Evil hat. Thanks for looking out for us narrator.

Hard hat acquired. Genocide run let's goooo.

Spoopy horseeee. Her name is Spectre!

TAKE ALICE FOR THE BETRAYAL!!!!! BETRAYEL IS SWAG!!!!!!

The prologue is over.

We are in Dirtwater

THE GUN ISN'T IN OUR INVENTORY THIS IS AWFUL!!! I WANTED PAIN

Free room

No. Another spitoon. Why. Why. Why. That porcelain cow

What do you call non-binary cowboys? Cow people? Cow-havers?

The monsters are op now. This is very inconvenient.

Necromancer journal! Something I never knew I wanted.

Forces of pie

Bean craft

Another dead snake. *sigh*

Awwww Abigail

ohh God no not another spitoon. No please.

You can't add pride pins to in game cowboy hats. I'm so sad. That would be so cool.

The irl hat has a bi pin on it. I am content with life.

That doll is creepy.

(we gave up sometime after this point)

#west of loathing

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andvys · 9 months

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After reading this last chapter I’ll be honest I did not want Steve x reader endgame bc well how Steve was but then this last chapter made me think and realize how he was stuck in this time where ur heart contradicts with decisions that your brain doesn’t register causing you to make mistakes and Steve was obviously confused when reader said he kissed Nancy and I wouldn’t call him a cheater bc he obviously pushed away and bc someone forces themselves on you you are automatically a cheater. I do think they need to talk bc they are both hurting and in pain and I wanna see growth in Steve and him grovel for her love while also going through idk maybe therapy or idk something where he is also healing while fighting for her love and I can’t speak for you writer or make/force you to do Steve endgame but in my opinion I’d like him to be endgame and that’s honestly sayi my a lot bc Eddie is my all time favorite but in this case I think Steve may have won my heart in this story lol

i’m 100% an Eddie girl too so to know that I managed to make you fall for Steve in this story (despite him being a complete dipshit) makes me feel excited haha 🤭 but…. let’s see how you will feel if our lovely Eddie makes an appearance!

I totally agree with everything you said though! Steve is no cheater after all but he still messed up pretty bad and he won’t know how to fix it so he might stay in a relationship with a girl he’s not in love with. He doesn’t think that fighting for readers love will change anything. To him, she made things pretty clear, he ‘knows’ he lost her and he won’t do anything about it….. right now… in the future though? He is gonna fight for her!

A therapy would do him some good though 😭

#andy’s asks

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adirasayshello · 1 year

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Hello, Internet.

I spend most of my times using my phone. And although I kept track of journals and planners, I can’t write on them because of, 1. I don’t have any plans. 2. The world is too tough for me right now and I can’t seem to catch up. Life has been heavy, not to mention that I am already heavy. (Haha I am a plus size girlie, a depressed, plus size girlie trying to avoid an ED right now because she is really in a bad place right now.)

I was tossing and turning before I remember I used to blog on tumblr on my thoughts as a person and my short poems. And my everyday is like this. I will stay up until morning, and I will wakeup in the afternoon the next day. What do I do with the staying up late? Easy. I think.

I think of so may things on why my life is like this, on why I am unemployed for 6 months now. I didn’t necessarily planned being unemployed but it gets you good. Tbh, I had plans. When I left my previous work, I thought I’d be reaching my dreams. I thought knowing what I want is as easy as getting what I want. Apparently it’s not and the world has been harder on me since.

I won’t get into details of how I was rejected, but I’ll tell you. 10 times, and along with that, I get angry. Kind of in need of therapy angry but I live in a 3rd world country. Thus explaining why I immediately wanted to end this blog because my goddamn electric fan is buzzing. The kind of buzz you get from buying a cheap ass product.

But my thoughts kept me banging my head unto my fist so I am gonna write them all.

I decided I wanna retrieve my old tumblr accnt. Turns out my small brain barely remembers anything so I decided to create a new one.

I wanted to share how angry I am for being unemployed, I wanted to share how angry I am for being fat but I can not do anything about it. I tried getting angry at the people beside me or is currently in my life but that did not end nicely.

There is this undying voice in my head that screams I am not as important as before because I can’t land a job, one interview even told me I am not fucking good enough.

I sob so much I had snot allover me and got even angrier because I spent my whole life studying only to be told I am not good enough. I still hear that voice in me everyday.

I have anger in me that I didn’t want to kill, but rather allocate properly, but I think my depression stops me from doing so so I just sit by my bed and cry all night.

I am getting sleepy, at-least It worked, this is why I wanted to try writing in the first place.

Goodnight brain, I won today, please do not fight me again tomorrow, I deserve sleep.

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ccaptain · 2 years

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technically speaking, normal verse kaeya will never have a chance to be truly happy: while i’m personally not the biggest fan of ‘the curse is slowly killing kaeya’ and, if it’s truly canon, making him be in denial about it to have a valid justification to have not mentioned this until now, it’s... a very sad plot point. my good brother in christ, are you ok?

i know the answer is no but imagine. his bio family sucks with an abusive father and a MIA mother, he has alienated himself from his adoptive family, has alienated himself from his homeland, he’s convinced that his adoptive bro hates him and that they’ll never reconcile, considers himself a traitor and NOW he’s going to fucking die one day and not in an human way, growing old with time?

my opinion is that he just wanted a sliver of normalcy and now he can never have that: he’ll never get to marry or know the joy of being proposed to by the person he loves, or have children seeing him grow old and love him. and that’s not even the biggest problem! he’ll never get a chance to do something substantial to change the world or to be fully remembered because he has severed himself away from the biggest plot point in genshin, aka his homeland. NOT ONLY THAT, he’ll leave the people that he has loved until now in fucking devastation at his death! YOU tell klee that her big brother kaeya died. YOU tell jean that her friend and right hand man died. YOU tell a grief-striken diluc that his brother is fucking DEAD and he has lost that chance to clear the waters with him forever.

if the curse acts, he’ll slowly try to look for warmth in his last moments before slowly fizzing out like an hilichurl in the chasm. he won’t even be remotely coherent or himself while he goes out. like... no wonder his blood is now 80% alcohol. dude will never be okay again

#from another realm -- (ooc)#i just picture literally every muse interacting with him like that meme of 'u good bro?' ' no'. the 'no' is kaeya #can. can we pay for kaeyas therapy? i'm chipping in #dude singlehandedly won an award for being one of the saddest characters in teyvat?#me holding kaeya before: haha i'll inflict damage on him #me holding him now terrified: OH NO MY SCRUNKLY #can we just make a 'hug kaeya alberich day'? just. you know. jump into my inbox and hug him. please

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theharrowing · 2 years

Text

Couldn't Pin You Down

You had finally moved on when that certain someone from your past pops back up, throwing the trajectory of your life into a tailspin. Will you forgive him for his past mistakes, or is it too little too late?

🎳 Yoongi x Female Reader

🎳 word count: 14.8k

🎳 exes to lovers, smut, angst, fluff, somewhat slow burn, nsfw, 18+

🎳 warnings: Yoongi and mc switch. semi-public sex & exhibitionism, fingering, thigh-riding, nipple play, oral sex, throat fucking, anal play, anal sex, sex toys, double penetration, pegging, sub & dom dynamics, play fighting, degradation & light humiliation, spanking & light masochism including a tiny bit of blood, nicknames “baby,” “baby boy,” and “princess.” open/unresolved ending.

🎳 note: I learned a lot about bowling while writing this, but it's not too heavy on the bowling stuff once the story gets rolling (haha, get it, "rolling"!). 🎳 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 🎳 posted march 2022 | read on ao3

"What do you mean he's here?" you whisper loudly through gritted teeth, staring at the floor with your fingers entwined with the laces of your right shoe which you've suddenly forgotten how to tie. It has been months since you heard Yoongi’s name, and you almost did not believe your ears.

Your eyes lose focus on the linoleum floor, trying to wrap your head around the information; around you, the lively sounds of the bowling alley flood your senses. Tonight is the first game of the new season, you came with your lucky shoes in tow, feeling ecstatic, electric, on top of the world, ready to win because not only did your team, Alley Cats, get second place last season, but the team that won first place—The Savage Strikers—lost their star player. You have been confident that this season would be yours. But now, that confidence is dwindling.

"What is he doing back here? He's not supposed to even be in this country, and now he's in this league? What is he doing back here?"

You are spiraling; you have moved to sitting with your head between your hands, wringing your hair like a damp cloth.

"Uh, look," your teammate and best friend Jungkook mutters, "I don't know...I just saw him walk into the bar with The Savage Strikers. I could, uh, I could go find out?"

"No," you respond briskly, feeling as though your heart is sinking. "Don't do that. I'm just going to have to do my best to get my head in the game and not let him distract me."

"What if he’s part of that team? What if we play against his team tonight?" Jungkook asks.

Your eyes meet Jungkook's, and he looks concerned, almost devastated on your behalf. He was there when Yoongi left—when Yoongi accepted a job offer and moved halfway around the world because you were still in school and not ready to leave—not that he had given you the chance to go along, anyway.

Jungkook saw what the aftermath of that event did to you, how your entire world seemed to halt one day, and how, over time, you slowly began to pick up the pieces again. Jungkook was there for you when you went to your first therapy appointment, celebrated with you when you landed your first big job after graduation, and did not hesitate to join you when you chose to pick up bowling as a hobby to help distract you from your stress—a hobby that turned into weekly competition when the owner of the alley approached you about forming a team, dragging his boyfriend Jimin along to create the perfect 3-person squad.

And now he is here. The man who broke your heart, who left you behind when you had plans to start a life together. You feel crushed and, quite frankly, pissed off. Taking a deep breath in, you let the sounds around you fill your ears, grounding you while you let the deep breath out, slowly, over and over, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Heavy, hard-lacquered balls hit the waxed floor, whiz down their lanes, and crash into pins. You hone in on the cacophony of noise, pulling yourself out of your anxiety spiral and into the present moment.

"If we play against him," you respond, finally starting to even out your breathing, looking up at Jungkook, who sits across from you, "we're just gonna have to whoop his ass."

As it turns out, you do not play against The Savage Strikers tonight, much to your relief; you are playing against Team Kim Seokjin, which consists of your friends Seokjin, Hoseok, and Hoseok’s wife. This information, however, does not stop you from nursing your beer and keeping your back firmly to The Savage Strikers whenever you are not sending your bright purple ball hurling toward the pins.

And it goes well, at first. Sure, you feel the urge to look, to turn your head, to see for yourself, but you breathe through it, keep your eyes forward, and pretend Yoongi is not there. Thanks to the noise of the alley, you have not heard his voice, or a voice that closely resembles his as far as you can tell, and you stay on top of your game, soon forgetting all about the ex who infiltrated your Thursday night activity.

That is, until you are standing in the approach, ball in hand and ready to roll your last frame of the night, when Taehyung from The Savage Strikers shouts, "That's it, Yoongi! Get us the win!" and you freeze up.

You do not turn to look; you do not want to see him. But your hands begin to sweat, and your knees buckle. Inside your chest, your heart is pounding, and your lungs are too full but too empty at the same time, and holy shit, when did it get so hot in here? The sounds of a ball meeting the lane, whooshing ahead, and crackling into the pins is so loud.

Cheering fills the space; confirmation that he did well. He got them the win, meaning his team will be moving up the bracket and competing against either your team or Seokjin's team next week. Part of you wants to throw the game, get a gutter ball and hand them to Seokjin, but you hold yourself back and talk yourself down. Bowling is your hobby, your favorite pastime, your chance to see your friends and unwind, and you came here to win, so win, you will.

With a deep inhale, you focus on the pins ahead once more, drowning out the noise of bowlers and congratulatory exclamations. You line up your throw, and exhale, pushing your body to the foul line, extending your arm, and sending your ball forward. And although your ball hurls ahead in a nearly straight line and crashes into the pins, giving your team the strike they need to continue on to next week at the top of your bracket, you know that inertia will not be on your side anymore; not with Yoongi here. The trajectory of your throws may be solid, but the trajectory of your life is changed, and you are not sure how you will navigate it after tonight. But for now, you should celebrate.

As you turn to face your team with a wide smile from your win taking over your features, your eyes immediately pan up, and all you can see is black hair against pale skin and that fucking smirk. Yoongi stands against the railing that separates the bar from the bowling lanes overlooking your team, and his eyes are glued to you.

You hardly notice Jungkook and Jimin crowding you for congratulatory hugs and shouting until their arms are around you; all noise is sucked out of the room like a vacuum as you stand, sweaty and suddenly angry and once again too warm. Your smile falls as you face your ex-fiancé Min Yoongi, the man who left without a trace, who never contacted you again, who never offered so much as an explanation, and your blood begins to boil.

All week, all you have been able to think about is Yoongi. Yoongi standing against the railing, watching you as you make the winning point for your team. Yoongi smirking and walking away once he managed to stop you in your tracks and sully your mood. What is his fucking deal, you wonder. Why did he join The Savage Strikers in the first place? Hadn't he done enough just by returning at all?

Tonight is your team against his, and you cannot help but feel antsy, fixing your hair over and over, and making sure your makeup is just right. Ordinarily, you do not put much energy into looking nice for the games, using this as a time to relax with your two best friends without any pressure, but you feel like flaunting yourself a little since Yoongi clearly has some bullshit up his sleeve.

Yoongi. You grimace at the thought of his name alone.

When Yoongi left you, he was just coming into his own style, starting to wear beanies and streetwear brands, wearing nicer clothing without looking too polished—casual. But last week, he had a fresh cut, black dye job, and an undercut sharp enough to cut glass, with a tight-fitting black leather jacket. You would be lying if you did not think he was by far the hottest he has ever been. Two can play that game.

Although nobody looks great in their bowling shirt, you wear a bra that accentuates your curves a little more, just in case it gets warm and you need to undo a button or two. Purely for revenge purposes, of course, because fuck Min Yoongi, fuck his leather jacket, and his really good haircut, and his stupid hot fucking face, and everything about him.

You try to calm yourself, breathing mindfully as you tuck your bowling shirt into your favorite pair of skinny black jeans—the ones that are extra stretchy and hug your ass just right. You hate how worked up Yoongi makes you—how legitimately angry his presence turns you. And tonight, you are not only going to kick his ass in bowling, but you are going to demand answers, both for why he left you and for just what the fuck he thinks he is doing coming back and joining the league. Your league.

When you arrive, two-thirds of The Savage Strikers are already setting up on their lane, and you approach to find Jimin and Jungkook sitting nervously across from them. Both men gasp when they see you, and you watch as their faces melt into different expressions. Jimin smirks and rolls his eyes, and you know what he is thinking, and, for the record, he is wrong. Jungkook, on the other hand, just looks confused, not used to seeing you put much care into your appearance just to come to the alley.

"Hey, guys," you mutter, taking your bag off of your shoulder and placing your lucky purple ball into the ball return before fishing your shoes out and sitting next to your friends.

"Makeup?" Jungkook asks.

"Someone trying to win her ex back?" Jimin mutters, and you shoot Jimin a stare that would shoot daggers if only it could, grimacing as he flinches into the arms of Jungkook.

"No," you bite back. "I'm just hot for revenge purposes, only. I haven't forgiven him. In fact, seeing him here has made me more pissed off than I have felt in years."

You realize you have been waving your shoe around as you speak, which has made Jimin recoil further into his boyfriend’s strong arms. You are about to continue with your rant when, from your right, a deep, raspy voice you have tried to forget asks, "Is that so?"

Your head whips to the side, and Yoongi is standing with his bowling bag over his shoulder with his leather jacket slung over his arm. His arm, which appears to be covered in black ink—intricate designs snaking from his hand under the coat before appearing only to disappear under his tight black v-cut shirt.

With a huff, you tear your eyes away, not interested in which designs cover his perfect pale skin; you are certainly not interested in how coiffed his hair is this week, and you finish putting on your shoes, then storm up to the bar to get a pitcher of beer for your team. And to get the hell away from Min Yoongi.

Behind you, Namjoon—the captain of The Savage Strikers—approaches, leaning against the bar and nodding to the tender before turning to you to ask if you are okay. As you turn to him, you exhale deeply in an attempt to fortify yourself. You do not want to blow up on him, but he is part of the problem, after all, so you pull your mouth into a very fake smile as you say, "No, Namjoon, I'm great. Thanks for asking!"

Namjoon sighs.

"Look, I'm sorry. He told me you guys patched things up, which is the only reason I—"

"He what?" you interrupt in disbelief.

Namjoon sighs again and pinches his brow.

"I should have called you," he mutters.

And although your anger rises to all new heights, you do not blame Namjoon.

"Okay, well, the damage is done,” you concede. “It's not like you want to find a new player after the season has started, so, we'll just have to handle this like adults."

"So no hard feelings?" Namjoon asks.

The bartender sets down a pitcher of cheap beer and three glasses on the bar in front of you. As you slide your hand into the handle of the pitcher and grab the stacked cups, you give your friend a smirk.

"No hard feelings, but we're wiping the floor with your asses, so you, Yoongi, and Taehyung better be ready to grovel to your queen."

Alley Cats are averaging a pitcher of beer per game as you bring the third one to the table and set it down with a heavy thunk. Although you are friends with two-thirds of The Savage Strikers, you have done a decent job of not interacting with or looking toward them for most of the first game, only having one awkward encounter at the approach where you and Yoongi happened to be throwing at the same time. You went ahead even though it technically was his turn, got a spare, and that was that, you did not look at him again. Sitting this close, you have a better view of Yoongi's arms and the illustrations that cover them, but you keep your eyes on the prize and disregard him as best as you can. Tonight, you are here to win.

And it is not even his physical body that distracts you the most; it is his voice. Coarse and euphonious yet brittle on the ends, with enough rasp to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He mutters and hums in his deep satoori, never really raising his voice unless he is excited, and you hate the way it pulls you back to years ago when you were happy—when that voice called your name and told you that you were perfect, when it moaned in your ear so deliciously. That fucking voice.

For the most part, you are not paying attention to their scores, only concerned with how Alley Cats are doing, but mid-way through the third and final game of the night, Jimin starts nervously muttering about how close the games are. You overhear Yoongi mumble something to Jimin about placing a bet, and you grab your ball from the ball return, readying yourself to take your turn; you have no interest in placing any wagers with him.

You get a strike and turn to do a little victory dance, but Jimin and Jungkook are too busy watching with knitted eyebrows as Yoongi gets ready to toss. You do not mean to look at Yoongi, but you turn your head to see what your friends are staring at and happen to make eye contact.

Yoongi winks and mutters, "Winner gets a kiss?" to which you respond, "Sure, take your pick of one of them," lazily waving your arm in the direction of Jimin and Jungkook before making your way back to your seat, not missing the amused scoff Yoongi sends in return.

Jimin and Namjoon bowl head-to-head and both get spares, keeping your teams neck-in-neck, then Jungkook and Taehyung bowl head-to-head and Taehyung scores one point higher than Jungkook, making it imperative for you to get a strike or spare in order to secure a third ball and give yourself more than enough room to kick Yoongi's ass—and the rest of the team, too.

You bowl first, knocking down nine pins, then Yoongi bowls, knocking down seven. As long as he does not get all three in the next shot, you are okay, but you want that tenth pin so you can score even more points over them out of spite.

The last pin on your lane is all the way to the left, in seventh position, which is the curve you do best, and you hardly line the ball up. Instead, you go straight from the ball return to the foul line, and chuck that bad boy onto the lane unceremoniously, watching it curve perfectly into the tenth pin, and doing so nonchalantly enough that, when you turn around, all five men at the bowling table are shocked.

Yoongi's smirk seems to have been wiped from his face, and you walk back to the ball return, eyes on Yoongi, watching him line up his shot with your tongue pressed into your cheek. Perhaps your sudden boldness makes him nervous, or he is just not up for the shot, but Yoongi knocks one of the three pins over, securing his team's loss.

Yoongi turns, face to the ceiling, with a bend in his knees, groaning over his poor throw. Namjoon and Taehyung insist that he did great, that the game is only two points off, but you remind them that you still have that precious third throw in the last frame as you pick up your lucky ball, turn to The Savage Strikers, and chide them.

"Get ready to grovel to your queen!" you shout, sending them a wink before lining your ball up, flinging it down the lane and straight into the center with enough momentum to knock all ten pins down.

You can already hear Jimin and Jungkook roaring behind you, and, although you kicked their asses, Namjoon and Taehyung are shouting, "All hail the queen!"

Yoongi, however, is silent, and you assume, unimpressed. That is, until you turn around, stopped in your tracks as Yoongi gets down on his knees in front of you, with his hands clasped in front of his chest. You feel taken aback, especially by how soft Yoongi's features are, how he almost seems to be pleading to you with his eyes. The sight stirs a lot up inside of you, and you feel yourself forcing your gaze away from him—the air is stagnant and too heavy in your lungs. Your face falls to a flat, uncertain expression, and you clear your throat, walk past Yoongi and leave the bowling area hastily, up to grab some drinks.

When you get to the bar, leaning on your elbows and taking a moment to rub your hands over your temples and along the sides of your head, an arm wraps around your shoulders. You do not have to look to know it is Jimin; his signature is the arm on the shoulder, and his classic floral and citrus smell hits your nose almost immediately.

"That was amazing," Jimin gushes, squeezing your shoulder in his hand. "Not only did you kick Yoongi's ass, but you looked so cool!"

You feel happy, you do, but something about Yoongi's presence, especially seeing him on his knees, makes you feel things—nostalgia, sadness, a tinge of arousal, and other things you have no interest in feeling at the moment.

"Thanks, Jimin," you remark, trying your best to sound happy.

The bartender comes around, and you order six whiskey sours. Typically, as a show of good faith, you buy a round for both teams when you make the scoring point, since most people in the league are on friendly terms with one another. It is not your intention to leave Yoongi out, so you swallow the lump in your throat as all six drinks are placed onto a tray for you to take back to the table. Jimin trails behind as you carry your peace offering, and when you return, you are surprised to find Jungkook and Yoongi are gone. You do not make assumptions about their whereabouts, and set the tray down for the others to enjoy.

You, Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung toast, and you thank them for a fun game, then drink half of your cocktail in one long gulp. Namjoon and Taehyung are in good spirits as always and easily make chatter with Jimin around you, and after a while, you begin to glance around, wondering where Jungkook is.

Jimin must notice, because he nudges your arm and says, "He probably went to the arcade."

This bowling alley truly has it all—karaoke rooms, a sports lounge, and an arcade. You take one of the full drinks and make your way up toward the bar before veering to the right. It is dimmer in the arcade room, full of blinking lights and a chorus of chiptune tracks, which always makes walking into the space a bit disorienting, at first.

After a stroll around the somewhat crowded area, you deduce that Jungkook is not in there. That is, until you pass a shoot-'em-up zombie game booth with the curtains drawn, and you hear a familiar voice from inside.

"Well, maybe you should have told her that," Jungkook says.

There is a grumble in response that you cannot fully make out, but the next words are clear as you hear Yoongi mutter, "Huge mistake."

Your heart begins to pound, pumping your blood at a dizzying rate through your body, and you feel glued in place.

"I get that," Jungkook responds, "but you must have known she wouldn't be pleased to see you unannounced."

Yoongi sighs, and for the first time since he has been back, you are eager to hear what he has to say.

Before he has a chance to respond, however, Jimin approaches with the full drink that you left behind, shouting, "There you are! Did you find Jungkook yet?"

You would bury your face in your hands if only they were not both full, and when the curtain opens to a surprised Jungkook looking back at you, you gasp, flinching away. Your eyes are wide, your heartbeat is too loud, and coherent words do not make their way from your trembling lips—in fact, no words do.

"H-hey," Jungkook mutters as he awkwardly leaves the arcade booth, squeezing past you to Jimin. Jimin hands Jungkook a drink, and Jungkook looks nervously between you and the booth, where Yoongi has not moved from.

"Maybe you should talk to him," Jungkook finally suggests. His voice falters, but Jimin nods along because although he was not here to catch any of the conversation, when it comes to Jungkook, nodding along is something Jimin does best.

You hesitate, staring at Jungkook apprehensively, but something in his eyes urges you to turn to the arcade booth; Jungkook would not be sending you into a lion's den after everything you went through—everything he was by your side for. So, you take a deep, fortifying breath and turn. When you look past the curtain, Yoongi is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, staring ahead at the game's attract mode screen. The curtain on Yoongi's side is still drawn, so he sits in near darkness as lights and colors dance across his face and arms.

When you take the one step needed to close the gap between yourself and the booth, Yoongi does not move. And when you lean forward and say, "Hey," he still does not, so you continue with, "I got everyone a drink, including you. Want it?"

Yoongi finally turns, looking at the drink in your hands, studying it silently before taking it and muttering, "Thank you."

Meekly, you ask if you can join Yoongi, and he simply shrugs, leaving the proverbial ball entirely in your hands—something it has not been in years.

So you decide to sit in the booth. What could it hurt? You are both adults, you are both free to leave at any point, and you cannot help but think about what little bit of Yoongi's and Jungkook's conversation you overheard. The words huge mistake dance around in your mind, reminding you that you deserve an explanation.

But Yoongi says nothing, just stares ahead at the zombies as they amble towards him on screen, exploding from invisible gunshots while INSERT COINS 0/3 flashes in big yellow text. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, and for the first time in years, his scent hits you, washing over your senses in a way you had forgotten about. Amidst the musk and citrus is a hint of something new—something a little floral, a little woody—and you look down at the almost empty glass in your hands as you slowly and deeply inhale.

"Didn't realize you were so good at bowling," Yoongi finally mutters.

You chuckle quietly and purse your lips as you nod unenthusiastically because although you chose to sit here, it is incredibly fucking awkward.

"Yeah," you respond. "I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me anymore."

And you do not necessarily mean for your words to be so sharp; you sat down with a curious mind, hoping for Yoongi to explain himself. But you find it hard to bite your tongue, still feeling the dull, painful sting that he wrought. Yoongi knows you, though—knows your attitude, your emotional intricacies, even after all this time—so rather than seeming bothered, he hums in agreement before lifting the drink to his lips.

Yoongi doesn't sip it before muttering, "Whiskey sour, huh?" and when you turn to look at him, he is smiling. It is a shy, nostalgic smile, taking you back with him to memories of crowded bars, of loud clubs, of kitchen experiments, and of date nights with whiskey sours.

"Oh, uh, yeah," you confess, looking down at your fingers that tap against the glass cradled between them. "It's still my favorite."

When you look back up, Yoongi's gaze is focused on you. His eyes are soft, and his lips are parted, the edges quirked ever so slightly. So many thoughts flood your mind, but none of them are coherent, so none of them come out; instead, you sit staring at one another. It is almost as if, in this moment, the last several years never happened. Almost as if you are two amicable adults sharing a loving glance.

But you are not, and there is an air of heartbreak still floating tensely over and around the two of you, keeping you apart.

Yoongi finally speaks up, voice raspy and quiet as he asks, "What did you overhear?"

You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks warm up. Suddenly, it feels hard to look at Yoongi, so you turn ahead, staring at the button pads and fake guns sticking out of the front of the machine, letting your vision blur around them, blowing out tiny details until they are nothing but obscure shapes painted in bright primary colors.

"Not much," you admit, "just Jungkook telling you to talk to me. Only thing I heard you say was, 'huge mistake'."

Silence hangs, and when Yoongi says nothing, you look up, finding him still watching you with the same expression, only his lips are more downturned.

"What was a huge mistake?" you ask.

Yoongi chews on the inside of his mouth, and you take this opportunity to finish your drink, tilting your head back slowly as the cold liquid coats your throat, tasting the whiskey and lemon on your tongue. Yoongi was full of long pauses back then, and you anticipate the same to be true now, so you do not ask again, letting your eyes fall to the empty glass cradled between your fingers while you wait.

"There were—" Yoongi pauses, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his drink. "There were many mistakes—huge mistakes. Leaving you being the biggest."

Tears prickle at the back of your eyes, taking you by surprise, and you do your best to blink them away. When you turn to look at Yoongi, his eyes are glassy; he seems to be glancing past you.

"I thought that I had no choice but to take the job. My dad was pressuring me, and I felt like I couldn't back down. I was terrified of disappointing him." Yoongi's eyes shift, meeting yours, and your breath hitches. "It was stupid. I was young and stupid, and I was scared to tell you because I knew you would urge me to follow my dreams instead of fulfilling his. I knew you would think I was being pathetic. I couldn't even look at you because I was so ashamed, so I—" Yoongi's voice cracks, and his eyes fall. "So I left."

Your breath comes out in a soft tremble, sadness lilting the ends. "I would have gone with you."

"No," Yoongi responds as he looks back into your eyes, shaking his head softly. "No. I moved a lot; I worked constantly. You were in school, and your education was way more important. You needed to stay."

"That's not fair though," you mutter. "That's not your choice to make."

"I'm sorry," Yoongi says, and the words ricochet through you. They bounce around in your brain, shoot down your throat and choke your airway. They send the blood flowing through your veins at breakneck speeds, forcing every hair on your body to stand straight up. I'm sorry. Those two little words you never thought you would hear him say—two little words he said so easily—said as if they were nothing.

"Sorry for what?" you ask, because if those words were so fucking easy, then maybe the next ones will be, too.

Yoongi takes another drink, his glass now about half empty.

"I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for not being honest. I'm sorry for being too fucking pathetic to call you, to tell you I was sorry, to beg you to forgive me. I'm sorry."

You do not know what to say, and frankly, you are kind of angry. Of course, the reason he left was so fucking innocuous. It boils your blood that the Min Yoongi you knew and loved and planned on spending the rest of your life with left without a word to move around the world and be his father's lapdog. The Min Yoongi you saw a future with, who you loved with your whole heart, easily traded everything for a dream that was not even his. But although you are furious, you cannot help but feel sad for him, knowing what he lost, wondering what he must have felt. You cannot look into his eyes and hate him when he is sitting here, in the flesh, apologizing. But you are not going to crumble so easily.

"So what," you bite, "you're just back now? As if nothing ever happened, you're just waltzing back?"

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes flashing with mirth, which takes you by surprise.

"Yeah," he responds, smirking and tilting his head as if challenging you. "I am."

You want to smile, to laugh, to shout, to slap the crooked fucking smile off of Yoongi's face; so many things at once. But you mimic his head tilt, eyebrows rising incredulously. "I don't forgive you."

"I know," Yoongi acquiesces as he raises his glass to his lips, tipping his head back to drink the last of the cocktail, and you would be damned if your eyes did not watch the curve of his neck, the bob of his throat, how his lips gently stick to the glass as it is pulled away.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Yoongi continues, "I fucked up."

You need another drink. Yoongi is giving you just enough to pique your interest, keeping you hungry for crumbs—no, making you hungry for crumbs—and you need another fucking drink.

"So, now what?"

Yoongi's smile is sweet for a split moment before it sharpens once more, giving you goosebumps.

"Now," Yoongi declares, "I get on my knees and beg."

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and suddenly the zombie groans behind the chiptune music seem so loud. The air feels thicker and warmer and you wonder whether Yoongi has always been sitting so close. Everything feels overwhelming, yet you make no move to exit, sitting and watching Yoongi as he sets his empty glass into a cup holder on the side of the machine and then rotates, facing you. Yoongi pries the empty glass from your fingers before leaning forward, angling himself in front of you to reach the cup holder that sits on your side of the machine, never taking his eyes off of you.

Now Yoongi's scent is strong, filling your senses and disarming you entirely. Yoongi's fingers slowly leave the glass, his hand slowly retreats, but he does not move, leaning forward, crowding your space, as if he is waiting to see what you may do. But you feel unable to do anything. The man you hate, the man who broke your heart and upended your life, is inches away, looking beautiful as hell and smelling like heaven, and you are unable to do anything but watch him.

"Please, let me beg," Yoongi rasps, and you can feel all of the air trickle haphazardly from your lungs, fluttering between your teeth.

"Yoongi," you begin, "I don't—"

"You don't have to forgive me," Yoongi continues, leaning closer, speaking softer, deeper. "But let me at least try. Please, baby."

Baby. Your breath hitches then heaves—everything that was still in your lungs gets knocked out from that one word.

Baby. The way his voice rasps when he says it, how it sounds exactly like it sounded all those times years ago, sending your heart into a frenzy. You do not want to cave so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you did not want that back—to be called baby, to let Yoongi please you in ways only he knows how to.

"Please," Yoongi mutters, his voice so quiet it is almost a whisper.

You reach back with your left hand, awkwardly trying to tug the curtain closed all the way, and Yoongi sees you, following the movement with widening eyes before grabbing onto the curtain and dragging it all the way shut.

When Yoongi's hand releases the cloth, shrouding you in even more darkness than before, his fingers brush down your neck, gently pulling you in his direction, and you follow the movement, angling your face to connect your lips to his.

You let out a whimper as a chill rolls up your spine, bursting into waves of fireworks throughout your entire chest cavity, and you gently grab his shirt, tugging at the collar to pull him closer. Yoongi moans against your mouth, licking at your lips, asking for an invitation.

Yoongi tastes like whiskey sour with a hint of long drives to the sea, night markets, and lazy Sundays, and you melt, sighing sweetly as you part your lips and beckon him to taste you, gripping onto his shirt tighter.

"Fuck, I missed this," Yoongi groans, fingers cradling your neck while his other hand grabs your thigh.

"I don't forgive you," you whine, deepening the kiss by licking into Yoongi's mouth, chasing the flavor you have craved for so long.

Yoongi's fingers tighten on your thigh, and though they are not too high—closer to your knee—you suddenly ache for him. You want to beg Yoongi to touch you, to taste you, to make you fall apart in a way only he knows how to, but you do not want to give him that satisfaction just yet, holding that card close to your chest.

"I don't expect you to," Yoongi responds, gently sucking on your bottom lip and drawing a gasp of air from you. You can feel Yoongi smile against your mouth before he pulls away from the kiss entirely, resting his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to meet Yoongi's gaze, and from this close, he is all soft edges and sweet memories.

"I made a huge mistake," Yoongi mutters, holding eye contact and gently tracing the delicate lines of your neck as if committing them to memory once more. "I've regretted every day. I never stopped thinking about you. I'm so sorry. It's okay if you don't forgive me, but I need you to know, I need you to hear me say it. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

"You broke my heart," you respond, voice almost a whisper—a secret meant only for him. "I almost dropped out of school. I was devastated, Yoongi. Some days it felt like I couldn't breathe, like my lungs forgot how."

"I'm sorry," Yoongi responds, voice trembling on the edges. "I'm so sorry."

"You never called; you never said a word." Your voice breaks at the end, and you swallow the urge to cry.

Softly, Yoongi mutters, "I felt so ashamed; I didn't know what to say."

You squeeze your eyes shut; you do not want to cry. Here, in the dark, with your hands on your ex's chest, while zombies groan and explode against dramatic 90s horror chiptune music, you do not want to cry.

"What if you leave again," you utter, feeling as pathetic as you sound but eager to get the words out. "What if you—what if we start again and you leave me? I can't go through that again, Yoongi. I ca—I can't."

Yoongi does not respond, and when you open your eyes, you find his fluttering closed. His hand falls from your neck, finding purchase on your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know what to say," Yoongi finally responds, opening his eyes once more. "I don't want to mutter empty promises. I don't deserve you; I know that. And coming here like this was selfish, I know it was wrong of me to show up out of the blue, but I couldn't stay away. I'm not leaving again, but I know you have no reason to believe me. I'm sorry."

"What about the business?" you ask. "What do you mean you're not leaving again?"

Yoongi chuckles, biting his bottom lip before. "I sold it."

Your heart pounds, breath hitches. "Y-you sold it?"

"I became CEO last year. I did everything expected of me, and once my dad stepped down, I sold it. I'm done with it."

At a loss for words, you settle for, "Oh."

"I bought a house and came back," Yoongi continues, squeezing your arm and leg. "I don't plan to move again. Unless you..." Yoongi trails off.

"Unless I what?" you press him.

"Unless you wanted to. I could—we could start over anywhere. Anywhere you wanted."

"I don't think I'm ready for this conversation," you confess.

A zombie lets out a low, pained growl, and it is impossible to hold back a chuckle, breaking the tension. Yoongi's hand travels up your arm, back to your neck, as he gently pulls you closer, kissing the corners of your mouth and the tip of your nose, and you smile, leaning into the feeling.

"That's fine," Yoongi responds sweetly. "I can wait as long as you did. Longer, even. If you let me, I would wait my entire life to earn your love again."

"Again?" you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Do you really think I stopped loving you? Even when I hated you, even when I never wanted to hear your name uttered again, even when I thought my life was crumbling, even when I wasn't sure if I would never be able to heal, I loved you. Everywhere I went, I saw you. When I tried to meet new people..." you trail off, and Yoongi connects your lips, groaning softly as he pulls you impossibly closer, rekindling flames in your chest and setting a small spark between your legs.

You drop one of your hands to grab his hand that rests on your thigh, feeling the warmth of Yoongi's skin, the length of his fingers, and you tug it up your thigh, closer to your heat. Yoongi gasps as you smirk against his lips.

"Beg me for forgiveness," you instruct, opening your mouth as Yoongi's fingers dig into the denim over your leg, and his throat sends a groan from his lips to yours.

Yoongi has never needed more coaxing than this—has always been a man of few words when his body could speak volumes, instead—so he wastes no time sliding his fingers along the denim until they are touching you right where you want him. You sigh into the feeling and attempt to open your legs wider, but there is no room, so Yoongi lifts your leg, slamming your heel into the arcade case and making you giggle as the sounds of zombies groaning bring you back to reality for a moment. In a rush, you undo your pants, and Yoongi's hand is breaching the opening quickly, fingers touching you over soft panties, rediscovering your curves and folds.

"Fuck, I've missed this, too," Yoongi growls, and you hold in a moan, lolling your head back against the wooden booth with an unceremonious thwack.

"Please," you whimper and Yoongi obliges, pulling the cloth that covers you to the side.

You take Yoongi by the face and crane your neck to reach him, to keep his lips against yours so you can moan into his mouth. Yoongi's fingers start at your entrance, then move up to your clit, drawing circles with the slick he has gathered, forcing you to mewl into his mouth. Your lips hang slack while Yoongi explores you with his tongue, sucking and nipping and exchanging sweet little sounds of his own.

Yoongi plays you like an instrument, fingers deftly moving in patterns he memorized long ago, hardly needing to relearn the cords and note progressions, allowing muscle memory to guide him. And oh, do you sing pretty for him, letting out sounds and stammers that only urge him to give you more. With one finger, Yoongi enters you, pushing in quickly, crooked at just the right angle, and setting off a new round of tiny explosions all over your body, under your skin.

"This what you want, baby?" Yoongi rasps.

"Y-yes," you whimper, "yes, Yoongi, please."

"More?" Yoongi grins.

You nod your head desperately, and Yoongi does as he is asked, pushing a second finger into you, stretching you around his knuckles as he opens his mouth against yours to receive your throaty praise. Your entire body trembles as Yoongi fingers you in small strokes, caught in the confines of your jeans, which have inched down over your ass just enough to make some space for him. Your fingers stroke Yoongi's undercut, feeling the short hairs tug roughly against your skin before tangling in his hair.

Yoongi growls into your mouth as he pulls his fingers all the way out, leaving the warmth of your pants. He moves his face just far enough away to slot his fingers into his mouth and, with a deep, pleasing groan, taste you.

"Fuck," Yoongi hisses with wide, hungry eyes, "I need you right now. We have to go somewhere else; I need to taste more of you."

You nod a quick, somewhat frantic gesture as you pull your pants up and fasten your button. Yoongi exits first, abandoning the empty glasses in the cupholders, and when you manage to push your curtain open with a shaky hand, Yoongi is already there, reaching for your hand and tugging you gently to your feet. The lights and sounds of the arcade are dizzying—or maybe it is the intoxication from the whiskey sours and warmth of Yoongi's hand that are dizzying. You assume that this will lead to the two of you grabbing your stuff from the lane, climbing into one of your cars, and driving to one of your places, so when Yoongi leads you into one of the private bathrooms, you feel a bit shocked.

"Yoongi, what are we doing?" you exclaim, but Yoongi answers in actions once more where words are meaningless, locking the door and shedding his bowling shirt, leaving a tight black tee that hugs his chest and arms deliciously. The sound of his shirt buttons hitting the sink in a clatter quietly echo around the room, and you finally take in the ink that is scrawled all over Yoongi's skin, floral patterns and stippled foods all in blacks and greys, from his wrists to where his shirt sleeves begin.

Yoongi catches you staring and points to his left elbow, closing in on you as you back up toward the wall. "A sakura tree branch, like the one we shared our first kiss under."

Then to his wrist, "Peonies, like the ones I bought you when we moved into our apartment."

With a gasp, your foot hits the wall, and you open your hands, bracing yourself against the cold tile. Yoongi leans on his palms against the wall, caging you between his arms, and when you eye up a medley of sliced fruits on Yoongi's bicep, he follows your gaze before smiling sweetly at you.

"Our picnic on the sea," Yoongi reminds you. "We had pomegranates and those pears that were the sweetest thing I had ever tasted, second only to you."

"A-all of these tattoos," you begin, but Yoongi finishes your sentence.

"They're all pieces of you."

You feel stunned, heart pounding nauseatingly fast as your eyes dart around from design to design, wondering what some of them symbolize while figuring out others.

"Anyway," Yoongi growls, leaning forward so his mouth nearly touches yours, "I came here to beg, and beg I shall."

Yoongi connects your lips once more, licking hungrily into your mouth as one of his hands travels down to your pants and flicks your button open. Yoongi pulls out of the kiss, and goosebumps cover your skin as he tugs the denim down, sinking to his knees in front of you. With some struggle, Yoongi helps you step out of the jeans without taking off your shoes, then looks up at you, taking in your legs, your panties, your heaving chest, and your face. His expression is a mix between hunger and disbelief, and he licks his lips as he sits up on his knees and leans forward, slowly laving a stripe across your clothed pussy.

"F-fuck," you stammer, watching wide eyes as his tongue continues to tease you.

Yoongi's hands press against your thighs, fingers spread, thumbs massaging the skin so close to your heat that you whimper, tempted to beg him to touch you. But you let Yoongi take his time as he gently rakes his nose over your clit, breathing a warm breath over the moist spot he has left on the thin fabric that covers you. With one hand, Yoongi pulls your panties to the side, groaning as he licks a slow, thick stripe over your slit, parting your folds and tasting as much of you as he can, and you bite back a moan, whimpering instead as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

One hand continues to brace you against the wall while the other tangles in Yoongi's hair, gripping onto the soft locks as he laps at you at a measured, languid pace. Your eyes flutter shut as your head lolls back against the cold tile wall, and Yoongi brings you closer to euphoria alternating between long and short licks and sucking gently on your clit in a pattern he seems to have committed to memory—a pattern that only he knows. From outside, someone jiggles the bathroom handle, sending a wave of excitement tingling over you when you remember you are not alone.

Yoongi takes one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder, and you let out a small yelp as he dives back in, picking up his pace and licking you like a man starved. Two fingers enter you and, without giving you a chance to adjust, Yoongi fucks them into you, once again crooking them just right, hitting every spot you need him to, sending you to the brink of collapse in no time at all.

"Please come, baby," Yoongi rasps, and you unravel at the sound, the feeling, from everything, closing your eyes and leaning into the wall as your legs tremble, threatening to topple you over, especially with the only foot you have on the floor being covered in a smooth bowling shoe sole.

"F-fuck, Yoongi, yes!" you cry, using both hands now to grip onto the wall behind you.

Your hips convulse as you ride Yoongi's face, stifled moans coming out as squeals and shattered breaths. As you come, Yoongi does not slow his pace, and you lurch forward, grabbing onto his head with both hands to stay upright.

"Need to take those shoes off," Yoongi mutters as your hips slow, and you finish riding out your high.

"Let's just get out of here," you respond, panting as you lean back against the wall.

Yoongi groans, impatient and horny, gripping tightly to your thighs. "Need you now."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "We're in a bathroom, Yoongi. Let's just go."

Yoongi looks up, pouting, nibbling on his bottom lip petulantly.

"Yoongi, you made me wait years, you can wait twenty more minutes."

Yoongi huffs and sits back on his knees, grabbing your pants and straightening them out for you. "You're right. Let's go to mine?"

You nod and hum in agreement, reaching for your jeans. Yoongi hands them to you but takes you by the wrist, causing you to look into his eyes. He looks sad, his lips pulled into a straight line, but then he smiles softly and sweetly.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi mutters.

"I know," you respond, pulling your wrist from his grip and stepping into your pants, moving your gaze to the floor.

Once you are all straightened out and ready to go, you check your phone to find several missed calls and texts from Jungkook, the last one being "Locker 613, get home safely!"

You smile to yourself as you tuck the phone back into your pocket. Jungkook must have stashed your and Yoongi's bowling bags into a locker after you never came back, and you make sure to stop and grab those on your way out of the bowling alley.

Once outside, Yoongi leads the way, taking you to a black sports car that looks way flashier than you expect from him. The interior lights up purple when the engine is turned on, and the ride is so smooth you feel like you may be floating on air. Or, perhaps, part of you is floating on air. Still unable to process everything that's transpired, you almost feel a bit removed from your body—numb but also acutely aware of every single sound, touch, sight, and scent.

You spend the car ride watching lights whiz by, streaks and splotches against the cool night sky, only to realize, as Yoongi pulls into the driveway of a rather impressive home, that you have no idea where he has taken you. This is, of course, a detail you can discover later, as you are not really interested in the particulars at the moment. All you can think of is him. The way he used to touch you, the way he used to fuck you—like your bodies were meant for each other and nobody else. You wonder how he has changed and if he has learned any new tricks while out there in the world without you.

Yoongi's home is large, and when you step inside, you find it very open and minimally furnished. You take off your shoes and follow Yoongi into the kitchen, where he leans against his cold marble countertop and offers you something to drink. In silence, share a glass of water, then Yoongi stands with both palms open on the countertop, staring at you. You can tell that the wheels are turning in his mind, so you lean on the counter opposite him and wait for him to speak. Instead, Yoongi moves from the counter and leaves the kitchen, walking to where you can only assume is his bedroom, so you follow behind.

The bedroom is dim, and when you enter, Yoongi is already shedding his shirt, tossing it aside, and reaching for his belt. You advance quickly and stop Yoongi's hands, cupping yours over his, making him gasp, and his lip juts out, pouting petulantly. Briefly, you search his eyes for a sign that you are on the same page—that he remembers the power play you used to engage in—and when Yoongi sniffles and casts his gaze downward like a scorned child, you bite back a smirk. It has been years, yet you fall into your old roles seamlessly, understanding that Yoongi expects to be punished for what he has done to you.

"What are you doing?" you demand.

"I—I don't know," Yoongi whines.

"Why were you getting undressed?"

Yoongi's eyes widen, and although you have to look up to meet his gaze, he seems smaller, more timid.

"S-sorry," Yoongi whines, and you slap Yoongi's hands away from his belt before grabbing onto his jaw, noticing how his breath hitches as he looks at you fearfully.

"You will speak when I say you can, and you will follow my instructions, understand?"

Yoongi nods as best as he can in your grip, and you snarl, "That was a question, use your words!" to which he croaks a weak, "Yes, princess."

"Good," you sneer, pushing Yoongi's face away from you, watching as he stands still, waiting for instruction.

"Do you still have your toys?" you ask, and Yoongi responds with a feeble nod as he mutters, "Yes, princess."

"Get them," you command, and Yoongi complies, walking to his closet and taking out a familiar black plastic bin, carrying it to you.

As Yoongi sets the container down, the sounds of metal, glass, and silicone shift and clink, and you stand with your arms folded over your chest, watching as Yoongi removes the lid. It is as if no time has passed; everything is right where you remember, and the sweet smells of the lube bottle and silicone toys meet your nose as you survey the contents of the bin.

"Take off your pants and get on the bed, baby boy," you instruct, watching in delight as Yoongi's hands shake, his huge, nimble fingers making unsteady work of his leather belt before he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them to the floor.

Yoongi seems to curl in on himself as he stands up, posture all fucked up and small, and when he crawls onto his bed, awkwardly scrambling to the center, you advance, pulling off your shirt and bra, then undoing your jeans and pushing them to the floor. As you step out of your pants, you command Yoongi to get on his knees and face the headboard, which he does.

You get on the bed behind Yoongi, just far enough that he can stick his ass out as he grabs onto the wooden bed frame for stability, arms outstretched as his hands grip the upper edge of the headboard. Slowly, delicately, you run your hands down Yoongi's back, surveying the many tattoos that bleed over from his shoulders and snake around his ribcage, covering his pale skin, then you stop with both hands gripping his ass over his tight black briefs.

Yoongi whimpers, and you lift your right hand, landing a cursory slap against the fabric, watching him jiggle lightly from the impact. He lets out a huff of air from the contact, and when you rub the spot you slapped, his head lolls back.

"Why am I punishing you?" you ask.

"I—I left you," Yoongi cries out.

You lift your hand and crash it down harder this time, soliciting a yelp to fall past Yoongi's lips.

"Why did you leave me?"

"I'm stupid," Yoongi whines, and you spank the same spot, watching his hips jerk forward.

"What else?"

"I'm selfish," Yoongi responds, whimpering expectantly, anticipating another slap.

You sit up on your knees and slot a leg between his, taking Yoongi's hips and grinding his ass on your thigh. Yoongi moans, arching his back into the friction of the fabric between you, and you squeeze him harshly as you tease him.

"What else, baby boy?"

"I'm weak," Yoongi croaks, "I'm pathetic, I'm, I'm—"

Yoongi's voice breaks, and you are certain he has begun to cry, so you stop grinding and sit back on your heels, ready to give him something more to cry about. Your left hand slaps Yoongi on the ass, and he yelps, hips shaking from the impact.

"How are you going to make it up to me?" you sneer.

"A-anything you want, princess," Yoongi whimpers. "Please, use me, hurt me, make me cry! I'll do anything."

You sit up on your knees again, tugging Yoongi's hips back and grinding his ass against you.

Yoongi mewls, begging, "Please, please," and you indulge him for a moment, loving the way his voice sounds so broken and desperate. Then you take a handful of his hair and pull, bowing his back until you are speaking into his ear.

"I don't think you could take the amount of pain I endured, baby boy," you growl, and Yoongi whimpers, continuing to beg, "Please," in a shattered whisper.

With your free hand, you slap Yoongi's ass, holding your thigh firmly between his cheeks and watching him shudder and shake. You take Yoongi's throat in both hands, gently tugging him back against you again, and growl, "Go get the toys you want me to use, okay, baby boy?"

Yoongi croaks, "Yes, princess," and, when you let go of him, he scrambles off the bed to the plastic bin, taking out a thick purple dildo, a strap, a metal butt plug, and a bottle of lube. He brings the items to the bed, then gets back into position in front of the headboard. The weight and texture of the dildo are familiar in your hand, and you inspect it, feeling the soft material against your fingers.

"Spotless," you note, "do you use this often, baby boy?"

Yoongi's head shakes, and he whimpers that he cleaned it for you, which fills you with a sense of joy, knowing he hoped you would want to fuck him with it just as you had years ago. You hook your fingers into the waistband of Yoongi's briefs and pull them down, gasping at the sight of him—his pretty puckered hole and round, soft cheeks.

You almost lose your composure, feeling overwhelmed by the familiar sight and memories of nights spent exploring his body in a way you have never done with anyone else, but you spread Yoongi open and lean in, licking a long stripe over his asshole, grinning as Yoongi whimpers and shakes in your grasp. Yoongi tastes like home—tastes like heaven—and you dive your tongue inside, stretching him gently around the muscle, squeezing his soft skin in your hands.

As you eat Yoongi out, you find the butt plug and bottle of lube, squirting enough liquid onto it to cover the length of the toy in a nice sheen. You lean your head to one side against Yoongi's ass while lining the cold metal up to his hole, and Yoongi moans loudly as you slowly push the toy inside, working it in and out, bit by bit, filling him more each time. Once the toy is pushed past the tapered end, Yoongi trembles, head falling forward against the bed frame, and you take the end in your fingers, moving it around just enough to elicit a response, smirking as Yoongi mewls and writhes from the sensation.

"On your back, baby boy," you command, and Yoongi falls forward before wriggling around so that he is laying on his back, facing you.

You pull Yoongi's briefs all the way down, licking your lips at the sight of his cock. Pale and heavy with hints of red and a dribble of precum, and fuck, you have missed this cock so badly. You keep your panties on as you turn and straddle Yoongi's chest, backing your pussy up so he can reach it with his mouth, then you take Yoongi's cock in one hand while reaching down to push on his butt plug with the other.

"You know the rule," you instruct, "first to come loses. Winner gets the strap."

Yoongi whines, "Not fair, I have a disadvantage."

You tug on the plug in Yoongi's ass as a sign of acknowledgment.

"Shouldn't have been a bad boy, then hmm?"

With a pump of Yoongi's cock, you take him into your mouth, matching your movements with your hand, swirling your tongue around his head, and Yoongi takes your hips, bringing your clothed pussy into his mouth, licking wet, greedy circles over you. Already, his mouth feels amazing, so you tug on the toy in his ass in hopes of working him up faster. Although you would love to fuck him in the ass, it has been a while since you have been double penetrated by Yoongi and the thick purple dildo, and you want it so badly, you need to win at all costs.

The game starts innocently enough. Yoongi pulls your panties to the side and shoving two long, talented fingers inside of you, feeling the wetness from your first orgasm squelch around him. But as you begin to get Yoongi deeper into your throat, he starts to become more aggressive, fingering you harder with one hand while prodding at your asshole with the other. You fear that, at this rate, you may not be able to hold back much longer, so you try to pull your hips away from Yoongi, making it so he cannot reach you with his mouth.

Yoongi pulls his fingers from you, shoving you by the hips onto the bed, and with a yelp, you topple over, falling onto your side. He gets onto his knees and spreads your thighs, ripping the panties from your body and tossing the destroyed fabric aside before diving back in, savoring your pussy, and you gasp, nearly sinking into the feeling as he fingers you while his other hand holds one of your legs in place. Yoongi is strong, but this position does not put him at an advantage, and you are able to use your free leg to push him off of you, sending him into the headboard with a light crash while you wiggle free and get into your knees.

You do your best to hold down both of Yoongi's legs with your legs, taking his cock as far into your throat as you can, but Yoongi's arms are free, and he takes you by the hair, yanking you off of him and pulling you close enough that he can reach your clit. Yoongi's fingers work fast, drawing circles over your swollen bud before entering you and fucking into you at a punishing pace.

His fingers hit every spot inside you that you need, and as you feel your orgasm build, you panic, trying to push out of his grasp. Instead, you pull yourself backward, crashing into the mattress in an attempt to get free, and Yoongi lets go of your hair in the process, which you hope will give you an edge, but he mounts you quickly, holding your legs down under his while his fingers continue to work you.

"If I fuck you, it's over," Yoongi snarls, and you gasp, doing your best to wiggle away, but it is futile.

"Please, baby boy, please don't," you plea, not ready for the fight to be over.

In this game, however, you both understand that no does not actually mean no, so Yoongi grins as he gets off of your legs and spreads them open, lining himself up with your entrance.

"Sorry, princess," Yoongi growls as he pushes his cock into you, all the way to the base.

The stretch is incredible, and you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and arching your back from how good he feels. Yoongi holds your legs open, angling himself to fuck you just the way you like it, and already you begin to see stars. His cock feels so good; it is no wonder you were heartbroken when he left. Men and women tried and failed to make you feel as good as he can with little effort; it is as if your bodies were molded to fit each other perfectly.

This, of course, is terrible news if you want to win this little game.

Panicked, you try to shimmy away, managing to get Yoongi's cock out of you, but that just makes him push more weight into you to hold you down and fuck you harder. As you moan, Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and you realize you might be able to win this thing yet, so you moan louder, squeezing your pussy walls around him as much as you can.

"Fuck, Yoongi, yes baby, right there," you cry out, watching Yoongi's eyes widen with both fear and pleasure.

"Your cock is so fucking good," you moan, "that's it baby make me come, please!"

Yoongi's hips halt as a shattered breath leaves his throat, and you grab onto his arms and wrap your legs around him tightly. With more loud, breathy moans, you grind your hips against Yoongi, fucking yourself on his cock, using your feet to push and pull his ass cheeks in hopes of stimulating his rim with the toy. Yoongi's hips buck uncontrollably as you fuck yourself on him, and rather than trying to fight it any longer, he leans forward and fucks you hard and fast until he is filling you with his come, pulling pitchy, breathy moans from your lips.

"Fuck," Yoongi whines as he falls forward, resting his face against your neck. "I can't believe you won. I want you to fuck me."

"Alright," you concede, also wanting to fuck Yoongi. "Get the smaller dildo for me, and I'll use the purple one on you once you're done. But I get to fuck you against the window."

The window in Yoongi's bedroom overlooks a sprawling residential area, and his eyes widen at the prospect, glancing over and seeing city lights shine through the sheer curtain.

"Okay, fine," Yoongi agrees, then gets up and walks to the box, finding the other dildo that connects to the leather strap, which is only slightly smaller than the purple one, and dark blue.

Yoongi steps into the leather harness, pulling it to his hips and anchoring it so that the dildo rests above his cock, filling you to the bring with excited anticipation. You shimmy to the edge of the bed and spread your legs wide, smiling up at Yoongi, who squirts lube onto his fingers and begins to slowly open your ass, first with one finger, then with two, making you moan and pant as you do your best to get used to the stretch, breathing through it as Yoongi takes his time, using his come as extra lubricant as it leaks from your pussy.

"So fucking tight," Yoongi groans, leaning forward to suck the skin around your knee.

"Stop fucking around and stretch me open," you whine, getting impatient from Yoongi's cock not being burrowed deep in your ass. Yoongi chuckles and tilts his head to the side, entertained by your petulance.

"If you don't hurry up and fuck me, I'm punishing you," you threaten, and Yoongi raises his eyebrows, pressing his tongue into his cheek.

"You gonna dominate me when I'm knuckle deep in your ass, princess?" Yoongi growls, leaning over you as his fingers quicken their pace.

You pant and moan, letting the pleasure-pain wash over you, and Yoongi takes you by the throat with his free hand, fingering you harder.

"This what you want, baby?"

You nod your head and whine, "P-please."

Yoongi pulls his fingers out, pushing a third inside, and your vision goes hazy. It feels so intense and so good, and you want his cock inside of you now.

"I'm ready," you cry, "please fuck me, please."

Yoongi scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you more, and you arch your back, gripping onto the comforter below you with both hands. When he finally pulls his fingers free, you are panting and dizzy, and you watch with your mouth hanging slack as Yoongi squirts lube onto his hand, coating his cock with it.

Yoongi enters you slowly, stretching your ass more than he prepped you for, and you scream out, finally getting what you wanted from him, inch by inch, in and out, each thrust deeper than the last.

His hips stay still a moment while you accommodate, and Yoongi holds your legs open as he slowly pulls out and pushes all the way back in. It is too much, but you do not want it to stop, and you curse and mutter incoherently as you adjust to the feeling of Yoongi's cock buried deep in your ass.

"Ready for the rest?" Yoongi asks, voice soft and deep, taking you off guard.

His voice causes something to well up in your chest that you absolutely do not want to think about when he is sheathed inside you, so you nod eagerly, squeezing your eyes shut as he pulls his cock nearly all of the way out.

Yoongi pushes the dildo into your pussy, filling both of your holes slowly, and you melt into the feeling, overcome with pleasure. It is not long before Yoongi is finding a steady pace, and all you can do is wail and moan, completely lost in the euphoria of him.

It is just as it was before he left, and better than anything you have experienced since, and you do your best to bury the thought for now, trying not to focus too much on the emotions surrounding his presence. But how could you not, when, as you open your eyes, all you see is firm muscle, soft pale skin, dark illustrations, and, worst of all, his face. Sharp, fox eyes and his pouty pink lips and cute, button nose; he is so fucking pretty it is infuriating, so you stare at the middle of his chest, blocking out your emotions as Yoongi picks up his pace to one more deep and erratic.

You reach down and touch your clit, and that is all you need to send a shockwave through your body, giving you just the push to fully collapse—to turn to dust and drift away into a plume of pleasure.

Yoongi growls, "That’s it, come for me, baby," and you lose it, squeezing the dildo and his cock as your body convulses and relaxes, frantically and beyond your control. You come so hard you choke out sobs, squeezing the blanket in one hand while your other hand rests limply over your clit.

Yoongi's hips do not slow, and you feel another wave build up, threatening to crash harder than the last. You are overstimulated and pliant, whimpering weakly as Yoongi fucks you hard and deep, pulling another orgasm from you, turning you into a trembling mess beneath him, and when his hips finally do slow, you find yourself panting, covered in sweat.

"You didn't come?" you ask, knitting your eyebrows in frustration.

How dare he finish without finishing?

"I came earlier," Yoongi corrects.

"Right," you pant, "okay. Bend over, then."

Yoongi chuckles, likely at your impatience; even while fucked out and exhausted with two cocks inside you, you continue to boss him around. As he pulls out, you hiss, clenching around nothing as both holes are empty. Yoongi undoes the leather harness and carefully removes it over his still-hard cock, then replaces the dildo with the one that has been sitting on the bed this entire time.

You find the strength to sit up on your elbows, watching Yoongi as he puts the purple dildo into the strap for you, and your eyes rove over his body, following vines that snake down his ribs, to his hip. And that is when you see it—that is when you feel a knot grow suffocatingly fast in your chest. It is so small, so hidden, that you would surely miss it if it said anything else, but it does not say just anything; it says your name.

"What is that?" you ask, pointing to the tattoo, knowing damn well what it is but unable to form a question that asks what you are trying to communicate.

Yoongi looks down, and when he sees what you're talking about, his mouth falls open, and his eyes widen.

"Oh, right," he mutters, not bringing his eyes back to look at you, looking elsewhere.

"Oh, right?" you parrot. "Did you—did you forget? Why is it—why did you get that?"

"It has been there so long; I guess I do sometimes forget," Yoongi admits.

"It has what? How long have you had that?" you provoke, feeling a huge mess of emotions well up inside you.

Yoongi finally meets your gaze, eyebrows knitted in frustration.

"Are you mad at me for getting your name tattooed on me?"

"I—no—I don't know! Okay! It's a lot to take in!" you snap.

You are not sure why this bothers you so much, but something about the idea of him missing you and getting pretty tattoos for you while you were left in the dark feeling confused and miserable over him fills you with anger.

"The flowers are fine, though?" Yoongi provokes, hands on his hips as his softened cock hangs between his legs. You have nothing to say, so Yoongi continues. "The flowers that remind me of you, the fruits that remind me of you, all of these little fucking memories are fine, but your name is what bothers you?"

Your voice is weak as you croak past the lump in your throat, holding back tears. "The whole time you were gone, you thought of me, and you missed me, and you loved me. Did you plan to come back to me? This entire time? Did you plan to see me again and apologize and win me back as if nothing ever happened?"

"Not as if nothing ever happened," Yoongi responds, his voice soft once more.

"I was devastated, Yoongi!" you shout, sitting up and crossing your arms over your chest, blocking out the soreness between your legs. "Some days, I thought my heart was being ripped from my chest. I felt like I was dying. And all the while, you were getting tattoos and thinking of me, but not once fucking talking to me! You were letting me wonder, and cry, and pick up the pieces of my shattered fucking life while you were planning your return trip home with your pretty little tattoos as if nothing fucking happened."

"I was devastated too," Yoongi laments.

"It's sweet," you admit, voice hushed but shattered. "It's a beautiful tattoo. All of them are beautiful tattoos. Had I known that you were coming back, had I known you still loved me, maybe it would have been okay, but now...I don't know."

"I didn't just sit around and expect to see you again, pretending everything would be fine," Yoongi mutters as he sits on the bed, keeping some distance between you. The sweat on your body has gotten cold, and you hug yourself—a motion that Yoongi mirrors. "Sometimes I did, but sometimes I tried to move on, meet someone new. But nobody was you."

There is a pause. Your mind is racing, but you cannot formulate a sentence, so you wait for Yoongi to continue.

"When I found out I was getting promoted, I toyed with the idea of coming back. I even reached out to Jungkook and confided in him."

Your head whips around; you cannot believe what you're hearing.

"You what?" you ask, and Yoongi nods. "What did he say?"

Yoongi scoffs, then makes eye contact, and you can see his deep brown eyes swirling with sadness. "He said, 'Don't you fucking dare promise anything unless it is set in stone.' He told me not to contact you until I was already on my way back for good."

It makes sense, really. Of course Jungkook would say that. He, of all people, knows how easily you would cave at the promise of getting back the life you had before, even if it took you a while to come around and fully forgive Yoongi. Especially with the promise of a new house thrown into the equation, if only because it meant Yoongi would not be able to easily leave again.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi mutters. "I can take you home if you'd like. You don't have to stay."

"No," you respond, feeling your nerves settle. "No, I'm sorry too. This is all just a lot."

The air is tense, but you are finally calm once more, considering the weight of everything. Yoongi tinkers with the buckles on the leather harness he is still holding, and you snicker at the sight of him sadly cradling his favorite dildo. You decide that, for now, you will finish what you started. After all, you still have not gotten to fuck Yoongi tonight. Even if things fail to work out in the long run, you want to fuck him one last time.

"I'll just have to punish you some more," you finally declare, and Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes. You get onto your knees on the bed and face Yoongi, closing the small distance between you as you slowly crawl. "I am going to use you. And hurt you. And make you cry."

"Please," Yoongi whimpers.

Against the large window in Yoongi's bedroom is a wide lounge chair with a cushioned back and armrests. You point to the chair and tell Yoongi to get on it, on his knees.

Yoongi mutters, "Yes, princess," and sets the strap down on the bed before making his way to the chair, and you watch the light catch the metal plug that still sits nestled in Yoongi's ass and smirk before getting off the bed and stepping into the leather harness, pulling it over your hips and adjusting the straps to fit you better.

The lube bottle had been tossed onto the bed, so you take that with you and rummage through the black plastic tub, finding the two leather cat masks you had hoped would still be in there. You place one of the masks over your face, which covers your eyes and nose, securing the strap over your ears before approaching and putting the second one over Yoongi's face. He gasps and adjusts the mask, and when you pull the curtains open, he recoils a bit.

“If the cars drive by, will they see us?” you ask.

“Maybe,” Yoongi whimpers nervously.

You set the lube bottle on the window sill, then take Yoongi by the face, pulling his head down until his mouth is above the silicon cock hanging from your strap. Yoongi opens up wide and takes it, slowly and deeply, breathing through any urge to gag that he may have. You begin to slide the cock between his lips, pulling back, then thrusting forward, and Yoongi whimpers around it, drooling as he takes it into his throat.

"You like sucking my big, hard cock?" you tease, slapping Yoongi softly on the cheek.

Yoongi whines a response, but it is all vowels, dying in his throat.

"Aren’t you a good little whore?" you snarl. "Sucking my cock down so good. Is this what you want, baby boy?"

More whimpers huff around the toy as you pick up your pace, throat fucking Yoongi with his own strap, and he whines and takes it, holding his tongue out like a good boy, blinking through the tears that streak down his face. Yoongi always found choking on the toy cock while you spit degrading names at him to be a bit humiliating, which also happened to make his cock throb harder, so you indulge him before fucking him, just like old times. When you finally pull the dildo all the way out of Yoongi's mouth, his lips are swollen and pink, covered in spit, and you bend to suck his bottom lip into your mouth, slurping at the saliva and swallowing his moans.

You release the kiss and go behind Yoongi, sinking to your knees and licking around the plug, teasing his stretched rim with your tongue, and he trembles and whines—music to your ears. Gently, you tug on the plug, pulling it from Yoongi's ass, watching his puckered hole squeeze around nothing as you fully remove it and toss it onto the bed behind you.

"Want me to stretch you more, baby boy?" you ask, flicking open the lube bottle and pouring a generous amount onto the thick purple cock on your pelvis.

"No," Yoongi croaks, "want it to hurt."

This is a request you have fulfilled many times before, so you slick up the toy and pull Yoongi's hips down until he is at the right height for you to touch the tip to his entrance, pressing forward enough to make him hiss. As you breach Yoongi's hole, his legs begin to shake beneath him, and you rest your hands on his shoulders, then drag your nails down, scratching his back as the head of your silicone cock goes all the way inside. Yoongi pants and holds onto the chair like a lifeline while you pull the toy out, only to inch it in a bit further, back and forth, little by little.

Once the dildo is a little over halfway, you begin to rock your hips. Yoongi does not like to adjust to the stretch, and as much as you want to make him beg for you, you enjoy the cries and moans that come from him now, so you roll your hips, watching as his eager ass swallows the cock whole.

With one hand, you grip onto Yoongi's hip, digging the tips of your fingers in enough that your nails form dimples in the soft skin. With your other hand, you slap Yoongi's ass hard, echoing the crash around you, squeezing the flesh as he cries, only to do it over again.

You begin to pick up your pace, bucking your hips into Yoongi, watching him take the entire length of the dildo while his ass slams against your thighs. You could get hypnotized by the ripples of his soft, plump skin, but instead, you mark it, digging your fingernails in and leaving pink welts and scratches. Yoongi whines and begs you not to stop, and you alternate scratching and slapping Yoongi's ass and lower back until he is covered in raised streaks with tiny spots of blood.

"Sit up, baby boy, let me touch your nipples," you command, and Yoongi scrambles to arch his back so that you can reach.

Yoongi whines and trembles as you twist the sensitive buds between your thumb and forefinger, fucking into his ass at a punishing pace. You wonder how much longer Yoongi might last, slapping and tugging at his nipples while he cries out; he is always so sensitive.

"Wanna come, baby boy?" you ask as you sink your teeth into Yoongi's tattooed bicep, swirling your tongue around the mark, pulling a choked whine from his throat.

"Please!" Yoongi shouts.

"Please, what?"

"Please, please make me come," Yoongi begs. "Please, please!"

You reach around and grab onto Yoongi's cock, squeezing the head in your hand, prolonging his orgasm, and Yoongi wails, begging you not to stop him, begging you to let him come. With a hard slap to his ass, you remind him that he will come when you say he can, to which he chokes out, "Yes, princess."

Your hands are back on Yoongi's nipples as you fuck him hard, and Yoongi is a mess of incoherent whimpers and pleas, bending over the back of the chair. It has been years since you have heard his choked sobs, since you have scratched pretty little welts into his skin, and you do not want to stop. But you must, eventually, because all good things must end. And also because it has been years since you have fucked someone like this, and you are already becoming tired.

A car drives by, and its headlights shine into the windows for a split moment, causing Yoongi to whimper and duck his head down despite his face being partially covered by a mask.

"Think they saw you, baby?" you groan, and Yoongi continues to whine. "I'll let you come if you sit up straight next time a car drives by. Let them see me stroke your pretty cock."

There is a slim chance anyone can actually see into these windows clearly enough to know what is happening as they drive past, and they especially cannot see Yoongi's body behind the chair. But the idea of it turns you on so much you continue to fuck Yoongi hard, squeezing the head of his cock to remind him that he is not allowed to come yet. Yoongi's knuckles are white as he holds onto the chair tightly, and sweat beads like dew along his shoulders and neck. And Yoongi's moans. Oh, his moans are so deep, so raspy and sweet, and you are certain you could drown in them, hanging on every saccharine sound as it fills the room.

You slow your thrusts, rolling your hips to fuck Yoongi at a deep, languid pace as you grab the lube bottle from the windowsill and squirt more directly onto his ass. Yoongi cries out, likely from how cool it feels against his sensitive skin, and you gather a little of the liquid into your palm. In the distance, you see a car coming around the bend where it will eventually drive past the window, so you grab Yoongi by the shoulder with your non-lubed hand and tell him to sit up straight.

"Wanna come, baby boy?" you tease, and Yoongi sits up as best as he can, nodding desperately as he whimpers, "Please, please."

You pick your pace back up and grab onto Yoongi's cock, gathering his precum in your palm along with the lube and stroking his length. Yoongi cries out, his whole body trembling as you send him over the edge, and as soon the headlights come into view, you grab Yoongi by the hair with your free hand and jerk him toward you as you growl, "Come for me, baby boy," stroking his pretty, throbbing cock.

Yoongi comes with a pitchy groan, spraying his release onto your palm and the chair as the headlights momentarily fill the room, and you slow your thrusts, matching your tender strokes as his body convulses in your grip. As soon as you let go of Yoongi's hair, he falls forward, draping his body over the back of the chair. You slowly pull the toy cock out of him, rubbing his back and tracing your fingers over the fresh scratches you left behind.

"Fuck," Yoongi groans. "Holy fuck."

Exhaustion hits you like a wave, and you back up until you reach the bed, sitting on the edge as you undo the buckle of the strap. Your legs feel shaky and weak as you shimmy out of the leather cock holster and let it hit the floor.

"I assume this place has a bathtub?" you ask, and Yoongi groans a sound that may be a confirmation, though it is hard to tell. You take it upon yourself to hobble into the bathroom and are pleased to find a tub big enough for the both of you, turning it on and setting the temperature.

Yoongi stumbles into the room and dips his toe in the barely filled tub before deciding it is good enough and getting in. You chuckle at his impatience; some things never change.

Now that you have fucked, you feel like it is time to address the giant elephant in the room, but you also feel hesitant; you are not sure what you are ready for, and although this night has been amazing and has rekindled a lot of flames, you are scared shitless to lose him again, leaving you to wonder if it is worth it to even try.

But, for now, you can at least sit down in the bathtub and rest your muscles. And so, you do.

With a tap to his shoulder, you urge Yoongi to sit forward so you can take the place behind him, wrapping your legs around his hips. You are so overwhelmed by everything that has transpired, that suddenly, you begin to cry. It is a silent, undetectable cry, save for streaks of tears that Yoongi cannot see—tears he does not need to see because you are not sure if you are ready to start over again, and you do not want to have to explain yourself. Sure, he has returned, and sure, he has covered his body in illustrations dedicated to you, but you are not certain if your wound can heal so quickly.

So, for now, you close your eyes and rest your head against the wall as the water level continues to rise, and you keep everything bottled up and close to your heart where it is safe. For now, you try not to wonder what comes next.

Tag list: @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @mwitsmejk 🎳

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi kink #bts smut #bts kink #bts exes to lovers #fic: couldn't pin you down

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woniepop · 3 years

Text

encore

➜ sunghoon had never fallen in love with anything the way he did with skating. the wind in his face, the crunch of the ice beneath his feet, it was wonderful. and yet, something about it made your blood boil. you once loved ice skating too, for the same reasons as he, but maybe all you needed was a simple goodbye to understand park sunghoon.

wc: 4.6k

genre: ice skating au, best friends to lovers (ish), angst, fluff, romance, slice of life

content warnings: illness, mentions of medication, mentions of blood, death, mentions of anxiety, mentions of fainting, hospitals, angst, death of a loved one

heavily based off Your Lie in April

tagging: @svnghoonie @unghoon @swanlakesujin @heeblr @sweetseung @ferxanda @katberri @usdolans @kisshoons @scintillasofbeomgyu @leemika @qngelhoonie

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first time i’m writing something like this, so i hop eyou guys enjoy it because i’d be super down to write more in the future.

Friday, October 16, 2020

The busy sounds of couples, families, and friends fill the air as the cold wind hits your face. Holding hands with your mom, you glide through the ice, laughter filling the entire rink. The bleachers, the other skaters, the floor, it all disappears and the only thing that’s left is you and your mom. Your seven year old self had never felt so alive.

And yet, here you were, seventeen, staring off into the ice rink as other kids and their mothers ice skated. Ever since you fell in love with the sport it had been the bane of your existence. Mom died, so you stopped. You swore to never go back again, it gave you anxiety. You tried, you really did, but something about being on the ice reminded you so much of the past you wanted to leave behind. It went downhill from then on.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” a familiar voice calls out to you. Sunghoon, who had been practicing for his upcoming competition, leans against the side of the rink, talking to you who was sitting on the bleachers.

“Just my mom again,” you reply.

“It’s been a while since she passed away, huh. Should we go get some ice cream to cheer you up then?” He says as he skates towards the exit, walking to you. You stand up, bag in hand, and wait for him to change out of his skates. Sunghoon, who had been your best friend since your five year old skating class, had been with you through everything. He always seemed to know just what to say to cheer you up.

“Hey, y/n. Do you think you’d ever try to skate again?” Sunghoon asks, fully knowing the answer but hoping maybe this time it'll be different.

“Haha, you really want me to get back into skating that badly?”

“Well, it’s been a while since you’ve done it. You don’t have to compete with me again, you know. But why don’t you just try it again for fun?”

You stop in your tracks and think about it. It wouldn’t hurt to try for fun. It was your life at one point. “Fine, tomorrow afternoon. But that’s it.” you say, watching his face light up.

Saturday, October 17, 2020

“Don’t let go, Sunghoon. I SAID DON’T LET GO.” You shout, as he laughs.

“Y/n, just relax. You know this. I’m letting go now.”

“SUNGHOON!” you shout. Your legs bent and you stand in place, too scared to move. You watch as he takes your hand and guides you around the rink. The nostalgia comes rushing back. The wind in your face, the feeling of your feet gliding across the ice like nothing, it had been so long. Before you realize it, you had let go of Sunghoon and gone way ahead of him. Looking back, you find him smiling at you. You remember this feeling, and you loved it.

You’d definitely got your love of skating from your mom. Being the daughter of a professional skater, it had been your dream to be like her. She was and always will be your role model. When you had quit skating you wondered if she’d be disappointed in you for quitting, but thoughts of her always flooded your mind and you could never focus on the task at hand. You knew your mom would never be disappointed in you, but you were disappointed in you.

It had been half an hour of skating and an all too familiar voice calls out to you.

“Y/n!”

“Mom?” you say in response. You look back, no one. Not soon after, your breathing gets heavy, the world starts spinning and the nostalgia of the rink gets washed over by spots of black, your head was pounding. You keep looking. Where was she? Why was this happening? You wanted to hug her. Was she proud of you? Upset that you didn’t skate anymore? Why did she leave you? Before you know it, you could feel Sunghoon holding you on the floor before going unconscious.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Sunghoon says, clutching your hand while kneeling next to your bed.

“Sunghoon, I’m fine. It’s not your fault.”

“BUT IT IS! I asked you to skate with me and now you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt. It’s okay.” you say as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. You look at the clock. 7pm. It was the next day. “Don’t you have practice? Let’s go.”

“What do you mean let’s go?!? You just woke up??” Sunghoon utters in a panic.

“Yeah, which means I’m energized. I need to make sure you don’t stay there for too long and hurt yourself too.” you say, standing up to shoo Sunghoon out so you can change. “Wait on the couch,”

A few moments later you both were out the door and on the bus to the ice rink.

“I’m not going to stay for long then. I don’t want you to be out for too long.” He decides.

“That’s fine.”

The noise Sunghoon’s skates made as they hit the ice and the chilly air gave you comfort as you watched him run through his routine. Running his fingers through his hair, your eyes follow him wherever he went. He knew you were watching, which was why he was putting on his best performance. The both of you had never felt butterflies for each other like the way you did now. Before you knew it, the two of you were falling hard.

“Y/n, let’s go now.” Sunghoon says as his chest rises up and down, panting from his last run.

“Okay, you did good today.” You compliment him as you walk to the bus. His hand accidentally bumps into yours. You desperately wished that he had gone to hold yours, but he was just your best friend. Nothing more. The ride was filled with a comfortable silence. You stared out the window while Sunghoon stared at you. Feeling his gaze on you, you turn to look at him only for him to turn away and pretend like he was looking the other way. Having spent almost everyday for the past ten years with Sunghoon, you guys never needed to talk constantly, having each other there was just enough to have a great day.

You get off together, but Sunghoon was acting suspiciously jittery. He walks you home, but you see him turn the opposite direction of your house once you’re inside. Weird.

Alone, Sunghoon gets back on the bus. His home was close enough to walk from your house, though. “What was he doing?”, you thought.

Arriving at his destination, Sunghoon sighs as he puts a hand up to his backpack strap.

“Name?” the receptionist asks.

“Park Sunghoon.”

“Sunghoon! I’m sorry to see you back. You’ve grown so well. The doctor is ready for you in room 306. Good luck!”

In and out of hospitals ever since the seventh grade, twelve year old Sunghoon stands in the dark hospital hallway, watching his parents cry in the moonlit lobby. He didn’t have much time left, he thought.

Trudging through the all too familiar hallways, Sunghoon makes a left turn and opens the fourth door to the right. He knew this place like the back of his hand.

“Hey Sunghoon! Welcome back! Just take a seat over there and I’ll start preparing to run some tests and then we’ll talk about starting your physical therapy.” The doctor says in a way too cheerful voice.

“That sound’s good. Thank you.” Sunghoon replies. Hearing the sound of the door clicking shut, Sunghoon sat deep in thought. He wanted to skate with you again, but he was worried about your health. Just one more time. That was what he wanted. The glimmer in your eyes, you huge yet adorable smile. He wanted to see it again.

Next Saturday, October 24, 2020

The day started out hectic but you finally found your seat in the stands. You waited for them to announce Sunghoon. Alas, he came gliding out and the crowd was already cheering. Before he starts his eyes search for you, smile widening when his eyes finally meet with yours. Although he had other passions, like skating, his favorite one would always be you. The music starts and the audience quiets down. You had probably seen this routine over 100 times, but something about the setting, the mood, made it seem like a whole new dance. Every move he made drew you further in. He pushed the audience to the edge of their seats leaving them in awe. It was all for you. Everything about him at that moment was brilliant. Once he ends, the audience roars and Sunghoon, not surprisingly, ends up winning. Of course he won. He was your Sunghoon.

You make a beeline towards the performers’ hall and jump onto Sunghoon’s back, accidentally hitting his face with the flowers you had purchased a few moments before.

“Y/n, I told you to stop buying me these. They’re a waste of money.” Sunghoon giggles, happy to see you. You’d had always brushed them off as a pretty reward for a pretty performer, but there had always been a separate meaning behind the red tulips you give him. They would always end up in your home, in the glass vase next to the couch. A gift from your father to your mother, every Friday. Red tulips, the symbol of true love.

“Alright, I need to go change, wait here.” he says, leaving you behind.

An hour goes by and you were starting to get a bit worried. You knock on his changing room door. Nothing. Did he leave without you? You knock on the door again, and nothing. Opening the door, your eyes widen and you let out a gasp. Sunghoon had fainted due to exhaustion and the blood from his head injury had stained the floor.

You call the ambulance and thankfully they arrive quickly. Refusing to leave Sunghoon’s side, you watch as the nurses wrap bandages around his head. This had been the first time you’d seen Sunghoon like this. Was it happening often? Did he not get enough sleep last night?

“Sunghoon, I’m glad to see you’re awake. You passed out from exhaustion again and we’ve handled your head injury. You’re free to go anytime.” The doctor says.

“Again?” you ask.

“Yeah, but only a long time ago. You don’t need to worry about it.” Sunghoon says. “My parents have been overreacting and making me get routine tests, though.”

As a kid, you hated going to the hospital, and Sunghoon knew that. It was bland, it was boring, but most of all it’s the place you lost your mother. You hated the hospital. You’d come almost every month, week even, watching them run tests on your mom, prescribe her what seemed to be like hundreds of different medications, it was terrible. Losing your parent to cancer was not fun. No more skating, no more family days, no more cheering at competitions. Your family dinners turning to just you and your dad, and then just you. Referring to your parents as my “parent,”. Learning how to live life without the person you cherished most. It seemed like your life revolved around that retched place you called the hospital.

The rain poured and thunder boomed through the quiet hospital. He had sent you home before it rained, not wanting you to get wet and sick from the cold. Sunghoon sat still and thought to himself in his bed. “I see, so I’ve passed out again,” he thinks.

Monday, October 26, 2020

The chair screeches across the floor as Sunghoon drags it to your desk.

“Y/nnnnnnn” he whines, seeing you eat your gummy worms.

“No.”

“But I’m hungryyyy” he cries. You roll your eyes, placing one in his hand. You watch as he holds one side close to his mouth as if he was waiting for something.

“Sunghoon, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bite the other side” he says, causing your face to go red.

“No”

“yes”

“no”

“why not?” he says with his best attempt at puppy eyes and a pout.

“why?” you ask, hoping he hasn’t noticed your tomato red face yet

“cause I want to. we can lady and tramp it.” he says. “you know you want to.”

“I’m not going to lady and tramp a gummy worm with you. eat it or i’m taking it back.” you argue.

“Fine, but I have a proposal.” he announces. “I want to enter the next competition with you. Just one. Give me one more duet before you quit for good.”

“no,” you reply. “I’m never skating again.”

“Why not? You love it”

“Why do you want me to skate so badly?” you ask. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell you the real reason. He couldn’t tell you he was dying, that was a huge no.

“I miss being able to skate with my best friend. I feel so lonely.” he says, puppy eyes resurfacing.

“I’ll think about it then.”

“Good. Meet me at the ice rink on Saturday at 10am” he exclaims before getting up to go back to his desk.

“I haven’t even agreed.”

“Oops I can’t hear you!” he says as you roll your eyes.

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Little you steps off the ice as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes. Running out of the rink into the changing room, you latch on to your mother.

“Mommy, I’m not gonna win,” you say. Her hand comes up to run her fingers through your hair. She coos at you until your breathing has relaxed.

“Why don’t you think you’d win, honey? I loved watching you out there. You were so beautiful.” she says.

“I fell on the ice! Winners don’t do that. I wanted to win just like you.” you manage to sniffle out. You feel your mother give you a kiss on the forehead before kneeling and holding both of your hands.

“Ah, you see, my love, they do! Mommy fell all the time! She still falls! I promise you no winner has never fallen. Mommy only wins because she knows what it’s like to fall! Even if you don’t win, mommy is very proud of you, okay?” she says.

You bolt up from your sleep. It was just a dream. Scrunching your face, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out, you force yourself to get ready for the day, not giving any time to be sad and reminisce.

You enter the complex, Sunghoon standing at the entrance of the rink, impatiently waiting for you. He was so excited. This was going to work out for him. You both walk to the bleachers to satrt lacing your skates, Sunghoon practically bouncing off the walls.

“Aw man, I forgot my hair tie” you complain. Sunghoon pauses lacing his boots and holds his arm out to you.

“Here” Sunghoon says as you look at the extra hair tie on his wrist.

“Why do you have these.” you ask.

“You always forget.” he says, unsurprised.

“Awwww you were thinking of me?” you teased.

“Of course, idiot. Did you forget? I’m never not thinking of you” Sunghoon argued, wallking away, leaving you dumbfounded and blushing like a tomato.

Once again you step into the rink. You were stronger this time. Taking a deep breath you start to glide across the ice once again. It was very unsettling, though. Being on the ice, having fainted the last time you were here. Both you and Sunghoon were on edge, but you were determined to help him win this competition.

The day was filled with talking with your instructor, cleaning up your spins and jumps, and getting back to where you were before. You were getting it and you showed no signs of panic. Sunghoon was so proud of you. YOU were proud of you.

Sunghoon was happy, and he was hopeful. On his walk home all his thoughts were filled with you. Loving you ever since the seventh grade, when he found out he had an illness. He had decided never to tell you, fearing his time would come and leave you alone, but it was too late now. He didn’t want to push you away, you were his ride or die. His heart ached, he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want you to have to live alone.

Opening the door to his home, he walks through the hallway, leaning against the wall limping to his room. Every big event Sunghoon would write you a letter, and so tonight he poured his heart out onto this piece of paper, tears staining his face.

Sunday, November 1, 2020

On Sunday, you show up to his house unexpectedly but not surprisingly. “Sunghoon, get dressed. We’re going to the market.” you say. Without question, he does as you ask and you both head to the market in no time.

Walking down the ice cream aisle, you grab all the flavors you enjoy, filling your whole basket with different ice creams, toppings, fruit, drinks, and even a cake. “You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” Sunghoon teases, earning him a slap to the arm.

As soon as you get home, you send Sunghoon alone to his bedroom, telling him you need time to prepare everything. You had pulled all the stops, whipping out the cheap snoopy shaved ice maker, birthday party hats, streamers, balloons, and banners. It was no one’s birthday in particular, but the fake birthday party put you in a festive and refreshing mood. You had set up a giant ice cream sundae bar, and had even made lemonade.

Calling Sunghoon to come out of the bedroom, he was not surprised but very impressed. Wanting to make it even more fun, he suggests to make sundaes for one another, which you happily agree to. The day was so fun, and it was hardly possible, but Sunghoon had fallen in love with you even more.

Sunghoon was so happy that you planned something like this. He was never one to do anything cute for you unless you begged, so this time he wanted to show you how grateful he was to you by giving you one FREE boop on the nose. Scooping some ice cream with his fingertip, he lightly taps your nose, leaving the melted strawberry ice cream to drip off your nose. You turn to look at him in disgust, eventually dipping your finger in the ice cream and starting a war.

Monday, November 2, 2020

From: Sunghoon (sent at 7:30am)

[ GOOD MORNIN PARTY PEOPLE!!! ]

From: you

[ where are you ]

From: Sunghoon

[ Oh yeah I forgot to tell you I’m not coming today. ]

From: you

[ what, why? I don’t wanna eat lunch alone like a loser. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ oh yeah. i’m back at the hospital LMAOOOO ]

From: you

[ WHY ]

From: Sunghoon

[ idk i forgot. i just woke up here and they were like “hihi” and i said “hihi” back ]

From: you

[ you are unbelievable. i’m coming after school. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ NO DON’T ]

From: you

[ why ]

From: Sunghoon

[ i don’t wanna get yelled at again. only come if you bring me more gummy worms ]

From: you

[ fine. since you’re sick ]

You acted like you didn’t care, but you were so worried. What could’ve happened? Why couldn’t he remember? Even when bed ridden, he still managed to get you to fall head over heels.

That afternoon, you arrive at the hospital, finding Sunghoon playing video games while lying in bed. You chuckled. Even with head bandages and an IV drip, he still managed to be his teenage boyish self.

“Y/n! Today was so boring. Can we take a walk in the garden, I’m sick of being here.” he asks, to which you reluctantly agreed.

During your stroll you talked about anything and everything, a common activity you both did.

“How was school today? Did you miss me?” Sunghoon asks cheekily.

“I did actually. I didn’t realize how much time I spend with you until today.” you respond. “But, it was okay. I got your gummy worms and some other snacks too. I know you hate hospital food.”

“Well I missed you too, there was no one but the staff to bother.” He chuckles. “You know, I’m not always going to be around to help you.”

“I know, but we have time.”

Before you knew it, the sun was setting and Sunghoon sent you home so you didn’t have to walk alone in the dark. On his walk back to his room, Sunghoon worried. The thing was, you didn’t have time. The fact that you missed him in just a few hours? How would you feel about forever? He never wanted you to have bad days, let alone be the one to cause them.

Walking through the hallways he trips and falls. Landing on his knees. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. Why wouldn’t his legs move? He punched his leg. Nothing. Again. It was no use. He had lost feeling in his legs. Tears start pouring out of his eyes. Move, it’s just your leg. Get up. Move. Water droplets fall from his face as he bangs his fist on the floor. Why can’t he move. Eventually he gives up, dragging himself back to his room with his arms. They hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurt. Was this it?

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

After last night’s events, Sunghoon felt out of it. He wouldn’t be able to go back to school for a while, the nurses claiming that if it happens again the situation can be way worse. He couldn’t skate anymore. He couldn’t see YOU skate anymore. This was it. His illness was getting to him.

With a knock on the door, Sunghoon falls right out of his daze and watches as you come in with another bag of goodies.

“I brought you some stuff from the convenience store.” You say, taking out a bottle of green tea and handing it to him. He reaches out to grab it but as soon as you let go the bottle slips out of his hands.

Ah, so it’s spreading to my arms too, he thinks as he realizes he was too weak to grip the bottle. The doctors told his parents last night that surgery was an option, but it would only give him a little more time, but he wanted to take it. He wanted to be able to skate a little longer. He wanted to make it to the competition.

“I’m in the mood to watch all the Studio Ghibli movies in one sitting.” Sunghoon says as he leans his head back.

“Scoot over,” you reply, getting up to sit in his bed with him. “Good thing I brought my laptop.”

“Are you sure? That’s gonna be like all night.” He asks.

“Of course, I’m always in the mood for you,” you say as Sunghoon wraps an arm around you, prepared for the whole night of cuddling and movie watching.

Half way through the marathon you feel Sunghoon nuzzle his face into your neck. His soft snoring tickled you. You bring your hand up to stroke his hair. Park Sunghoon, I am so in love with you, you think. Your smile. Your eyes. Your lips. Your hair. Your voice. You teasing. The way you say my name. The way you stare at me. The way you talk. The way you smile at me. The way my day isn’t complete without you. I love you.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

The next day was supposed to be better. Sunghoon was going to see you and you were gonna get him more gummy worms. Sitting up with him on his bed, you were cuddling, and he seemed to be getting paler and paler by the minute. He seemed really tired, like he was sick to his stomach.

You got up to go get him a drink from the vending machine, and as you came back nurses and doctors were rushing in and out of your best friend’s room. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of it’s chest and you run to his room. Sunghoon was clutching onto the sides of the bed, doctors scrambling to get the defibrillator going. His heart had stopped.

You’d later learn that he had gone into cardiac arrest, and you watched as the nurses wheeled his bed to the ICU. But the surgery didn’t work, and he didn’t survive. You felt numb. Stretching out a trembling arm, you took hold of Sunghoon’s hand. You shut your eyes and squeezed his palm. It was cold. Your hand trembled harder with each passing second, as if the movement would cause Sunghoon to wake up. Your face buried into the crook of his neck. You nudged the bridge of your nose against the cool skin. Your lips brushed against his collarbone in desperate search of that familiar warmth. Both hands had clasped around Sunghoon’s, quavering without pause. Devastation weighed down on you. It was a surreal feeling, one that you could never in one million years describe. It squeezed you, threatening to crush you from the inside out. The pain seared itself into your soul, hindering him, rendering him speechless to a point where he no longer knew what words were. A sob wretched its way out from your throat. You tried desperately to hold it in. Tried so hard to keep yourself together, but you knew you were too weak to pull such a bluff. Once the second sob had left you, you felt yourself spiraling. There was no hiding it.

The doctor comes to hand you a letter. Weakly reaching out, you read it right away. You were desperate. You needed to hear something from Sunghoon, anything.

Dear Y/n,

HI BESTIE, I know I write you one of these every big event, but I’m afraid this might be my last. I’m sorry if you’re getting the before the competition. I desperately wanted to skate with you, but I guess if you’re reading this then my time has come. I hope you’re doing okay. I don’t want you to miss me too much. Please keep skating. I love watching you skate, more than anything. You look so happy, so carefree. I want you to live like that always. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I don’t want you to associate something you love so much with sadness. I’m with your mom now, and we’re rooting for you. Always.

I know it was pretty obvious, but I love you. Actually, that’s an understatement. I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts when I’m not with you. I’m in love with you. And I love that I’m in love with you. I love the feelings. The happiness when I think of you, the butterflies when you text me, the excitement I get when I know I’ll get to see you. It’s amazing. And you’re amazing, and I love you. And I’m sorry I had to keep so many secrets. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the competition. I’m sorry for not telling you about my illness. I didn’t want you to carry this burden with me. You’re the light of my life, Y/n. I love you.

Love,

your bestie, sunghoon.

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