#if y'all want it under a cut just let me know i guess

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

-

-

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time? 

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware. 

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd. 

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience. 

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand. 

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night. 

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.” 

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still… 

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.” 

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise. 

“And you’re paying me double.” 

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?” 

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.” 

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.” 

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention. 

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet. 

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!” 

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs. 

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy. 

However. 

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense. 

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action. 

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you. 

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks, 

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived? 

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder. 

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too. 

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.” 

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.” 

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?” 

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s. 

And you don’t like it one bit. 

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up. 

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed. 

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out. 

“What?” 

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.” 

“After what he did to you?” 

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…” 

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back. 

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill. 

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead. 

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on. 

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck! 

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning. 

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench. 

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger. 

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands. 

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win. 

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change. 

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight. 

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees. 

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

-

-

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy. 

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder. 

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you. 

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night. 

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!” 

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight. 

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on. 

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?” 

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.” 

Motherfucker. 

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.” 

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night. 

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky. 

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?” 

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod. 

Weird. 

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.” 

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.” 

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.” 

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.  

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat. 

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some. 

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do— 

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!” 

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.” 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart. 

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness. 

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts. 

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive. 

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!” 

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.” 

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure. 

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much. 

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…” 

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.” 

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort. 

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard. 

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut. 

You want to believe him. You do. You do. 

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort. 

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating. 

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.” 

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes. 

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up. 

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

And you mean that. 

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen. 

-

-

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid. 

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.” 

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.” 

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room, 

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?” 

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out, 

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?” 

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not. 

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out. 

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted. 

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.” 

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends. 

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up. 

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do. 

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either. 

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you. 

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened. 

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you? 

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring. 

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick. 

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know. 

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else. 

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with. 

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else. 

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park. 

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside. 

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer. 

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear. 

Finally. “Hello.” 

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside. 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell. 

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame. 

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go. 

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching, 

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage. 

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine. 

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight. 

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you. 

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice, 

“…No.” 

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that. 

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground. 

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room. 

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is. 

Shit, this is everywhere. 

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going. 

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room. 

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way. 

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment. 

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed. 

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away. 

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore. 

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse. 

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting. 

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.”��

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.” 

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.” 

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?” 

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then. 

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock, 

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare. 

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time. 

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center. 

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—  

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming. 

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

“Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

“Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. 

“I swear to—” 

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders. 

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again. 

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now. 

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass. 

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you. 

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside. 

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk. 

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain. 

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life. 

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth, 

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.” 

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.” 

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions. 

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation. 

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself. 

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length. 

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that. 

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what. 

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?” 

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat. 

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?” 

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.” 

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it. 

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss. 

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.” 

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall. 

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact. 

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.” 

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.” 

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.” 

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside. 

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall. 

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes. 

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely. 

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust. 

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.” 

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.” 

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?” 

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach. 

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway. 

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth. 

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.” 

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver. 

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.” 

“Asshole—” 

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.” 

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?” 

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.” 

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.” 

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.” 

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear. 

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.” 

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that. 

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure. 

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down. 

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension. 

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!” 

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt. 

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?” 

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Do it yourself then.” 

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…” 

“Nah.” 

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong. 

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.” 

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.” 

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command, 

“Then fucking come.” 

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin. 

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened. 

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice. 

“I said again.” 

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone. 

“Yoongi—” 

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place. 

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.” 

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.” 

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs. 

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.” 

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes… 

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.” 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is. 

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.” 

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?” 

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—” 

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice. 

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—” 

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—” 

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

“I know you don’t make promises but—” 

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear. 

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore. 

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on. 

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside. 

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?” 

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap. 

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off? 

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.” 

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—” 

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those? 

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release. 

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too. 

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever. 

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have, 

“How about we share it.” 

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.” 

“Okay.” 

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.” 

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain. 

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.” 

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too. 

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head. 

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed. 

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head. 

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

Scroll, scroll. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again. 

Scroll, scroll. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion. 

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?” 

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door. 

His eyes. 

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms. 

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance. 

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do. 

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe? 

No. 

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters. 

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.” 

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you. 

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue. 

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay. 

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man. 

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.” 

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself. 

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall. 

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides. 

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts. 

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes. 

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.” 

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?” 

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.” 

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him. 

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give. 

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined. 

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking. 

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again. 

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two. 

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come. 

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too. 

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?” 

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.” 

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it. 

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?” 

Again. 

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.” 

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire. 

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything. 

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful. 

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion. 

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut. 

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles. 

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down. 

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel. 

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.” 

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?” 

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised. 

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.” 

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.” 

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.” 

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you. 

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world. 

Swelling, you already feel close. 

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble. 

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi. 

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again. 

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep. 

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again. 

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again? 

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times. 

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins. 

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence. 

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning. 

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest. 

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out, 

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.” 

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough. 

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.” 

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you. 

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that. 

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops. 

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there. 

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, 

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift. 

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same. 

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!” 

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.” 

“Guess what.” 

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again. 

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours. 

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many. 

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home? 

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet. 

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.” 

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin. 

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony. 

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same. 

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret. 

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?” 

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself. 

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

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tbc. :)

-

so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[constantmourning]

Funny Business

[Buggy x Fem!Reader]

Summary: You take care of Buggy while he's just a head, he returns the favor.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: NSFT, 18+, biting, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of devil fruit (lol), sex in the woods, oral (f receiving) (Let me know if I forgot any!)

A/N: I saw @ah-finally make a post that gave me this idea! I will link it once i find it again. I started writing this over a month ago I think? The pacing isn't my favorite (pacing isn't ever my favorite), but i love this fic with my whole being, i hope y'all do too!

"Stay still!" You hissed, trying to stay quiet. Buggy did not want to listen. "I don't want to drown you!"

Buggy scoffed, "It doesn't seem like it right now!" Buggy hissed back, his voice low.

You pulled Buggy back from the water and furrowed your brows at him. "I'm being serious. Buggy, I wanna wash your hair, I really don't want to harm you… Do you trust me?"

Buggy snorted, "I have no reason to."

You gasped in shock. "I offered to take care of you when everyone wants nothing to do with you–"

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know!" You almost yelled. "Buggy…" you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I just want you to be comfortable. Greasy hair isn't always comfortable. And, anyway, this is a bonding experience."

Buggy's eyes narrowed. "Do you realize who you're talking to? You are a Straw Hat and I'm Buggy." When you only nodded and smiled Buggy groaned. "You can wash my hair, under one condition." You perked up. "Do not put my damn head under that faucet."

"Of course!" You were excited. "May I?" You questioned him, motioning towards his bandana. When he nodded you slowly undid it and took it off of him. Buggy watched you closely as you wet your hands and then wet his hair. You were so gentle. Buggy couldn't recall the last time someone was that gentle. At least, he didn't want to anyway. You softly hummed as you rubbed shampoo into his hair.

"We don't have showers on board, but I do like to keep hygiene products with me. I wash my hair like this a lot." Your eyes focused on Buggy's hair and all the spots that needed scrubbing.

"You take a whore's bath?" He laughed.

You froze before massaging the shampoo deep into his scalp. "Yeah, I guess? If you want to call it that…"

It was silent between the two of you. Not too awkward. At least not for you. You were focused on cleaning him up and hoping having clean hair would make him less angry. You stood up to get the back of Buggy's head, and forgetting you could walk around him and get it that way, you leaned over him and contorted into an uncomfortable position, but scrubbed away regardless.

Buggy, not saying anything, stared and stared. He was eye level with your chest and couldn't help but look at your cleavage while you washed his hair. Your shirt dipped down, revealing cleavage anyway, but with your position in that moment, it was way more visible and quite literally the only thing Buggy could look at it. Your humming resumed and Buggy sighed. He couldn't lie, he was content at that moment. The feeling of your fingers gently getting into his scalp, your soft humming, and your boobs right in his face. What more could someone need?

You leaned back and sat back down in the chair you had pulled up to the sink. Buggy's eyes quickly cut from your chest back to your eyes. You, ignoring that, turned the water back on. "I'm going to need to rinse your hair now." You look at Buggy with a curious expression, "Can I at least lean you back into the faucet? I promise I'll be careful!" Before Buggy could protest you hit him with, "You can look at my boobs while I do it."

Buggy was contemplating, before finally saying, "Okay."

You smiled at him and stood back up again. You gently grabbed him, placing your hands at his jawline, and you paused. A knock came from the door. Your eyes widened and you looked at Buggy, watching as he opened his mouth to talk. Immediately, you covered his mouth with one hand.

"Yeah?" You asked loudly, voice slightly shaking.

"Hm?" A groggy Zoro's voice alerted you. He would launch you off the boat along with Buggy if he knew you were being so nice to the man that had tried to kill him. "Are you okay?"

Your eyes never left Buggy's. "Yes! I'm fine. Just washing up!" You didn't say what you were washing though. "Y'know, just my regular whore's bath."

Buggy smiled under your hand. You could feel it. Zoro grumbled. "Whatever, just no funny business." He walked off.

You sighed and uncovered Buggy's mouth. You continued as if nothing had happened. Buggy did not want to leave it alone though. He thought it was too fun to do that. "Regular whore's bath eh?”

You do not answer him. Instead, you slowly, and ever so gently, leaned his head back in the water. You held him steady with one hand, while you rinsed his hair with the other. You leaned over him and felt his stare burning onto your skin. You occupied yourself with more humming and finished faster than you thought you would. You pulled his head from the faucet and grabbed a towel.

“Care if I dry your hair a little bit? I don’t want you to get my covers wet.”

“Your covers?”

“Yeah, you’re coming to my bed with me, aren’t you? I figure I could tuck you away in my room and then grab some food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Buggy lit up before narrowing his eyes, “You’re being awfully nice.”

“I know, it’s weird being treated like a person, huh?” You quipped back at him, smiling. “Now, can I dry your hair?”

Buggy sighed and mumbled, "Yeah." You smiled at him and tenderly placed the towel to his hair and dried it as much as possible. At least it wasn't dripping wet anymore. You threw the towel aside and picked up Buggy's head. You warned him to be quiet as you exited the bathroom. You walked to your room and closed your door. You placed Buggy on your bed and smiled at him.

"Sanji's a great cook, you're going to love his food! I'm gonna go grab whatever leftovers there are. I'll be right back!"

You didn't give Buggy any time to respond. You quickly left your room, shutting the door behind you. You walked towards the kitchen and looked for any leftovers. As you were grabbing a plate you were stopped.

"You're up late. What are you doing?" Sanji startled you.

You turned to him and inhaled sharply. "I'm still hungry! Just grabbing some extra food. You know how it is." You patted your stomach and gave him a toothy grin. "Your food is to die for."

Sanji narrowed his eyes, "Why do you have two forks?"

"Because I don't like mixing the foods and flavors. I need one fork for fish and one for the sides." You spoke matter of fact. As if he should have known that. "Duh."

You did not let Sanji ask any other questions. You bolted back to your room and opened the door. You shut it quietly and locked it. Just in case. You didn't need any 'funny business' unfolding. Not if you could help it. Buggy was sitting where you left him. You approached him with the plate and sat beside him.

"Two forks?" Buggy questioned you.

"One for you, one for me. Duh." You playfully rolled your eyes and pulled your legs up to you, crossing them and placing the plate on them. "Now, I don't want this to be awkward-"

"You just washed my hair, and I'm just a head. This is already awkward, I'm afraid."

"You're right!" You agreed enthusiastically. "It probably can't get more awkward." You picked the fork up and stabbed at the fish. "Open wide, I promise I won't gag you with this eating utensil."

"Oh, that's very suspicious." Buggy rolled his eyes. "If you gag me with that fork I'm going to-"

"What? Bite me?" You scoffed. "Actually, that'd be kind of–" You stopped yourself. That caught Buggy's attention though.

"Kind of what?" He raised his brow.

"Shut up and let me feed you."

Buggy did not protest. He was starving. You placed the fork in his mouth and pulled it back slowly. Buggy's eyes were focused on you. And your eyes were focused on the food at hand. You took a bite yourself, on a different fork, and then grabbed Buggy's fork and fed him some more. Buggy's eyes never left you. It was honestly making it way more awkward when you thought it couldn't get more awkward…

"May I help you?" You questioned him, feeling uneasy all the sudden.

"You could keep feeding me." He gave you a sweet smile. You melted, almost immediately. Buggy took note of that, also immediately. "You know…" Buggy started, keeping you from feeding him further. "You don't have to be this nice."

"You know," you mimicked his tone, "I can't feed you when you're talking." You grabbed the plate and set it beside you, uncrossing your legs and staring at Buggy as you found a comfortable position.

"You could–" Buggy snorted, "it wouldn't be pleasant though."

"I think that would really get me bitten."

"You must have a thing for that." Buggy started, nonchalantly. "Someone biting you."

You could feel yourself heating up. "Why would you even–" You stopped yourself. "I can see why actually. So what? It's not the worst thing one could do to me? I mean, in a weird way. Not a violent way–"

"No need to explain yourself, Straw Hat."

"Don't call me that." You huffed.

"But that's what you are. You're part of Luffy's crew, right?"

You pouted at Buggy. "Yes, but that's not the point. You keep saying it in a condescending tone. Like I'm not good enough because I'm a Straw Hat."

Buggy didn't say anything else. You finished eating and feeding him. You set the plate down beside your bed and looked back at Buggy. Who was looking dead at you. You leaned back against the bed frame and watched Buggy. You noticed his face makeup was smeared from all the stuff going on and you stood up.

"What?" Buggy questioned you. "What are you doing now?"

"Can I do something?" You pulled out your red lipstick and smiled at him widely. "I wanna fix–"

Buggy groaned. "You keep asking to do these things as if I could do anything other than bite you, which it seems like you would enjoy, so why do you keep asking?"

"Consent is nice, y'know." You shrugged at his questions. "I don't know, I don't wanna overstep any boundaries."

Buggy sighed again, "You can fix whatever you wanted to fix. No complaints here."

"Yes!" You exclaimed excitedly. You rushed back to the bed and Buggy looked at you with wide eyes. You weren't about to be any less gentle though. You grabbed your pillow and propped his head up on it, before grabbing your lipstick and getting as close to him as humanly possible. You, once again, were laser focused on Buggy. His eyes watched you as you bit down on and stuck out your tongue. You grabbed the nape of his neck and put the lipstick on his lips very carefully.

"Do you just kinda–" You paused and narrowed your eyes, and then motioned as if you were smearing lipstick on your own face.

Buggy laughed. "If that's what you think will give it that effect, knock yourself out."

Your lips pursed and eyes narrowed even more, you slowly nodded. You were thinking hard. Harder than ever. Buggy's bright eyes watched yours and when he licked his lips you furrowed your brows. "What?" You asked, pulling back from him.

"You look nice, y'know?" Buggy swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your eyes widened in shock.

"Me? A Straw Hat?" You gasped, placing a hand on your chest. You were hiding nervousness with humor.

"I'm serious. It's hot when get so focused on something, and don't even get me started on how attentive–"

You almost jumped when you realized he was being completely serious. "Stop." Your eyes were wide and full of something Buggy couldn't read. "Let me finish your look before you go saying anything like that."

Buggy didn't want to shut up, but he also didn't like that you were suddenly so… upset. He couldn't help but think you were off put by him suddenly. You had been doing all of this for him, and what if he blew it?

You were positively burning up. You were sure your hands were shaking at that point and you could not think straight. You were so close to Buggy and you were realizing more and more just how kissable he was. You wanted to scream. But that would alert everyone and you didn't want someone to bust in on you in that position. You stopped, your eyes locking with Buggy's and you said the first thing popped into your head.

"Buggy?" You were terrified. But as soon as Buggy hummed in response (you did not register he seemed agitated), the words fell from your mouth "Can I kiss you?"

Buggy was shocked. "What?"

You immediately pulled all the way back from him and stared at him with a shocked look. You swallowed hard and let out a nervous laugh. "I'm just– Sorry, I may have misread–"

"No you didn't." Buggy wanted you close to him again. "You can kiss me."

Your heart jumped into your throat. You could feel it beating against your ribcage and butterflies were circling in your stomach. You were sure you were about to catch fire. You leaned down and grabbed a hold of his jawline. Buggy was getting antsy. You were not moving fast enough and he could not do anything about it. But as soon as you leaned down to him and pressed your lips to his… you were both like starved animals.

His fresh makeup was smearing all over your face and you had no cares. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you, without hesitation, parted your lips letting him in your mouth. Buggy wanted to grab you, hold you in his arms, know it was real… and you? You were absolutely content with just his head. You were unaware he needed to know that.

When you pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your chest was tight and your head was spinning. You were conflicted. You were anxious and you looked at Buggy with confusion.

"Uh, did I…?"

You shook your head, "No! That was… I haven't been kissed like that in a while. I just– I hadn't expected this to turn out this way… Buggy, I like you a lot."

"But?" He groaned, expecting it to go down hill.

"But what? There is no but. I genuinely like doing this stuff for you. Luffy saved my life, and I feel like I owe him. But, you? God, Buggy, I think I'd leave that for you." You whispered the words as if someone could hear you.

Buggy was wide eyed. "Oh?" He smiled. "Well, I was thinking, I could give you another reason to leave." When finished the sentence your brow cocked. "I wanna repay you. You have been exceptionally nice and very gentle, delicate. I haven't felt that in… a while. It's the least I can do."

You cocked your head. "How?" You were genuinely oblivious. Buggy's eyes dropped from yours, to your legs and it still didn't seem to click.

"Let's just say," Buggy smiled, "I want to figure out if I like you better than that chef's food."

Your eyes were wide once again when it clicked. "Oh!" You blinked a couple times, absolutely no thoughts in your head for a moment. You had malfunctioned, it had seemed, and your silence was loud. You spoke up before Buggy could misread the silence. "Okay."

"Okay?" Buggy questioned you.

"I mean, yeah?" You were questioning yourself mostly. "Yeah!" You grew more enthusiastic. "You really wanna, y'know… go down on me when you're just… a head?"

"I see no better opportunity, baby." Buggy winked at you. Your stomach flipped.

"When Luffy saved me, I never imagined this happening, I'll be honest." You stood up from Buggy and began to take your pants off.

"What?" Buggy snorted, "A head giving you head?"

You wanted to say 'duh', but you refrained. You kicked your pants across the room and pulled at your shirt. Buggy sat (almost) patiently, waiting for you to come back to bed. You sucked in air and fidgeted.

"Shirt off?" You asked, as if it was even a question.

"Duh." Buggy mocked your earlier duh, from when you were feeding him. "Unless you aren't comfortable." Buggy knew what it was like to be self conscious.

"Let me get settled first." Your voice was soft, a whisper. You slid your panties off and stepped out of them. You inhaled sharply and made your way back to bed. You lied on the bed and grabbed Buggy's head, placing him on your stomach.

"C'mon, I'm dying for dessert, baby."

You let out a laugh and pushed yourself up the headboard. You spread your legs slightly and placed Buggy between them. As soon as he was down there you pulled your shirt off. Buggy's eyes were on your chest immediately. Your face prickled with more heat and you refrained from covering yourself.

"When I get my body back…" Buggy's eyes were full of lust.

Your hands gripped at the sheets and your eyes averted his gaze. Buggy, while you were distracted, dove in head first. His tongue began to lap at you. You gasped, not expecting him at that moment. Buggy smiled against you. You, before getting too foggy, decided to help him. He didn't have any hands at the time, so you slid your hand down your stomach and used your index and pointer finger to part your lips for him. Buggy immediately went to town.

Your hips gently rocked forward and your free hand went to your mouth. Buggy's tongue swirled around your clit and your jaw clenched. Your hips jutted upwards slightly and stayed there, giving Buggy a better angle. He was being just as attentive as you were earlier. His nose hit your clit and you were unraveling already. Your hand gripped your mouth as you moaned for him. Your hand moved from your mouth briefly, you needed him to know how he made you feel.

"Buggy–" You tried to stay as quiet as possible. "Fuck," you were breathless. "I'm gonna–" Everything was tense and hot and bubbling over. You bucked your hips one last time and came undone from his tongue. You covered your mouth one last time and bit into your palm. Buggy continued to lap at you through your high. His movements slowed but he still kept going.

Your hips fell onto the bed and you lied there, Buggy finally stopped and you caught your breath. You were sprawled out on the bed, Buggy's head still between your legs. Your eyes locked with his and you could tell he was smiling. You sighed and leaned forward, picking him up and resting him on your abdomen. Your breathing was slow and ragged. Buggy was pleased with himself. You shut your eyes for a moment and collected yourself. Buggy watched you, waiting for your next move. He was curious to know what you were thinking. If you were willing to really leave with him…

"Buggy…?" Your brows furrowed. He hummed (this time not agitated), and you continued, "If I somehow survive Arlong… I promise you–"

"Hold on." Buggy interrupted you. "I don't want you to say something you don't mean because you just orgasmed."

"No, no," you opened your eyes to look at him, hoping he'd take you more seriously with eye contact. "Buggy, I'm going to live and I'm going to leave with you." Buggy took it all in. “You don’t have to say anything right now…” You smiled at him. “I need sleep and you do too.” You moved Buggy beside you and placed him on your pillow, and you rolled over onto your side, staring at him. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Buggy whispered as you closed your eyes.

Sleep was much needed. Unknown to you, Buggy stayed up for a little while longer, watching you. He wanted nothing more than to hold you so close and know it was all real. He wondered briefly what he had done to deserve someone like you… So nice, caring, and gentle. He didn’t think about it too long; he decided to sleep as well.

Buggy’s head was on Sanji’s hip. You had tried to get them to let you hold him, but Zoro seemed to be onto something, so you did not protest when Sanji told you he had it.

When you had made it to Arlong Park fear and anxiety was at an all time high. You were capable of fighting, but you had never fought anyone like the Fishmen. Not by a long shot. The smoke bombs began to go off inside and Luffy busted open the gates of the park. You were beside Usopp when hell broke loose. You watched as he reared back and shot something, hitting one of the fishmen in the face effortlessly. Your eyes widened, Usopp grabbed you when the fishman began to chase him.

“Usopp!” You started to run as well, “I need to stay back– I have to help!” Usopp did not listen. You were both running through the woods at that point, you could not turn around and be collateral damage.

“Run!” Was the only thing Usopp responded with. “Split up! He’s after me, not you! I’ll find you later, I promise.”

You did not hesitate to take off running away from Usopp. You wanted to try to find your way back, to get Buggy, but you did not know your way around. You reached a good, healthy distance from the fishman chasing Usopp and froze. You turned a circle and realized how lost you were. You groaned.

“How the fuck do I find Buggy now?” You threw your head back.

Your legs ached, your lungs burned. You huffed and crossed your arms. You started to walk in an unknown direction, and hoped it was leading you somewhere. You heard a crunch of leaves from ahead of you and you froze again. This time from fear. Your entire body tensed and you kept from calling out, just in case it was someone wanting to kill you.

It could be Usopp, you thought to yourself. Something touched your back and your jaw clenched. You turned around slowly and a disembodied, gloved hand waved at you. You immediately lit up. The hand moved from around you and you looked over your shoulder, following its movements. It disappeared behind some trees. You heard a ‘pop’ and footsteps again. You turned to face the steps and Buggy walked out from behind a tree.

“Buggy!” You were running for him instantly. You leaped onto him and wrapped your arms around him. “Buggy…” You buried your face in his neck and Buggy relaxed against you. You felt it. “I tried to stay back, Usopp dragged me out, I don’t think he wanted me getting hurt. I didn’t know how to get back, I wanted to get back–”

“Whoa!” Buggy’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. He did not want to let you go. Not yet. Not ever. "We're here now." His hand grabbed your shirt. It was your turn to relax against him.

"I didn't want you to think I was running away from you," You pulled away and looked at him.

Buggy could have sworn his heart fluttered. He inhaled sharply and looked down at you. Thoughts from the night you two had before came flooding back. Buggy had promised when he got his body back–

"I know, uh," You pulled away, fidgeting slightly, "we're in the middle of nowhere in these woods, and Usopp is most definitely looking for me, but all I can think about is the other night and you…"

Buggy was smirking immediately. "You aren't thinking about fucking in these woods are you, Straw Hat?"

Your face prickled with heat. "I'm just thinking about fucking." You nervously laughed. "So if you happen to know a place–"

Buggy did not let you finish. He was on you in an instant. He cupped your face and kissed you, ravenously. He held you as close as possible, hands pulling you as close to him as possible. Your arms wrapped around him and you held him just as tight. As soon as Buggy pulled away you gasped, looking at him wide eyed.

“I'm going to be honest, I've probably been hard since I gave you head.” Buggy looked at you as if you were everything to him. “We could find-”

“We could fuck here.” You were breathless. “Just, uh, maybe lay your jacket down?” You wanted nothing more than to be railed. You needed it. You didn't care if Usopp happened to find you or not. You didn't care about anything other than Buggy.

Buggy was quick to remove his jacket and throw it down. He motioned towards it, as if to show it off and you giggled. You launched yourself back into Buggy’s arms and kissed him again. His tongue darted into your mouth and you groaned.

Before you knew it you were laid down on his jacket, Buggy’s thigh between your legs and his arms caging you in. Then, your hands were cupping his face, and the both of you were as close as close could be. You pulled back from kissing him and pressed your forehead to his.

“Having second thoughts?” Buggy became serious.

“Never,” you pouted, wondering why he even felt you would be. “I wasn't lying, when I said I’d leave Luffy's crew for you. It's still true.”

“Then what's on your mind?”

“I owe you, don't you think I should return the favor?” You cocked your head to the side.

“Baby, as much as I’d love for you to suck my cock, I need to fuck you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, “I need you too.” Your voice was soft and you sounded deprived. You were deprived. You wanted nothing more than for him to take you right then and there. You needed him to do that.

You saying that you needed him, that was all it took. The look of need on your face, the soft glint in your eyes, the way you bit the inside of your lip… Buggy was also ready to rip his clothes off. He did want nothing more than to take time with you, but that would have to wait. The look in his eyes was suddenly feral, rabid. The way you stared up at him from your position under him was breathtaking. He needed more of that.

“I promise,” Buggy bent down to kiss you, and began to speak in between kisses, “whenever we get back to my ship I'll take my time with you.” He pulled back and placed his forehead to yours. “But for now-”

“Please,” you began to beg, “just fuck me…”

With that, Buggy was ripping your clothes off. He was pulling at your pants while you slid your top off. You lied there beneath him, wearing nothing but panties, breathing heavily. The look in Buggy's eyes was darker and suddenly much more lustful. His fingers crept under the waistband of your panties and he began to slowly pull them down. The cool air hit the sensitive skin and you gasped.

Buggy moved his gloved hand up to his mouth, removing the glove with his teeth. He spit it out beside you and chills ran down your spine. Your breathing became even heavier. His, now bare, hand moved back towards your pussy and he slowly pushed a finger inside of you.

“I wanna test something,” he mumbled, moving closer to you, “before we get to the main event.”

His pace quickened, and another finger was pushed inside of you. But that wasn't what he wanted to test. You were becoming too hot to even think about what it could be though. Buggy kissed your neck and down to your collarbone. That's when you felt it, his teeth sinking into your skin. He nibbled and bit at your skin and your hips bucked. You began to scratch at his forearms.

“Buggy!” You helped out, loudly. His fingers sped up a little more, and between that and the biting, you were sent over the edge. You were pleading, begging at that point. Your eyes screwed shut and your nails raked down his arms. You yelled out for him again as you came undone. The pit in your stomach unraveled and your hips followed his fingers as he pulled them out. “Buggy…” Your voice was softer than before.

Buggy mocked your tone, repeating your name to you. He looked down at you lovingly though. Love and lust filled him. He was sure it was mostly lust, but he was also sure he loved the way you said his name and reacted to him. He was sure he loved you. He just wasn't sure he was ready to say anything about that. So, he did the next best thing.

“Are you ready now?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. You nodded, causing Buggy to briefly remove himself from you and quickly undress himself.

He positioned himself back over you. You kissed him again and brought your knees up, spreading your legs slightly. Buggy kissed back, he kissed you like he needed you. Like you were the air he had to breathe. You were sure in that moment, you loved him. You had come to the conclusion it was a possibility, but then? You were sure.

Buggy thrusted, his hips hitting yours. One of his hands gripped your thigh and his other one held himself steady above you. You gasped and gripped his back. You leaned up and kissed his neck as he thrusted again. Buggy let out a groan. You wrapped your legs around him and you were sure you couldn't get much closer. But that didn't stop you from trying. You were tangled together and neither of you were slowing down.

Buggy mumbled your name, a mantra, in your ear. He was getting close. You were too.  Buggy's hips were rocking against yours, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the forest. If Usopp hadn't found you yet, you were sure he heard you. You couldn't bring yourself to care though.

“Buggy,” you whined, nails dragging down his back. “I need to- Fuck, I need you-”

“I'm gonna-”

You were both mumbling messes. Buggy finally said something coherent. “Where?”

“Inside.” Your eyes shut again. Your hips rocked with his and you came undone again.

As soon as your orgasm hit, you felt Buggy come inside of you. He didn't even think about arguing with you on the place he came. His thrusts slowed and became sloppier, before coming to a complete stop and both of you lying there.

Buggy let himself fall slightly. More of his weight on top of you. You were both sweaty and sticky, and you didn't care. You wanted nothing more than to be there with him. If the fear of being caught were not so real, you would have stayed there forever with him.

Your legs fell from Buggy and hit the ground. Buggy pulled out of you, and he began to stand up. “Can't really clean up here, might need to find uh-”

“Well,” you started, “Arlong’s Park isn't too far-” you tried to sound serious.

Buggy, who was pulling his pants up, froze. “Very funny, Straw Hat.”

“Oh,” you feigned hurt, beginning to get up and get dressed yourself, “I didn't think I was a Straw Hat anymore…” Buggy lit up at the realization. “What? You think I was gonna hit it and get it?” You smiled at Buggy, “You're stuck with me now, Buggy!”

Buggy smiled and picked his jacket up off the ground, and placed it over your shoulders.

“That… I think I can live with that.”

You kissed Buggy quickly before looking around and placing your hands on your hips, “Okay really, I don't know my way out of here…”

“Don't worry,” Buggy began to walk ahead of you, “I'm more than capable of getting us out of here.”

You believed him. You trusted him. So you nodded, and began to follow him. You grabbed his hand and Buggy faltered momentarily. He looked back at you and all you did was smile. Buggy smiled back and turned to face ahead of him. He was absolutely positive being ‘stuck’ with you was going to be a great thing.

[maximumkillshot]

"I Can't Lose You" Part 3

Warnings: This one is bad... Like bad bad. Uhm so please pay attention to these warnings. *Brings out a scroll with a solemn face.* Descriptions of Blood, Emergency medical procedure explainations, Shock, Grief, Chan gets shoved once, (IF YOU WANT NO SPOILERS AND KNOW YOU CAN HANDLE THE FIC CONTINUE) Child Loss, Descriptions of miscarriage.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: OC Doctor, Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: I know the cut is very high up but I needed to be sure that it wouldn't trigger someone would get triggered by the story. I am so sorry I am doing this to y'all. But here we are. Enjoy getting your heart ripped out? I guess. IF YOU WANT MORE TELL ME!

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not. 

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

NOW:

Once both Bin and the Doctor were in the hall and closed the sliding door separating you from the bustling main hallway, Bin got that feeling again. That sick feeling that something was wrong. The doctor looked like he was trying to stay professional. 

It was then that Bin noticed the doctor's wedding ring. He wondered to himself if the doctor was like Bin. So deep in love that seeing anyone else doesn’t just feel blasphemous, but it’s so out of the question it’s nauseating. The doctor began.

“Are you her husband?” He asked.

“No…” Bin replied. He could feel the bile rising in his throat with that one question. He immediately thought, If I was this never would’ve happened.

“Are you family?” The doctor looked at him.

“Yes. Are they okay?” Bin looked at the doctor.

“She lost a lot of blood, through something called a hemorrhage. It’s a rare complication especially this early on. She wouldn’t have made it if this happened at home. But it’s under control now.” the doctor said. He seemed to be trying to be as sympathetic as possible, making the next question sting more.

“Okay, and the baby?” Bin asked as he was trying to hold on to the possibility, some shred of hope that you and the baby were okay. He didn’t want the answer to be…

“I’m sorry.” The doctor slowly shook his head as he bowed his head slightly. The doctor looked guilty, like this was the worst part of his job, not being able to save someone. 

“How? Why?” Bin asked as it felt like his heart twisted. He didn’t know how you were going to get through this. He knew you too well. He knew that the pain you were about to feel, the emotional pain, would spell your demise... Bin couldn’t wouldn’t let that happen. 

“There is a cause-and-effect relationship that stress, extreme traumatic stress, like what you described, can cause a mis--” “Please don’t finish that word.” Bin pleaded with tears in his eyes. That word. He’s never hated a word in his life, until now. A word like that, even the word Death is kinder. To die you need to have lived in the first place, breathe air, feel emotions, like happiness, fear, love… None of those things happened for your child, through no fault of their mother. The same woman he’s staring at, the very same woman he always stared at. 

“The fact that she went through the shock as well as the prolonged stress after that shock, and didn’t have any previous symptoms of that happening prior to that, rules out all of the other options.” he paused and looked at his ring. Bin could tell what he was thinking, the doctor’s jaw tight, I could never dream of doing that, then continued, “You know her better than I do. Will she need something to calm her down?”

“Yes… but I don’t think she’ll accept it.” Bin looked back at you and Han. You looked so out of it. Like you were and were not there simultaneously. He has never seen you like this. From what he could see it looked like Han was doing his best to distract you. He was playing with your fingers as he joked. 

It was convincing enough to relax you, but Bin knew better. His eyes are always so expressive, if he's genuinely relaxed, his eyes show it. Bin could tell that Han was many things at this point in time, and worry free was not one of them. 

“Would you like to tell her?” the doctor asked. That question made Bin think a little bit. If he did tell you, he didn't know if you'd believe him. It's easier to ignore reality when the person breaking the news isn't a doctor. You'd accept it if it came from the doctor. 

“She’ll believe it if you say it… Just have the medicine on standby. Also, what do we do to help her? What’s next?” He asked.

“Well like I said her bleeding was extensive... I want to keep her for at least a full 24 hours, in case the bleeding starts again. I’ll also arrange for her to meet with the OBGYN during that time as well, to make sure we got all of the tissue out, that way there’s no chance of another hemorrhage or infection. Sounds like a plan?” The doctor asked.

“Yes… thank you." Bin took a deep breath before he went in, the doctor trailing behind him. 

The doctor closed the sliding door as Bin looked at you, then at Han briefly. He lowered the guardrail and made eye contact with Han, who mirrored his actions shortly after. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N” the doctor began but you cut him off. 

“My baby. Please tell me my baby’s okay… please,” the urgency written on your face. 

Han's eyes were set on Changbin. The minute you asked that question, Bin lowered his head, jaw tight, and tears were already beginning to form. When Bin looked at Han, he already knew. 

The doctor looked at you and said “I...I’m so sorry.” 

Your face showed nothing but confusion… you had just gotten the first ultrasound. You had it done a week ago. No, you saw your baby.

“Y/N” Bin asked gently. He saw the look on your face, and it killed him. Seeing your brain reach for any other outcome other than the one right in your face. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear as he watched and waited for the understanding to reach your face, it didn’t.

“No, it can’t be, I just got the ultrasound done. No,” you replied.

Han and Bin looked at each other. Han's eyebrows dipped, as he processed and tried to brace for impact. Bin on the other hand, was willing himself to take a step back, knowing that you needed to hear this. It had to get through, that's the only way you could start healing. 

The doctor looked solemn as he said, “Mrs. Y/L/N I could tell that you were and still are contracting. The reason why your body is doing it, from what I can discern, is because your body went through extreme stress and emotional trauma, when that happens this early, your body rejects the pregnancy. That does not mean that this is your fault, it's the opposite. It’s completely out of your control.”

Bin could see the cogs turning in your brain as you slowly started shaking your head. Reality starting to seep in. Bin wished that you didn't have to go through this. That you got the fairytale ending without the heartbreak. That you didn't have to face the death of your own child. That pain, anguish, and suffering. 

The doctor continued, “There is an even rarer condition in which the body rejecting the pregnancy ends in a condition called a hemorrhage. It’s a technical term for excessive bleeding, in this case, it happened because your body is trying to expel the tissues in your cervix. Because it was so sudden, your cervix didn’t have time to open. When I examined you, you weren’t even at half a centimeter dilation, and all of that tissue was trying to be expelled. That was why I had to do that procedure, to get the tissue out so bleeding could be minimized. I’m so sorry… but you had a miscarriage.”

Once that word was said the scream that you let out was something that Han nor Bin have ever heard in their lives. It was soul-crushing. Both of them could hear your heart breaking, shattered on the ground. Bin and Han wanted nothing more than to pick up those pieces and fix it. They knew that they couldn't, this is a hurt they can't fix.

Han held you as you screamed, begged, pleaded… You looked at Bin. “Bin please, look at me. Please tell me it's not true… Please you don’t lie to me, I know you'll tell the truth pleeease.”

Bin looked at you, “I can’t tell you it’s not true. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The look of devastation on his face only sealed the fact. Bin has never lied to you so why would he start now? Especially with something as serious as whether or not you had a miscarriage. 

The look that painted his face, brows upturned as his eye contact was nothing short of empathetic. You could tell he wanted to lie. 

He wanted it to be false, that it was just some freak minor bleeding… that the baby was okay…he wanted it so badly… but you can't want something into existence. 

That realization hit you in a split second as the monitors that were connected to you, measuring vitals, started going off. You could feel nothing but pain. The involuntary gnawing, pulling pain. The blood, the cold from lack of blood in your body…The physical agony was nothing compared to what you felt in that split second. 

Your heart rate was literally too fast for you to register, pain surging through you as comprehension slammed into you like a tsunami. The baby is gone. Your baby. Your heart rate was through the roof and the doctor went to your IV.

“Y/N I’m going to give you something to calm you down okay? Your heart can’t take this stress, it’ll give out.” The doctor pushed the medication. 

“I want my baby…Bin I want my baby… Han please, my baby.” You sobbed as you held on to Han. 

All Bin could do was say, “I know you do, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Han got on the gurney with you and cradled you. He cried with you. Prayed that it was just a nightmare. Han looked to Bin, only to find him trying to fight the tears that were falling down his face. Bin's soul was hurting for you, bargaining with whatever powers out there, to give himself up for you and your child. He knew it was irrational but if he could've, he would've. 

As soon as the medicine kicked in your breathing started to slow. You still whimpered and cringed as you felt your body bearing down, still shaking slightly and cold to the touch. Han draped his jacket over you, resting you against his chest, singing to you, to calm you. 

Every once in a while reality would crash into you again, you’d reach for Bin. You knew why you did, he was always there. He always understood you on a deeper level. Sometimes he knew what you needed when you didn’t even know you needed it. 

Eventually he pulled up a chair and laid his head on his forearm, hand in yours and close to his lips. as he gently rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. As soon as you’d squeeze that hand he’d squeeze back as he nuzzled into your hand. His way of letting you know that yes, this is the reality, but he is still here. Wordlessly, endlessly, he’d be here. Sometimes you’d comb your fingers through his hair, the feeling somewhat comforting.  

You were so tired it went down to your bones. Sometimes only mustering a long blink at the pain. Eventually your vitals started looking good enough to transport.

The doctor came in with solemn reverence, like he was intruding on a funeral.“Y/N, we’re going to keep you overnight at the least, you’re going to have a visit from the OBGYN in the morning, okay? We have your bed ready so soon someone’s going to come to transport you.”

You just looked up at the doctor and nodded, “T-thank you” you hiccupped, “Hannie and Binnie are staying with me.”

“I’ve already put a cot in the room for them. I wish I could’ve done more,” he said with a sad smile. Bin got up and shook his hand, thanking him.

As soon as the transport nurses came to get you Bin said “I’ll see you in a bit. I just need to do something really quick.” you nodded and Bin kissed your forehead. He had to go back to the house. He didn’t know why immediately, just that he had to. 

He was on autopilot the entire ride to the house, except for the red lights.  He didn’t need to be strong at those lights. He’d scream where no one could hear him. Letting the pain out as images of you flashed. Smiling, then flashing to the scream you let out. Laughing, then sobbing in that hospital gurney. Cooking with him, to crying on Han. 

His screams were from mourning, pain, and frustration. He mourned the baby and you. The pain for you, the pain of realizing all of the things that you won’t experience. The frustration of not being able to see it before. To protect you, guard you. He wanted to rip something… someone… apart. There. That was the impulse that drove him back to the house.

At the last red light, he breathed deep, not even wanting to. He used whatever force that was left over as he screamed one last time. Everything he did, your child would never experience. Every scream echoed, redoubling the anguish he had for the both of you. Culminating into this, silence as he turned the corner to the house.

To his surprise, all of the other member’s cars were still at the house when he pulled up. When he parked, he looked at the clock on his dashboard, it was 2 a.m. Had it been 6 hours already? 

He felt his adrenaline kick up as he opened the door. He found everyone still wide awake, waiting for answers, but one look at Bin and they gathered what they needed.

Chan walked into the room from the kitchen and his jaw dropped upon seeing him.

“Bin…what happened?” Felix asked gently, hand’s slightly raised, as if approaching a wild animal. The aura on Bin wasn’t his aloof, goofy, self, it was the opposite; dark, threatening, dangerous. Bin’s eyes were trained on Chan, the closer he got, the more Bin felt his resolve slipping… Chan looked at him up and down, concern and horror written on his face. It was only then that Bin noticed he was covered in your blood.

His resolved snapped at that realization, upper lip ticking into a repressed snarl as he breathed “I’m… going to kill you.” He made a B-line to Chan. Felix, Minho, and Jeongin had to hold him back. 

Once Bin realized he couldn’t get to Chan, he screamed, “Was it worth it?! HUH?!!” His veins were popping out under his skin as he struggled to get free, “Was it?! Tell me! You hurt and nearly killed the only person I’ve ever loved. She’s dead inside now, all thanks to you!” More flashes accompanied that sentence, him picking you up and watching you go limp, eyes fluttering.

Felix looked at Bin and said, “What?... Hyung..” Felix's voice trailed off, trying to process what he heard. Felix knew that if he heard Bin correctly…he couldn’t even complete that thought.

Bin’s eyes snapped to Felix and he relaxed to the point where all three let go.

“The doctor said that because of the severe stress and emotional trauma she endured her body rejected the pregnancy.” He bum-rushed Chan and slammed him against the wall, while everyone was either in shock or processing. Felix was the first and only one to try to get Bin off Chan. Changbin was just too strong for the younger man, he ignored Felix as he tried wordlessly to pry Bin away from Chan. 

Bin continued staring into Chan's eyes, “The miscarriage was so sudden, in fact, that she hemorrhaged and almost bled to death because her cervix couldn’t open on its own in time. They had to scrape the tissue out just to stop it from killing her! And she looked at me to see if it was really true because I don’t LIE to her. Then they had to sedate her because her heart was going to give out when she realized that it was true.”

At this point Bin tightened his grip on Chan, “You are lucky that she asked for me to stay with her… If not I would kill you, right here. You are going to stay AWAY until or even IF she ever wants to see you again. I mean it Chan, if you come near her, I will end you. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With that, he dropped Chan and went to the washroom. He washed off as much blood as he could and went to his room to change into spare clothes. He wanted to destroy everything in his room. His keepsakes, his picture frames of the boys all together. There was only one picture frame that he did smash to dust before he left his room… the one of himself and Chan, on Chan’s wedding day. He picked up his bloody clothes, stalked back out to Chan, and threw the clothing at him. 

He was shaking with rage as he said, “To YOU… this could’ve been a game or a thrill, fucking with her heart. But THAT!” he pointed to the clothing, “that is the reality. A child is dead, your child and it almost killed Y/N too. Next time you want to contact her, look at what you did to both of them while you do it.”

Before Chan could say anything Bin was slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the wall itself vibrated. Right as he made it to his car Felix ran to him. “Can I go with you?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving the hospital for the whole night, you know that, right?” 

Felix nodded and got into the passenger seat. The whole ride over Felix couldn’t help but to stare at Bin. He has never seen him like this. So enraged that he was three seconds away from crushing Chris’ windpipe. 

He also noted how Bin didn’t seem to know that he was covered in blood until Chris looked at him. Even now he could see Bin’s grip on the steering wheel was so strong his knuckles were white. He didn’t know exactly what happened in those four hours they weren’t given updates, and Felix knows just by seeing Bin, he never wants to find out. 

As soon as Bin entered your hospital room he heard you say “Binnie?”

Honestly, he could melt every time you call him that.

“I’m back…” he chuckled slightly… “And I brought some sunshine with me…”

The minute he looked into your eyes, you smiled just a little. That was progress. He kissed your forehead as Felix looked you over. 

Felix is like your little brother, so the minute you saw him and he saw you, you both started crying. Han got off the bed knowing Lix would want to be with you for a bit, for both of your sakes. 

This gave Han and Bin time to talk out in the hall.

“How’re her contractions?” Bin asked.

“They’re slower but still strong. The doctor says that it’ll be strong for at least 5 to 10 hours.” Han reported.

“And you? How’re you doing?” Bin asked. He knows Han has anxiety, seeing all of this and being as strong as he’s been is not easy. 

“I’m… Out of all people, Bin.” Han shook his head. Han has known Chan the longest and he would’ve never expected him to do this. 

“I know”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him.” Han said.

“Nah… She needs me more than I need to beat him to a pulp… I don’t think he’ll be bothering her anymore though.” That’s at least what Bin hopes. Everything is so raw. A little over 8 hours before this you were at a restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary. Now everything was all wrong, a nightmare incarnate and no one can wake up from reality. 

“Hyung… She can’t go back to that house.” Han said as he took a deep breath.

“I know. All I know is that we'll do what she’s comfortable with.”

“Agreed…Bin?” Han asked.

“Yeah?”

“It should’ve been you with her. From the beginning.” Han looked to Bin, a look of understanding and empathy for Bin. Han could always see the way Bin looked at you when no one else was looking. Everything you said would be committed to his memory, even the smallest things like which brand of sesame oil you like best for your bulgogi marinade. 

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be here for her from now on.”

Han just smiled and both of them went back into the room. 

********************************************************************

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[wordstome]

Single Dad!König (Dream Daddy au)

(+ a bit of Ghost under the cut)

Thank you to everyone who indulged (said exactly what I asked them to say 😅) me.

Here’s the paragraph I wrote:

I imagine his heart sinking when Ava comes home sad and quiet, unwilling to look her dad in the eye. He recognizes what that means: that used to be him as a kid. His worst fears are confirmed when Ava admits she's being harassed by a boy at school, replaced by anger when Ava says her teachers simply shrugged and told her that boys will be boys, and has she considered that maybe he just has a crush on her? Needless to say, by the time König's walking out of that school, nobody will ever be hurting his little girl ever again. Honestly, one glimpse of Ava's dad by her classmates will keep her free from bullying for the rest of her life.

Now here’s a bit more about single dad König, namely, how he came to be a dad…and single :( Angst and death tw ahead (nothing graphic)

With Ghost, I said he would only have had Caden due to an accident, because of Simon’s previous trauma involving his family. He was firmly in the mindset that he would die in the field, he’s just not built for civilian life anymore, he's a danger to everyone who loves him. However, when Caden shows up at his doorstep, all he can think about is Tommy and his nephew Joseph when he looks at the boy. He probably does his best to get Caden sent to a different family member, but let’s suspend our disbelief that any responsible social worker would leave a kid with Simon “Ghost” Riley for a moment and say that the social worker is like “It’s you or the foster care system.” Realistically, Simon would probably be like “foster care is safer than living with me” but for the purposes of the AU, he took the kid in.

With König, he doesn’t have the same trauma/hangups regarding kids and family. He’s in the same boat as Simon: he’s a human weapon, and can’t function properly in civilian life. For König, his work is an outlet and keeps him stable. I’m gonna have to sit down and make a proper post about my König’s character (Alexander), but for my König, violence is a method of regulating his emotions and a way to manage his anxiety. Having power and being hyper competent in the field is key to his mental stability. However, I think he would be able to settle down, it would just take a very patient, special woman. (For the purposes of the AU his first partner is AFAB she/her.) Here’s where I start breaking hearts… 🤭

In Dream Daddy au, König considers his first wife the love of his life. She deeply understood him as a person and wasn’t afraid of him, even when he was socially awkward and intimidating. They were honestly kindred spirits: both of them had their neuroses and flaws, but instead of trying to fix each other or mold the other into some ideal partner, they accepted each other and thus were able to grow together. (And tbh they were already a match made in heaven anyway.) König’s wife never asked him to quit, and was completely ready to raise a child with him frequently being gone. She was a badass woman, and she really, really wanted to start a family with him, so they had Ava.

For three years, König was probably the happiest he’s been in a long time, and if you asked him he’d probably say it was the happiest time in his life. He was moving up the ranks at work, his mental health was in check, and he had a wife and adorable little daughter to go home to every leave. He started planning to transfer to a safer/more stable position, because as much as the military has done for him, he’s ready to step up as a father and a husband. Then he gets a call that changes his life forever, and suddenly he doesn’t get a choice anymore.

(I'm eternally sorry to the little fictional people I made up in my head because I entertained the idea of putting the Brooklyn 99 "Guess who got murdered!" gif here...)

One thing y'all need to know about my man Alexander is that he is the embodiment of "I am not meant for casual. I was born for soul-crushing devotion." His problem is that he never had devotion before his wife: he craved it like a starving man, and it engulfed him like water flowing into a basin when he got it. He had it for a handful of years (I'm thinking 6 but that's a flexible number), and now it's gone again. You know in movies when something horrible happens and they cut all the noise and there's just a high pitched ringing sound? That's König getting that phone call.

God. All I can imagine is König dropping everything and taking the next flight home. He’s in a daze, in a way that he’s never quite been before. His mind is finally quiet, but the emptiness is not peaceful. Then he finally sees his little girl, she runs into his arms, and the dam bursts. He just holds her and cries. He’s numb, a dead man walking throughout all the business that needs to be taken care of after his wife’s death. The only thing that brings him back to the land of the living is Ava. She’s so small, so sweet, and she doesn’t really understand what death means: all she knows is that her mama’s gone somewhere, and her dad is so, so sad all the time. She’s all that keeps him going, and the only reason he keeps himself alive.

By the time you come into his life, it’s been several years, but Ava is still a little girl. She doesn’t remember her mother at all except what König tells and shows her, because he’s determined to keep her memory alive. König’s been slowly rebuilding who he is as a person from whatever scraps are left. There’s a gaping hole inside him, and he’s reconstructed himself around the hole. In some ways he’s a totally new man, in other ways, he’s gone back to who he was before his wife came along. He’s bitter and angry at the way his life has treated him just as he was as a young man, but now he’s swallowed up by guilt and self loathing. He's gotten better at coping and functioning as the years have passed and life has continued on, but his grief has never really gone away.

(alexa, play "right where you left me" by taylor swift)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a stupid joke about white people names?

a group of friends and I (all 18+) were chatting, and one of them, Patty, mentioned how certain ethnic names have odd spellings that throw people off, or how some names might be spelled the familiar way but pronounced differently. that conversation eventually devolved to making jokes about obnoxious white people name, like adding 'eigh' instead of a 'y' or 'ie' etc, y'all know the meme. lakynn and other shit like that. I was under the assumption that, because we were now joking around about something similar but NOT ethnic names, the conversation topic changed.

so anyways, I made an edit of the woman with the sign and circling the weird spelling she was choosing, the blond pregnant woman wearing a blue shirt meme? I put one of the weird spellings we were talking about earlier in it, and we all had a good laugh bc imo it was genuinely funny at the time. for the record, I was not the only one making these jokes, but I was the only one who made a meme about it.

later on (like over a couple weeks, I think), we realize Patty hadn't messaged in the group for a while. I eventually find out through another friend, Greta, that Patty was super hurt by my joke about white people name spelling, saying that it was super rude and disrespectful to her and her (real, ethnic) name.

honestly, I saw where I fucked up and asked Greta if Patty was open to talking to me, as I wanted to properly apologize. I get that making a white people name joke after JUST talking about how ethnic names were disrespected was in bad taste, and I really do appreciate and value Patty as a friend. Greta then tells me that Patty refuses to talk to me, doesn't want an apology, and wants us to forget this ever happened.

I end up telling Greta that, while I regret what I said, it was hurtful that Patty, someone who I had a good relationship with previously, waited so long to say something and that I had to find out what happened through someone else. I've stated multiple times in this friend group that I'd want someone to call me out/in, rather than let me keep hurting people because of my ignorance. I always try to be receptive, and it hurt that Patty waited so long to talk to Greta to then tell me I fucked up so long after the initial conversation.

After all of this, I was pretty hurt too. not because Patty didn't decide to educate me, but because the relationship I thought we had was apparently flimsy enough that Patty would cut me off and give no chance for us to actually talk. it felt like a slap to the face, because we had known each other for years at that point, and this was the first incident between us. But then suddenly Patty was gone and refused to talk to me.

later on, after "dropping it" per Patty's request, I tried messaging them. not even to talk about what happened, but just to see how they were doing and try to rebuild our relationship. I simply got a message that Patty was busy with life and didn't have time to talk.

I realize that's a lot of information, but I guess my question actually is, AITA for trying to apologize for the stupid joke? For being hurt that I wasn't told anything until it was too late?

Other information: as far as I'm aware, I was the only one who Patty had an issue with after the joking conversation. Patty has continued to talk to other people in the group, but pointedly ignores me. I've tried a couple times to join a conversation that Patty was in, but they tend to go quiet after, so I gave up doing that and just try to keep my distance.

What are these acronyms?

[mizukitoyama-blr]

Oikawa x Reader: School Festival [a haikyuu one-shot]

Ok y'all, so my friends and I had an all-nighter where we write one-shots. The twist is, we each wrote down on different sticky notes a character, a plotline, and I think the third is a location. We did this a year ago and I forgot all about this, but I recently found it so I'm posting it here lol

I hope you enjoy.

1145 words

Story under the cut.

Being a foreign exchange student, experiencing life in Japan was a bit of a culture shock: different introductions, different eating customs, different school traditions. One school tradition you noted was that Japan had school festival days. For the past week, your class had been working on an idea and building the vision. Today was the final day where the booths would actually be open to people and you were kind of nervous. Why? Who knows. Maybe it was more excitement than nervousness.

Your class finished assembling the booth reasonably quickly, so you figured you’d find your friend Oikawa to see if his booth needed any help. It wasn’t long before you found his booth and he was waving you down. Oikawa was one of the first people to introduce himself to you. Of course, you now realize he was just trying to scope out the new girl considering his… following, but it ended up being a good friendship; mainly consisting of you helping Iwaizumi call him names and him being a weird flirt even though he’s pretty much a dork.

“Hi, Y/n! Couldn’t stay away for long, eh?” he asked, waving.

“No, actually I’m looking for your pretty friend. Hey, Iwa!” you responded jokingly, to which Oikawa feigned a sad pout. “How’s the booth coming along?”

“We're almost done. Just need to put up the last few banners,” Iwaizumi said.

“You may want to be careful, Y/n. As soon as we open, girls will swarm the area. You might get trampled and die,”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “What are you guys doing anyway?”

“Kissing booth,” Iwaizumi said boredly as the title banner was hung up. You turned your head to Oikawa,

“What?”

“It’s the perfect concept! There's no girl in the world that wouldn’t want to kiss me! Just think of the revenue,”

“I wouldn’t count on it if it’s gonna be you, Oikawa. How is this even allowed in a school setting?”

“It’s just on the cheek. He does have a big following of girls at this school. It’s not like we can use his brain to help our booth,”

“I guess that makes sense,”

“How mean! Everyone undermines my intelligence,”

“Oh yeah, how did your game go Saturday?”

“It was fine. We won, of course, but it just felt too easy. I need a challenge in my life. You should come to my next game! You can wear one of my jerseys,”

“Hmm, tempting, but I’ll pass. Volleyball isn’t really my thing. Well, if you’re pretty much done, I’m gonna head around to look at the other booths. See ya around!”

“Bye, Y/n~!”

*

Everything looked amazing and you were having a good amount of fun before someone grabbed your shoulders from behind, making you jump. “Ya ho~!”

“Gah! Oikawa you scared me! Why would you do that?” you exclaimed and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! I can take the abuse from Iwa, but from you, it’s just too much,”

“Sorry. I saw opportunity and couldn’t resist,”

“The abuse I endure for you. Do you wanna go do something together?”

“What about your booth?”

“I’m all kissed out and on break. Girls wear a lot of lip product,” he said while rubbing some gloss and balm off his cheek. “But anyways, let’s go get some food or something. I’m so hungry,”

“I saw a teriyaki booth somewhere. Wanna get some of that? You’re paying,”

“Don’t I always?” The two of you walked the booths, trying different foods and desserts. The games were pretty fun too! It was nice playing games that weren’t rigged. You were clowning on Oikawa a bit at how much he sucked at some of the games compared to you, though you're sure he’d thrown some of your matches together. As your escapade continued, you noticed some girls you passed had their hands pressed to their cheeks while pointing and gazing at Oikawa, undoubtedly gushing over how they kissed each other on the cheek.

“I don’t understand how you can manage all the female attention. I’d get too tired of having to interact that much,”

“It does get bothersome sometimes. I used to love it, but now I think I’d prefer to have only one girl's attention, you know?”

“Ah, the development of a teenage male. From boyhood to maturity. All ready to settle down,” suddenly you gasped dramatically, almost making Oikawa drop the snacks he had bought. “A Ferris wheel! How did they get a Ferris wheel here!?”

“Y/n, I don’t think I’d trust that. It looks a little old,”

“Old shmold! Let’s go on!” Without a moment to protest you were dragging Oikawa by the hand to the big ride. “Woah! I can see the field yard from here!”

“Y/n! Please don’t lean out the side like that. You’re gonna fall!”

“Oh, you mean like this?” you asked and leaned out,”

“Y/n!” he said, reaching for you.

“What? Are you scared” you asked, and started rocking the box. He grabbed you and forced you to sit still beside him, like a mother to her rambunctious child.

“You’ve lost your fun privileges. Sit still until the ride is over,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him. You wondered if rides were a fear of his or if it was just Ferris wheels. Either way, it was fun to be out like this. You guys only ever really interacted at school during classes or studying. “Hey, Y/n. I think you should rethink going to my next game. I think I’d play better if you were there,”

“Why would you need to play better? You already win don’t you?” by this time the wheel had stopped and it was time to get off. You left the ride with a ‘thank you’ to the person running it and continued on.

“It’s less about the winning and more about… Y/n, would you just listen for a sec?” he grabbed your hand and pulled you back nearer to him. You blinked twice, looking down at where his hand didn’t leave yours.

“Kawa?” he started running his thumb over your knuckles nervously, his eyebrows knitting together in conflict.

“I want to see you at my games. I don’t care if I win, I just want to see you wearing my jersey number at my games,”

“What do you…” this wasn’t… was it?

“Earlier, I was wondering if you were gonna show up to the kissing booth at some point today. But now I’m realizing I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because now it feels more genuine,” he looked up at you, into your eyes, it felt invasive, uncomfortable, but not altogether unwelcomed. “Y/n. Can I kiss you?”

“I…” but the decision was clear to you then. “Yes.”

Sure enough, you were at his next game, the number one displayed proudly on your back.

[something-ricked-this-way-comesx]

Dick Prime

Warnings: (18+ only minors DNI), NSFW, 5k word count, fem reader, self- insert OC character, daddy kink, p in v, rick prime with feelings, big dick Rick, degradation a bit, rough sex, praise kink, marking kink, choking, orgasms, cream-pie, fingering, nipple play, manhandling, calling him God, age gap I guess

Hi guys, this is an excerpt chapter from a Rick Sanchez fan fic I have been working on - thought I'd share a little taste on here and see if I could get any feedback. This chapter in particular follows my self-insert, Aurora as she is kidnapped by Rick Prime - enjoy :) If y'all would like me to post and share my other chapters pls reblog or comment 💜

----------------

 I woke up in a unfamiliar place٫ my head pounding viscously as my eyes struggled to adjust to the room around me. This place kind of looked like some sort of space motel room٫ but I couldn't remember a thing from the last 12 drunken hours of my life - I clearly needed to dial back my drinking or just not let Rick bet he can out drink me. I’ve never won that challenge. He really does have the hardest working liver in the universe, that's for damn sure. I wondered if he was feeling the same٫ but I doubted he was even remotely feeling hungover since he was used to getting black-out drunk on the regular. 

I flicked my wrist out٫ wanting to portal into Rick’s shoddy bedroom where I could crawl into his sad excuse of a bed (which was really just a small sized cot) with him so that he could hold me tightly while we slept. That plan was quickly cut as I noticed my portal bracelet was no longer on my wrist and it was no where to be found anywhere near me - what the fuck was going on?

Then I realized where I was - the realization smacking me hard in the face like a fucking freight train. The elaborate sci-fi technical patterns covering every square inch of this room should have been a dead give away from the second I laid eyes on it٫ but I was obviously still too inebriated to use my cognitive functions correctly. I was in what I was 95% sure was Rick Prime’s lair - that fucking cocksucker. How had he managed to find me? Much less find a way to lure me back to where he's been hiding this whole time.

As I was taking in every inch of the room in search of any kind of weapon, maybe even some sort of weird sci-fi button on a wall that I could press and magically find a way out of here under Prime’s nose, I suddenly heard a voice behind me٫ the sound striking me so hard I jumped.

“Great you’re awake٫ care to join me for breakfast?” Prime’s voice asked as he nonchalantly yet menacingly stood in the doorway of the room٫ his shoulder leaning up against the doorframe.

“Oh fuck you!” I spit٫ words coming out of my mouth coated in venom like I was a snake ready to strike.

“Like you have a choice. It’s funny that you thought you did. Let's get something straight٫ you’re mine now٫ so it's best you learn early that you WILL do as I say or there will be consequences.”

“What do you even want from me? Wasn’t killing Diane enough for you?”

“Of course it wasn't٫ but you're not here so I can kill you unfortunately. You’re here because do you know how rare you are?” He paused٫ walking forward into the room causing me to back up back onto the bed like a frightened little mouse. Damn, his presence was so intense. He started pacing a bit٫ back and forth٫ arms crossed across his chest as he did so. He turned to me and looked me directly into my eyes before he started speaking again.

“Every conceivable Rick in the universe would happily serve their own balls on a platter for a little taste of what you have to offer - this makes you especially interesting to me. Not only are you one sexy piece of ass٫ you are a Rick’s gateway to so much unlocked potential.”

“Excuse me?” 

“If ‘wife guy’ was smart he would have stolen your research from you a long time ago. Do you know how long it took for me to find you? It makes me horny just thinking about all that untapped knowledge you have floating around in that brain of yours.”

 “Anything my Rick wanted from me he got because he asked for it. Sorry٫ but I don’t barter for things I created especially not to a sci-fi douchebag like you.”

“No one said anything about bartering. I’m simply going to take what I need via brain scan and then you’re going to put out like a good little girl because when in Rome.”

“My Rick is going to kill you ya know? You’ve taken enough from him and he isn’t going to let you take me too.”

“I’ve avoided him this long and clearly he hasn't learned his lesson yet. I’ve recreated the omega device and this time it can fire more than once٫ I’ll wipe out his entire family line he comes anywhere close to me. I’d kill you too if you weren't so valuable - you should be lucky that a guy like me finds any interest in anyone but himself.”

“You might think that you have me right where you want me٫ but I’m gonna enjoy watching my Rick kill you when he finds you and if you’re lucky maybe we’ll have sex next to your corpse.” I said٫ my words carrying through the air like poison coursing through my vascular system.

It probably wasn’t in my best interest to be taunting Prime the way I was٫ but I refused to let this son of a bitch have it easy especially when it was his dumb ass decision to kidnap me. He knew my Rick was looking for him and he knew he was getting close hence why he even bothered making such an elaborate take on his own already ‘overkill’ device. All that brain and this motherfucker couldn’t grasp the fact that killing peoples’ loved ones doesn’t really warrant being left alone. 

“You think I couldn’t just take you right here if I wanted to? I’d bend you over that table and destroy that tight little pussy of yours and I just might considering you have no idea when to shut that bitch mouth of yours.” He grabbed me by the throat as he said that٫ squeezing the sides of my neck hard as he pulled me up and close to him. If I didn’t hate this Rick - I would have thought this interaction was so hot٫ too bad it was Prime.

“I’d like to see you try.” I said before spitting in his face٫ which in hindsight might have been a mistake٫ but it was too late to take it back.

Prime still had me by the neck٫ but he sighed heavily before shoving me onto the floor - catching myself on my hands before I hit the ground. 

“Don’t even bother trying to use any of your cybernetics - I put a lock on all of your tech and good luck putting up much of a fight without it.” 

---------- 2 weeks later —--------

   Over the few weeks that I had been here٫ regardless of how much of an asshole Prime was٫ no matter what it was that I needed or asked (within reason) for he was quick to give it to me. He didn’t appreciate any of my back talk and if I overstepped too far he did with hold things from me as a punishment٫ but for the most part it seemed like his intentions with me weren’t entirely evil - something I not only found puzzling٫ but very difficult to believe was actually genuine.

I pushed the limits of what he would allow a little bit further everyday٫ hoping to gain his trust so that I would be able to either escape or find someway to get a message to my Rick. I still wasn't exactly sure where we even were in relation to the universe - the curve - or maybe we were outside it? It was hard to know with the very little freedom within this elaborate sci-fi base that I was allowed. The most I could do while here was think - run through multiple plans and assess the probability of success rate to each plan I thought of. Most٫ if not every٫ plan I had managed to conjure up was far from impervious to any snags or complete failure given then sheer innate ability of Rick Prime to always somehow be 10 steps ahead. 

Today felt different though٫ I couldn't explain it٫ but as I sat across from him eating the breakfast that he had prepared for me - I could feel a different kind of tension in the air.

“Do you want to know why exactly you’re so special٫ Aurora?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me even if I say no, so why the hell not?”

I was pushing around my eggs with my fork now٫ waiting patiently for his response. He kept telling me how ‘rare’ and ‘special’ I was to his grand design٫ but no matter how often he brought this up (which felt like constantly)٫ he refused to tell me how and why. Until now that is٫ which also struck me as weird.

“In order for you to even exist at all٫ Diane had to die you know? You’re familiar with the big bang I assume?”

“Nah٫ I just have a PhD in Quantum Physics for absolutely no reason at all - in fact٫ I just printed it off the internet completely fabricated credentials.” I said٫ the sarcasm clear in my tone as I spoke - I ran the risk of him punishing me for doing so٫ but he was usually lenient with my sarcasm since it matched his overt cynicism. It was my sharp tongue for disrespect and foul insults that really got under his skin.

“Well when I created the omega device to wipe out Diane٫ I didn't think to solve for any kinds of ripple effect that it might cause.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Well not completely unlike the big bang - the destruction of Diane’s life across infinity somehow resulted in the cataclysm that created X-258.”

“You’re saying you're responsible for me even existing? How is that even possible? Rapid succession in an inflationary epoch?”

“Precisely - well said. This means that without my omega device٫ you wouldn’t exist. How do you think ‘'wife guy” is going to react when he finds out that I literally made his new slam piece?”

“If you’re even telling the truth٫ which I suppose it is possible therefore also equally not possible by association. I guess given the rightly distribution of a negligible density gradient in order to deter the collapse into just a black hole and taking into consideration cosmic acceleration - I can’t disprove your theory٫ but that doesn’t mean you aren’t just bullshitting me right now.”

“As much as I love bullshitting and torturing other Rick’s for my own amusement٫ this is as real as real gets Aurora. You are only here because Diane had to die. You’re welcome and I’ll be accepting all forms of payment as a thank you٫ especially sexual favors.” 

“Wow٫ so my whole life is a lie - imagine that.” 

“You don’t seem too deeply affected by this revelation?”

“Did you expect me to lose my mind over a random occurring cosmological event? There was no way you knew your elimination of Diane would result in the formation of a universe that randomly produced me - so you did something by accident which is literally how 80% of all scientific findings usually occur. You aren’t special or interesting just because you managed to create a random event in spacetime - I do appreciate your massive need to milk your ego about it though.” 

“Spoken like a true Rick - which you are as far as I’m concerned. The most intriguing out of any possible iteration.”

“So what exactly about that makes me so valuable to you?”

“Other than the fact that ‘'wife guy” loves you٫ according to my advanced research using your brain scans and blood and tissue samples٫ I should be able use both to develop the infinite Rick serum which would make me immortal. I’m not referencing no low grade cybernetic٫ tech bullshit either. I’m talking real٫ invincible immortality. An actual God with the power to create and destroy whatever and whoever I want - 100% unstoppable.”

“Wow٫ who could have possibly guessed that the power hungry evil٫ emo٫ sci-fi Rick with a nondescript haircut would want something so nuanced and lame? If you’re immortal that kind of takes away from the pay off does it not? Not that doing anything honorably is a concern of yours of course.”

“So what do you think about giving your input on something for me?”

“Once again - why bother even asking if you’re just going to make me do it anyways?”

“I guess to give you the illusion of free will or just maybe I kind of like you - don’t get a big head about it though I would still kill you without a second thought if I ever needed to.” 

“Okay what exactly am I giving my input on?”

“I feel it may be best to just show you - meet me in the lab after you’ve finished your breakfast. Don’t keep me waiting long, it won’t end well for you.”

I rolled my eyes at his threatening tone as he got up from the table and left the room, I don’t know why I was so attracted to Prime the way I was - especially after what he did to my Rick, but I came to the ultimate conclusion that it was because him and my Rick were indeed so similar. The two Rickest Ricks in all of the infinite number of Rick’s that existed - the only two Rick’s to actually invent portal travel. In a way, my Rick only existed the way he did because of Prime’s destruction of his simple, domestic life. Prime was literally just my Rick without any sense of moral obligation and no matter how much I tried to convince myself that this fucker was bad and that I needed to distance myself - I simply couldn’t. I felt like my dna was so entangled up in having love for Rick that despite Prime’s obvious evil, I still loved him for simply just being a version of Rick. How fucked was that? Jesus fucking Christ - I needed out of here and soon before I really fucked up.

I finished my breakfast and headed out of the kitchen and into Prime’s elaborate sci-fi laboratory - this guy never did anything subtle that was for fucking sure and his attention to detail was absolutely infallible. He had something pulled up on the screen above where he was sitting and the closer I got, the more my eyes focused on the image. It was an image of me with a younger Rick, my Rick and Birdperson when we were together as freedom fighters on Glap-Flaps Third Moon. The Battle of Blood Ridge - this image was obviously a snapshot taken from my mind when Prime brain scanned me, but I didn’t really understand its significance to him. But, I’m sure he was going to tell me even if I didn’t exactly care to know.

“Blood Ridge?” I questioned, my arms crossed across my chest as I approached his sitting form and stood beside him to wait for his response.

“Seems like Nietzsche wasn’t totally blowing smoke out of his ass when he said that whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster -”

“And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you. What does Nietzsche have to do with Blood Ridge?” I cut him off by finishing the Friedrich Nietzsche quote he was referring to.

“Well I’m so glad you asked Aurora…” He started as he pulled up a replay of Rick and I’s interaction with Birdperson after the Battle had been won. I watched the playback intently, hoping to see something within my own memory that maybe I hadn’t noticed before in order to try to put together a theory of where exactly Prime was going with this. 

-Playback from ‘Aurora’s Memory’ initiated-

Memory Rick: “Damn that shit was cash.”

Bird Person: “It was extremely bad ass. The Battle of Blood Ridge is over. The Federation lost. I am in your debt.”

Memory Rick: “Come with us.”

Bird Person: “To somewhere…nearby?”

Memory Rick: “Anywhere. E-Everywhere.”

Bird Person: “Rick, Aurora, I don't expect you guys to keep fighting, but this war is…”

Aurora: “Far from over…we know.”

Memory Rick: “Dude, we share this with almost nobody, but we could take you right now to this same battlefield, in a universe where we lost, or another where we won, or another where the war never even happened. All equally real, all equally unreal. None of it matters.”

Bird Person: “Then why did you help?”

Memory Rick: “Because I respect you. And I wanted you to know you could respect me.”

Bird Person: “Even though nothing matters?”

Memory Rick: “Okay. You matter... to me.”

Bird Person: “Uh, the relationship that we have…”

Memory Rick: “I NEVER used that word!”

Bird Person: “... is not worth my integrity…”

Memory Rick: “Oh, my God. It's not a complicated transaction, my man. "Would you like to join me doing awesome shit that matters?" "No, I would not. I would rather be a judgmental dork." Case closed. Really no need to drag it out.”

Bird Person: “If you need me, use the beacon.”

Memory Rick: “Yeah, I'm gonna use that beacon a lot. I hope... hope I don't wear it out. Come on Aurora, lets get the fuck out of here.”

—- Playback Finalized —--

“Okay, so what exactly does my memory of Bird Person rejecting my Rick have anything to do with you?”

“Seems allegorical in relation to how Diane died don’t you think? His rejection of me, Bird Person’s rejection of him, you either die a hero or see yourself live long enough to become the villain.” 

“Are you trying to suggest to me that my Rick has essentially turned into you? I hope you’re not because that would be absolutely nonsensical.”

“You see Aurora, your Rick isn’t all he’s cracked up to be either. He’s murdered hundreds if not thousands of innocent Ricks, he’s manipulated a version of our adult daughter to get a divorce, he sells weapons to hit men and other criminals, he Cronenberged my original dimension and left my daughter, my granddaughter and my Jerry behind to rot in a world that he ruined, he exploited and threatened to destroy a microverse that he created to control his fucking car, and the worst possible one he trapped all the people in his original reality into an endless mental time loop while their bodies still grew old. Your Rick isn’t and never was the saint you believe him to be - so why hate me for something so small in the grand scheme of things?”

“You’re literally the reason why he did most of that. I don’t think my Rick is a saint, I think he’s a sad, broken man who is trying his best to continue on in his life after losing the very thing he used to live for. What makes my Rick so different from you is his capability to feel and connect to human emotion - his wild callousness is just a front so he doesn’t have to feel the pain his life radiates. He has surpassed you in so many ways, but he will NEVER be the monster you are because he is capable of changing. You know nothing about him and even sitting here under the guise that you do is ridiculous. You will never be him and he will NEVER be you.”

“You’d defend him even if he was the one who killed your husband wouldn’t you?”

“My husband died because you killed Diane - because you accidentally created X-258 where my husband was killed in a freak fucking accident. To even insinuate such an asinine thought is in bad taste even for you. If anything, you’d be indirectly responsible for the death of my husband, big fucking shocker there.” 

“How would your husband feel if he knew you gave up on him to be with Rick?”

“My husband has been gone for 25 years, Prime and I loved him dearly when he was alive, but Rick, my Rick, is the love of my life. I don’t have to explain ‘love’ to you especially because you are literally incapable of ever fucking getting it. Killing your wife across infinity because some alternate versions of yourself pissed you off? The mother of your daughter - you have some fucking nerve.”

I was angry now, my words slicing into Prime’s direction like a knife and he was clearly getting upset with my tone towards him. I don’t know exactly what his end goal with me was - he had my blood and tissue samples, he had my brain scans. Why not just let me go or kill me if he got what he had said he wanted? Then it hit me. Prime was in love with me. A man that I had labeled as so incapable of feeling had some sort of feelings for me - what a fucking mind fuck that was to take in. I had made myself speechless as I waited patiently for him to say something to either confirm or deny my theory, but he said nothing so I spoke once more.

“You love me, don’t you? You have feelings for me.”

His silence after I said that was deafening and he quickly stood up from his place in his chair to grab my face in his hands roughly and smash his lips to mine. I knew it. He kissed me so roughly that I barely even had time to react, but once I was finally able to comprehend what was happening, I deepened the kiss. I was actually enjoying this despite how fucking wrong my moral compass knew that it was. He pulled away from me gently, his blue eyes looking me dead in mine before he said in a very demanding, yet hot, tone;

“Strip for me.”

And I did exactly as I was told.

—----------

 His hand bent around the curvature of my neck brushing it softly as he continued to walk around me٫ his other hand finding my breasts and taking a nipple into his free hand subtly. He rubbed the nub between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to eye me up and down with an obvious hunger in his eyes٫ his other hand snaking down my body slowly till it found rest on my hip gently pulling me to him as he did so. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered٫ his eyes glued to my chest as he spoke eloquently.

He was still fully clothed٫ but I was determined to change that - I reached forward and begun unzipping his jacket٫ him allowing it to fall to the floor as I pushed it off his shoulders. I found the hem of his long sleeve next٫ my hands creeping slowly underneath to touch his warm skin and my god his skin felt like I was touching pure electricity the more my fingers danced over his adorable blue happy trail to find a home on his belt buckle. I began undoing it roughly٫ pulling his belt through the loops in his jeans and throwing it elsewhere. I unbuttoned his jeans with my hands٫ quickly slipping my fingers under the waistband of his boxers where I longed to have his dick pressed up against any part of me.

I smirked up at him as I pulled him even closer to my naked body٫ his hands wrapping around me in all the right ways as I felt his extremely hard member pressing into one my thighs now. The length and the girth simply drove me insane as I continued to work diligently to undress him. He suddenly grabbed the back of my head with enough force to crash my lips to his٫ our lips melding together perfectly and I couldn’t help٫ but let out a small moan in favor of his wicked foreplay. The more he touched and teased me٫ the more I desperately wanted to beg him to just destroy me right there. I was so fucked. Fucking Prime. What was I doing? At this point I was too far gone to care - I wanted him and I wanted him BAD.

  I pushed his black jeans down past his jutted hip-bones٫ them falling down his tall stature to pool at his feet before he stepped out of them and led me back up against the wall. His fingers left my breasts٫ trailing down until they reached the very top of my mound - him allowing a single digit to pass between my folds to feel the abundance of wetness that I had increasing with each moment between my legs. 

“So wet for me already٫ such a horny girl for any Rick aren’t you?” He licked his lips as he pulled away from mine to speak٫ him looking me dead in the eyes as he said that - the lust obvious in his gorgeous icy blue eyes. 

“You have no idea how much I long for you to absolutely destroy me.” I whispered back٫ my fingers grappling the side of his boxers before pushing them off of him in one swift motion that now left him vulnerable and naked in front of me like I had been this entire time and ugh was it so worth the wait. 

Prime had so many scars littering his whole body٫ adding a sense of mystery and a hot toughness to his already sexy body. I felt guilty that I was about to do this٫ but he was still a Rick whether he was evil or not and holy fuck did his extreme callousness and his “I don’t give a single fuck” attitude turn me on even more. I was like putty in Prime’s hands right now and he was loving it. 

“I think I have a pretty good concept٫ but you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are. If I could٫ I would put you on display so that everyone could see me destroy a perfect little pussy like yours. Holy fuck.” 

“You want to fuck me in front of spectators?”

“I want them to revel in jealousy over how I get to be buried in a perfect little thing like you.”

“They should be jealous of me too٫ getting to be a good little cock sleeve for your perfect and massive cock. I love the way you feel pressed against my thigh right now٫ I almost can’t fucking take it.” I whispered in his ear٫ rolling my hips so that I brushed myself up against his rock hard penis - it almost jumping after me over the sudden sensation. 

“Mmm what a good girl٫ stroking daddy Prime’s ego. I think it's high time I reward you for such good and filthy behavior.” 

He grabbed me harshly by the hips and lifted me till I was straddling his waist with my back up against the wall as he placed himself at my entrance. He parted me gently with the head of his dick before slamming into me so aggressively that I cried out as I felt him ram into my cervix hard as he stroked my g-spot on the way there.

“Oh my god.” I panted٫ holding on to him with a death grip around his neck and my fingers tangling in his powder blue hair as he continued to thrust up into me skillfully. 

“That’s right darling٫ I am your god.” He said٫ his lips attacking my neck and jawline with an abundance of sloppy kisses - him using his teeth to mark me however he wanted. The sweet feeling of the slight pain driving me crazy as I held onto him tighter - slowly rocking my hips in tandem with his getting a small moan from him in return as I bounced on his cock dexterously.

“It’s like universe literally created you just for me٫ the way your pussy just grips the absolute fuck out of my dick. Fuuck Aurora٫ no fucking wonder why “wife guy” is so obsessed with you٫ you take dick like a fucking champ.” 

“It's not hard when Rick’s have such dynamite dick game - I’ve never ever been disappointed by a Rick sexually.” I purred٫ gripping tufts of his hair and pulling hard enough to hear him moan against my skin. 

“Is that so, mmm you were so worth the wait.”

“I want you to come in me so hard that you see fucking stars, baby.” I growled in his ear as he continued to fuck me hard up against the wall, one of arms on the side of me bracing himself and his other hand was wrapped around my neck holding me to the wall tightly. I hadn’t noticed before now, but his ‘6,5” frame had me up in the air so high, holy shit - I felt like I was practically floating off of the ground at this moment. Damn the sex was good. 

He soon moved his arm against the wall in order to place his long, lanky fingers on my clit, abusing the nub gently as he continued to go in and out of me. He was watching his dick as he pumped his hips, a smirk plastered on his handsome face as he was enjoying watching his dick disappear inside of me with each thrust. I was moaning loudly now, thankful that we were basically in the middle of nowhere in space because I could have probably awoken a whole cemetery.

“That’s it baby, come for me.”

I could feel that he was close and my eyesight was starting to get blurry the faster his fingers worked to bring me closer to my own climax. 

“Oh my god - Prime - I’m - ahhhhhh Rick.” I moaned out as he pushed me over the edge, my pussy pulsating around his dick as he also released into me, burying his face into my shoulder as we rode out the highs of our climaxes together. Both of us sweaty messes as we tried diligently to try and catch our breaths from that  absolutely intense workout we had just finished.

Fuck. I seriously just fucked Rick Prime. Fuck. 

What had I done?

If you enjoyed this please give the full fan fiction a read - UPDATES EVERY WEEK - 💚

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[evilhagspage]

setting: Supernatural, after the events of season 1×16. i didn't put a whole lot of exposition in there so just know sammy baby got hurt :*(

pairing: sam winchester x reader. use of y/n and she/her pronouns. written in first person.

warnings: cleaning each other's wounds cuz i'm a WHORE. swearing. absolutely sickening disgusting fluff. mutual pining but they don't know it's mutual yet.

legitimately one single person liked my post where i asked if y'all wanted to see it so enjoy!

It seems like we drove all night before Dean decided it was safe enough to stop. After everything with Meg and her shadow demons, and John, we were all pretty spooked. We finally pulled into a motel in the middle of nowhere. I was just grateful to have a second of rest.

We got in and settled, and Dean decided to take the first shower, neglecting any help cleaning his wounds. Sam sat down on our shared bed, a habit we created in our childhoods. We always reasoned it away, it was cheaper to get one room, I hate cots, both the boys are way too tall to fit on a couch, etc. In reality....well, who's to say. I can't speak for Sam's feelings.

As he sat down to take off his boots, he winces in pain. I stop rooting through my bag to look over at him. "Do you need some help?" I ask, trying to remain nonchalant.

"No, I can manage...ach!" the end of his sentence punctuated with another hiss in pain as he goes to reach for his boot again. I drop my things and immediately reach over to help him.

"Here, here, let me," I reply softly, dropping down on my knees in front of him to take his boots the rest of the way off. I keep my eyes on my task, mostly to mask the effect that being on my knees in from of Sam has on me.

"Y-you really don't have to," he tells me, and he sounds...almost...breathless? It must be from the pain, I reason.

"I know," I say, daring to look up at him. Our eyes lock and I can feel heat flushing to my cheeks. Why does he have to be so handsome all the time? Having finished the task at hand, I quickly stand up and place his boots by the door of the motel room. I stop at Dean's duffel bag that he discarded by the door and shuffle through it to find the first aid kit. I make my way back over to the bed, and sit down next to Sam to rustle through the box. "So, are you gonna let me help you clean up? Or is that gonna hurt your macho ego?" I tease, trying to cut the tension in the air.

He chuckles, before sighing, "Do I really have a choice?"

"Nope!" I shoot over my shoulder as I leave to fill a cup with warm water. I take my place back on the bed, dipping a washrag into the water, and turn to Sam. "Hold this, please," I ask while handing him the cup. "Yes, ma'am," he teases. I slowly cup his chin as I start to gently wipe the deep claw marks on his cheek. He hisses through his teeth when I press too hard, his hand shooting out to grab my knee for support. I quickly pull my hand away and murmur a 'sorry', too preoccupied with the warmth of his hand on my leg. "It's okay," he whispers back.

"I'm gonna keep going, okay?" He nods in consent, and I continue to clean the dried blood and dirt from his gorgeous, defined face. 'focus, please' I silently plead to myself. "So, uh, listen. I'm really sorry about John...er your dad," I tell him. I've known the Winchesters for what feels like forever...John became like a second father to me.

"It's okay, I guess. I mean, I don't think we should have let him go," he admits.

"Yeah, I mean y'all spent so much time looking for him. And to finally feel some peace about the whole college situation...sorry, I'm sure that's not helpful to think about," my brows pulled in the middle as I silently chastised myself.

"No, no it's okay. It honestly helps to talk about it." He turns his face towards me as I set the rag down and reach for some sort of healing salve. My cheeks once again flush with heat under his gaze.

"I'm glad, Sam." I summon the courage to meet his eyes, and rest my hand atop his, still on my knee. Totally platonic, right? I turn back, having found some petroleum jelly packets. I move his face back to look foward gently, then begin smoothing it over his scratches. Thankfully, they don't look *as* bad with all of the excess blood gone. I notice that Sam's hand is now absent mindedly stroking half circles on my knee. It takes everything in me not to shiver. I clear my throat before asking, "Did you need to talk about anything else?"

"Well, I wanted to thank you." I quirk a brow up with faux scepticism. He chuckles atthis, watching me in his peripheral vision. "Seriously. I mean, you've always been there for me...and Dean. You were my first friend that wasn't Dean. You're just so selfless. It seems like no matter what, you're willing to drop everything and help us."

My heart warms at his words. "You're welcome, Sammy. I care about you--and your brother. It's never really even a question...I want to be here for y'all," I reply honestly.

Sam's face suddenly sombers in thought as I set the emptied packets with the rag, taking his hand in both of mine. I look up at him inquisitively.

"Y/n, I also wanted to apologize. It wasn't just my family I shut out when I was at Stanford. I know I hurt you." I let out a big sigh as he says this, because he's not wrong. It did hurt when he suddenly iced me out. Stopped returning my calls, our emails. Before then, I had never gone more than a week without hearing from at least one of the Winchester boys. I begin to shake my head and forgive him, but he interrupts me by saying, "I'm serious. It was shitty, and you didn't deserve it. You always supported me, always encouraged me to follow my dreams. I'm really, really sorry."

My brows pull up in the middle at his sincerity. "Oh, Sam. I forgive you. I forgave you the moment I saw you again. It's really hard for me to stay mad at you," I reply honestly. "Dean on the other hand...I can hold a grudge on him forever." I finish with a chuckle at my own joke, also to expell some of the nervous energy I've been harboring since being so close to Sam...so intimate.

A cry from the bathroom interrupts us, Dean clearly having heard me after being done with his shower. "Hey!" he yells, whipping the door open, expelling all of the steam into the common room. "I am a perfect angel, thank you," he scolds me with pretend anger.

"Please," Sam teases back. I turn back to grab an extra petroleum jelly packet and toss it as Dean. "Here," I say as he catches it smoothly. "It should help the scratches on your face." He looks it over before shrugging and squeezing some onto his finger. I look down at Sam, asking, "I'm gonna take a shower, if you don't mind having the last one?"

"Oh, not at all, go ahead," he replies.

***

When I finish my shower, Dean is already snoring under the covers, and Sam is watching some old reruns on TV. Looks like, yup, Jeopardy. God, he's so cute. I place my dirty clothes in the designated laundry bag, missing Sam's eyes on me and my "skimpy" pj's (one of dean's old shirts and shorts). I get comfortable under the covers...next to Sam. He looks down at me as I snuggle into the blanket and hum contentedly. As I gaze up at him a sudden wave of affection hits me. "Hey," I whisper, "I wanted to thank you for what you said earlier. It...means a lot to hear how y'all think of me. I know I seem like this self-assured-patented-confident girl, but, it never hurts to hear you friends say they love you."

"Did I say 'I love you?' I-I don't remember saying that..." his face splits into a shit-eating grin as he laughs at his own joke.

"Shut up," I giggle and push his shoulder.

"I do, by the way," he admits after a comfortable silence.

"Hm?" I ask, looking up at him with a furrowed brow.

"I do love you, Y/n," he replies nonchalantly.

"I love you too, Sammy," I give him a brief smile before turning my attention back to the TV, hoping to hide the melancholy I feel. I have no doubt that he loves me...it's just not the way I wish he did.

He rolls over and out of the bed, rounding to my side to rifle through his bag. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, 'kay?"

"Okay! Can't promise I'll be awake when you get back," I reply shooting him a smirk. He smiles back at me, toiletries in hand as he enters the bathroom. A few moments later, I hear the shower turn on and let it lull me into sleep, dreaming of soft mornings waking up in Sam's arms.

***

Sam exits the bathroom to find Y/n asleep, totally sprawled out on the bed. He chuckles to himself, thinking 'she's so cute...relax Sam. You gotta relax if you're gonna share a bed with her.' After he sets down his things, he slides into bed, trying not to disturb her. She rustles in her sleep, absentmindedly wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it doesn't have Sam's heart beating out of his chest. He tentatively wraps his own arm around her shoulder, lightly stroking down her arm. She nuzzles her face onto his chest, and he lets himself enjoy it. Savor it. The repetitive motion of his hand on her arm and the weight of her head on his chest have him falling asleep in record time.

***

The next morning, Dean wakes up first to Sam and Y/n still entangled. This time, Y/n's leg is hitched up around Sam's hips, her hand resting on his chest and her mouth open, drooling all over his shirt. Sam, on the other hand, has both of his arms wrapped around her, his head thrust back and snoring, loudly. 'It's a miracle she can sleep through that,' Dean thinks as he pulls out his phone to snap a picture. He giggles to himself, reviewing the photo. He is totally gonna use this for black mail. Or at their wedding. One of the two.

[ketsukane]

Undertale Yellow - Comments/Spoilers

howdy, y'all. i've still yet to complete the game, but i wanted to yap about what i know so far, and some concepts that stuck out to me.

read under the cut ONLY if you wish to read spoilers for uty.

thoughts and feelings about ceroba

okay, so my opinion on ceroba as a character has drastically changed from when i first encountered her to now. at first, i assumed her to fulfil the "voice of reason" role in contrast to starlo's chaotic and reckless behavior. after completing the steamworks and finding chujin's tapes, however, it is clear that ceroba was only acting calm, collected and friendly to gain the trust of clover. her ultimate goal was to lure clover so that she could "complete" chujin's work.

ceroba is clearly morally corrupt. we can see this in the dialogue before her pacifist fight, when she states that she is "too far gone" and only wishes to complete her husband's work, without much regard to the safety of her daughter (as she caused kanako's poor condition with the serum, against chujin's wishes.)

my question is, why couldn't she have found another boss monster to take the serum? why did it have to be her daughter, especially when her deceased husband (who she clearly wishes to honor) explicitly told her not to use it on kanako?

the only answer that i can muster is that she was so terrified when the previous human, integrity, attacked kanako's friend, that she panicked and used it on kanako in order to prevent the next human from potentially attacking and killing kanako. (aside: i wonder what led integrity to attack in the first place? perhaps she felt threatened by the monster children? it's not like she was evil like chara; dalv was implied to have befriended integrity, so she couldn't have been hostile. anyway...)

the bottom line is, i think ceroba is batshit crazy and it's kind of sad because originally, i liked her, and felt so differently about the kind of character she was.

the incident with axis

finding the secret tape behind chujin's grave was certainly an experience, one that makes sense in comparison with undertale itself. in the tape, chujin explains that axis brutally murdered integrity after she attacked kanako's friend. chujin states that he hid any evidence of the attack (shown on the map of souls, in which integrity is represented by a question mark) and reprogrammed axis (so it must've been really brutal.) this checks out with the original game's storyline, as integrity's items (the ballet shoes and tutu) are hidden within waterfall area.

i do wonder why chujin felt it necessary to hide the evidence of the attack, though. isn't it the goal to kill and harvest the souls of humans? wouldn't he have been renowned for his duties? my guess is that he wanted to keep it a secret as to 1.) not worry the public that humans are posing a significant threat to the underground, and 2.) take integrity's soul for the progression of his experiment.

anyway, those are just some thoughts. i haven't beaten ceroba's pacifist fight yet, so these are just ideas and speculations about the storyline that i am not fully caught up to yet. hope it was a good read, and if i was seriously wrong about something, let me know!

[mayday-jd]

alr I lied I gotta talk about smth else quickly

• so remember when I mentioned branch's reaction to the country song when they entered lonesome flats??

yeah now let's talk about how poppy reacted

poppy hears the song then concludes that the country trolls are miserable and don't know how to have fun

and what better way to make them have fun?? force them to listen to pop music.

cough cough barb parallels COUGH

ofc that doesn't work the country trolls are appalled by their pop medley

all of them... except for hickory

I think poppy was drawn to hickory because he was the only one that seemed to along with what she had to say without any complaints basically he said what she wanted to hear so she trusted him wholeheartedly

now let's actually get into my favorite part of this movie

• I LOVE THE FUNK TROLLS HOLY FUCKING SHIT

I don't think you need a genius to figure out that these are black folks LIKE LOOK AT THEM AND LISTEN TO THE QUEEN ESSENCE

guys the vas of the royal funk family are all black. ik maybe doesn't mean anything BUT MAYBE IT DOES ALR

anyways no matter what race the funk trolls may be they still play such an important role in this movie and let me tell y'all why and how

thru their encounter with the funk trolls, our pop trolls duo (yeah biggie left) learn three important things :

- differences do matter, they're a part of our identity and it would be wrong to ignore them

- even with those differences and origins, trolls still can be multiple/different things (ex.: cooper who says that he's pop AND funk, prince d who identifies as a hip pop troll which is not on poppy's outdated ass map)

- yeah that story poppy heard from the pop trolls' perspective?? yeah no that's not how it actually happened

explained beautifully by anderson .paak's song, the pop trolls stole all the strings, used them to make their kind of music and cut out the other trolls from the music scene

in the words of prince d

"That's just the story cut out and glued by the winners"

AND YES THAT'S HISTORY FOR YA

different retellings, stories of what happened from another pov because guess which perspective you read from the history books?? the winners.

poppy hears all this and y'all idk if it's because poppy's voiced by anna kendrick but this is where all I could think about of was white saviour complex

because this girl is still all about uniting all trolls so they'll live in harmony and yes it comes from a good place but she's just not getting it and fucking hell 😭

she does get the message at the end of the movie after finally meeting barb and speaking of her....

• barb is awful and that's what makes her a great character

as we all know barb's plan is so "unite" all troll nations under the rule of hard rock which is not uniting that's just assimilation

where poppy's desire for every troll to live together in harmony all united by music, barb's comes from a sense of superiority and maybe even pity

evident by every moment she steals a string, barb comments on the other trolls' music with insults which justifies why their music isn't real music while hers is

what's funny is that barb and poppy are very similar

they both really want to prove themselves as good queens, they desire for all trolls to be united and, even if poppy won't admit it, they both see their music as superior tho that degree of superiority is very different

where the similarities end are that barb doesn't want everyone around her to say what she wants to hear, she wants ppl to be real to her, meanwhile poppy refuses to hear anyone else's voice because it's different from hers

which leads to another difference between the two, poppy learns to listen to others because

"A real queen listens." (both said by her and branch)

now let's talk about that finale shall we??

[justabigassnerd]

The Perfect Gift

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 3,144

Warnings - mentions of Goose & Carole so a smidge of angst but mostly wholesome Christmas fluff!!

Song - The Perfect Gift by Joshua Bassett

Summary - Rooster is determined to make this the perfect Christmas ever. Only problem? He can't find the perfect gift

A/N - Happy Christmas y'all! I rise from the dead once more to provide a Christmas fic for y'all! I love this song so much it's definitely one of my top Christmas songs and it's definitely a song that could work with Rooster. Anyways I'll stop rambling and let y'all get on and read. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

In the run-up to Christmas, Rooster had been worrying his ass off about what to get you. You’d been together a couple of years now and he was beginning to run out of ideas on what to get you, especially because you didn’t show much interest in anything. Despite it not being your first Christmas together, he still wanted it to be perfect. He even enlisted the help of your dad, Maverick in finding a gift, dragging him around countless malls and shops to try and find the perfect gift for you. It was the first Christmas since Rooster had allowed Maverick back into his life since cutting him out when he pulled his application to the naval academy so Rooster wanted to utilise having Maverick around and recruited him to help him hunt for presents since he knew Hangman would’ve rather done two hundred push-ups than help Rooster with his dilemma.

“Bradley, you know she doesn’t care about what you get her. Christmas is special because you’re getting to spend time together. She cares more about getting to spend time with you than any gift.” Maverick had said as Rooster dragged him into yet another jewellery shop to look at what they had to offer.

“I care about that too. But I want this to be perfect. I love her so much and I don’t know what to get her when she’s already the perfect gift.” Rooster said, and the second those words left his mouth his eyes widened, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

“I got it! Okay, I’ve just had the best idea I got some work to do. But I need you to help me out.” Rooster says quickly, gesturing for Maverick to follow him and as the two men walked out of the shop, Rooster began to explain his plan.

When it came to Christmas, Rooster’s gift for you was finally complete but as it reached Christmas Eve, he began to second guess himself and began to wonder if you’d like the gift or not. He constantly put himself under a lot of pressure and you always reassured him that you’d love it no matter what.

“Bradley, honey, you could get me an empty box and I’d still love it because it was from you.” You said sweetly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, helping him to calm down enough to lie beside you in your shared bed as you snuggle into his side. As you always did, you rested your head on his chest and found yourself being lulled to sleep by Rooster’s steady heartbeat while his hand made its way to your head, messing with your hair and helping to drive you closer to sleep. However, despite how much sleep had taken a hold of you, you managed to mutter out one last ‘I love you’ before giving in to the clutches of sleep as a smile made its way across Rooster’s face.

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

The next morning, Rooster was awoken by you nuzzling closer to him for warmth as the duvet clearly did very little to provide you with warmth and Rooster, as always, accepted the opportunity for more cuddles, especially on Christmas morning. Rooster smiled to himself as you cuddled as close as humanly possible to him, you’d always said that Rooster was your own personal heater, and he never doubted your words for a second since more often than not he’d wake up with you half on top of him trying to maintain warmth. But you’d never catch him complaining about it. He wrapped both his arms around you and embraced you fully, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you begin to stir slightly. You clung tighter to him as you began to blink your eyes open, squinting at the light at first before your eyes adapted. Once you had woken up you looked up at Rooster, a tired yet happy smile on your face.

“Good morning baby.” You whisper as Rooster leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips in greeting.

“Good morning, and Merry Christmas.” Rooster replies once the two of you have parted for air.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You say with a smile before attempting to get up only to be stopped by Rooster’s strong arms tightening around you and pulling you back into his side as you laugh.

“Bradley, we have to get up.” You manage to say through your laughter as Rooster buries his face in your shoulder and tugs the duvet right up to your shoulders.

“Nope. It’s Christmas so I think we deserve some cuddles in bed if you ask me.” He mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt as he moves to pepper kisses along your neck and jawline.

“Okay, we can cuddle for a bit, but we do have to be at dad and Penny’s for lunch like we promised.” You say, giving in to your boyfriend’s request almost instantly.

“You mean you promised Mav we’d be there.” Rooster retorts jokingly as you roll your eyes in response.

“It’s the first Christmas since you two made up. Christmas doesn’t need to be split up anymore because my boyfriend refuses to be within five feet of my dad.” You say with a raised eyebrow as Rooster pulls away slightly, sitting up and avoiding your eyes out of embarrassment.

“Oh, Bradley I’m sorry that was a bad joke. I’m over the moon that you and dad are getting along, really, I am. It makes me so happy you two are getting on. It means I don’t have to spend time with one or the other on days like this. I get to be with both of you.” You say, sitting up, cupping Rooster’s face gently, and lifting it so his eyes meet yours.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologise once more, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry too. My anger towards Mav put you in a bad situation. And I’m so sorry for it.” Rooster then apologises, making you lean further into him, so your lips connect.

“You don’t need to apologise. I understand. How about we both stop apologising and cuddle for a bit more before getting up, hmm?” You offer, watching as a smile crosses your boyfriend’s beautiful face once more before wrapping his arms around you and flopping back against the mattress with you laying atop his chest as you both laugh. The two of you lie in bed, enjoying each other’s embrace for a few minutes before you decide it’s time you should get up and start the day. You get up first as Rooster pouts, with you pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m going for a shower. I won’t be gone forever, pretty boy.” You say before disappearing into the bathroom and the familiar sound of the shower running starts as Rooster lies in bed, going over how the gift he has could go down with you. He tries to keep his mind from running by focusing on the humming he hears coming from the bathroom and takes some deep breaths. Before he knew it, you had emerged from the bathroom, allowing him to get showered while you got changed. When he’d finished his shower and got changed, he joined you downstairs where you were pouring both him and yourself a cup of coffee as well as preparing breakfast. Rooster helped to finish breakfast which the two of you ate before taking your coffee cups into the living room where the Christmas tree was sat waiting with gifts underneath from each other and your fellow aviators. You decided to open the gifts from Dagger Squad first, laughing to each other when Rooster continually unwrapped more and more Hawaiian shirts to add to his never-ending collection of them. You unwrapped a variety of different items from each aviator and the two of you sent a message to each of your friends thanking them for their gifts before you move on to gifts from each other. You got Rooster a few different gifts, some of his favourite aftershave, and a new book of sheet music to play on the piano. But your final gift was a special one. You gave Rooster a Hawaiian shirt that was a carbon copy of the one his dad used to wear. You knew his original one had gotten lost in a move and Rooster had been beyond devastated so you spoke with your dad, who found a picture of Goose with his bright blue Hawaiian shirt on and the two of you were able to track down a similar shirt.

When it came to Rooster’s turn, he was sweating buckets when he handed you the first couple of gifts. He and Mav had been able to track down a few small things you’d like before he got to the main present. He got you perfume and a new pair of earrings before he told you to close your eyes so he could run upstairs to grab something. When you opened your eyes at his request you saw him sat in front of you with his guitar in hand.

“I’m going to be honest. Getting you something this year was the hardest it’s ever been because I wanted everything to be so perfect for you and so I kind of wrote a song because how could I find a perfect gift when the perfect gift is you?” Rooster says, making you smile widely as he begins to strum on his guitar and sing.

As Rooster began to sing, every lyric of his song brought memories of your relationship into your head. The first kiss the two of you shared under the night sky after Rooster took you out on a date. Holding Rooster as he sobbed when he found out your dad pulled his papers. He was initially angry at you too until you managed to calm him down and convince him of your innocence. You remembered being there by his side as your dad walked into the room the day of your first training session for the uranium mission, holding his hand to soothe him as your dad took over from Cyclone. You remembered every little detail about Bradley Bradshaw that you loved. The scars on his face that you loved to kiss. His sandy-coloured hair that you loved to run your hands through. His gorgeous singing voice that could overpower every patron of the Hard Deck when singing ‘Great Balls of Fire’. How he was the most badass aviator but was the sweetest guy when the two of you were at home. How he made you feel loved and protected. He was your best friend, and you were grateful you were able to love a man like Bradley Bradshaw.

When he finished his song, you wiped the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen down your cheeks and clapped as Rooster gave you a sheepish smile before putting his guitar to the side just in time for you to launch into his arms for a hug and a kiss.

“Did you like it?” He asks nervously when you pull away.

“Was the fact I tackled you into a hug and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow not a good enough answer? I loved it, baby.” You say, wiping the remainder of your tears before moving to sit opposite Rooster.

“I’m glad you liked it. You actually have one more present. I put it in the tree.” Rooster says as you stand up from where you were sat on the floor and start searching the tree but not seeing any sign of the present he’s talking about.

“Bradley I can’t see anything. What’s this all about?” You say, eyes still scouring the tree until your eyes land on a piece of paper nestled in amongst the pine needles. You grab it and open it carefully seeing the words ‘turn around’ written on it and you do as the paper says, folding it back up to ask Rooster what was going on before you gasped, dropping the paper at the sight before you. Rooster was on one knee with a small velvet box in his hands, a gorgeous ring settled inside as more happy tears began to well in your eyes.

“y/n Mitchell. You’ve been my best friend my whole life and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to get to call you, my girlfriend. But I’d be even luckier if I got to call you, my wife. You’ve been with me through thick and thin and there’s no one else on this world I can imagine spending the rest of my life with other than you. Will you marry me?” He asks, making you nod repeatedly before words were finally able to escape your mouth.

“Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” You exclaim happily as Rooster stands up to pull you into an embrace hugging you tightly before your lips crash with his. Both of you were smiling too much so the kiss became two smiles pressed together but you were both so happy you couldn’t stop smiling. When you pulled away, Rooster took your left hand in his own and slipped the ring on your finger, grinning. You stared at the ring in awe before a spark of realisation overcame you.

“Is this… your mum's ring?” You ask cautiously, remembering when you were younger, and you’d see this ring shining on Carole’s hand. That and her wedding ring being a way to keep Goose with her.

“Yeah. She gave it to me before she died. She said to use it when I met the right girl. But between you and me I think she wanted it to be you from the get-go.” Rooster admits, both of you smiling as you look back at the ring. You knew that Goose and Carole were watching over their son and that they were probably cheering like they were watching a football game when he proposed.

“We should probably head to Mav’s, huh? Tell him the good news?” Rooster then says, smiling knowingly as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Something tells me you and dad were in on this together?” You ask as you grab the gifts for your dad, Penny, and Amelia before putting on your shoes and heading out to the Bronco.

“I did most of the work. He just gave me his permission to propose to you.” Rooster says as he climbs into the car, starting the engine and beginning the drive to your dad’s house. When you arrive you and Rooster grab the gifts and knock on the door to be greeted by your dad who throws the door open.

“I take it from the fact that the two of you arrived together everything went well?” Your dad asks, looking over at Rooster as he nods, lifting your connected hands and showing the ring glistening on your finger.

“Congratulations you two. I couldn’t be happier.” Your dad then says, bringing you into the house before engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Thank you, dad.” You whisper as he hugs you tighter.

“I’m so happy for you sweetheart. You deserve the best and Bradley is the only man I trust to provide you with nothing but the best.” He replies, making you laugh lightly against his shoulder before you pull away.

“Come on. Let’s tell Penny and Amelia the good news.” Rooster then says, gathering up the presents you had put down so you could hug Maverick and heading into the living room to join the two.

"We heard you in the hall. Congratulations you two!" Penny says happily as Amelia grins.

“There goes the surprise then. Merry Christmas you two.” You and Rooster greet as you settle down on the sofa, handing each gift to their respective person and watching as they unwrap them. When the gifts have been exchanged Penny and Amelia turn to you.

“Let us see the ring, y/n.” Amelia all but begs, both of them leaning closer when you extend your hand towards them so they could get a closer look at the ring.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, y/n.” Penny gushes, admiring the ring as Rooster winds his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Not as gorgeous as her.” Rooster shamelessly flirts as Amelia groans and Maverick slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

“And just for that disgustingly cute comment. You’re on dinner duty with me. Come on in the kitchen.” He says, gesturing for Rooster to follow him into the kitchen while you stay in the living room with Penny and Amelia to have a catch-up.

“She’s lucky to have you, you know.” Maverick’s voice cuts through the quietly playing Christmas music in the kitchen as Rooster looks up from where he was peeling potatoes.

“I’m the lucky one.” Rooster replies with a laugh as he hears you telling the two in the living room how the proposal happened.

“Goose and Carole always had a bet going that you two would end up together. I was against it because I hated the thought of my little girl dating anyone, but I was very wrong. There’s no one better for her than you.” Maverick then says, memories of his old friends coming to the surface as he remembers him and Goose watching the two of you one day as you toddled around on the beach when Goose made the offhand comment that he was sure the two of you would end up together in your future.

“I miss them so much. I just wish they could be here.” Rooster manages to say after a brief silence. Thinking about how much he wants his parents to see him get married to the woman he loves most in the world.

“I miss them too, kid. But I know they are so proud of you. You were their world Bradley, so I know they’ve been cheering you on every step of your journey. I want them to be at your wedding just as much as you do but I know they’ll be there in spirit. They’re still with us.” Maverick says, turning to face the man soon to become his son-in-law. Rooster nods at his words with misty eyes and Maverick wastes no time bringing him into a hug which Rooster welcomes. When he pulled away, he thanked Maverick quietly and wiped his eyes of any potential tears before hearing your laughter coming from the other room, which brought a smile to his face. He was already so excited about getting to call you, his fiancée. But what he couldn’t wait for was to be able to introduce you to people as Mrs Bradshaw. His wife.

[fandoms-writings]

EVENT CLOSED

Those of you wanting to submit a story for the writing challenge at the end of this post, I'm accepting submissions until the end of the year. I'm a slow writer myself and I want y'all to have as much time as you need to join in <3

Welcome to my neon milestone party!

It’s been a few months since I last did a celebration or writing challenge so why not kick off summer with both! I also hit another small milestone, so thank you so so much to all of you for your support 🤍

You must be 18+ to follow me, so you must be 18+ to participate!

We’re gonna have a summer long sleepover, mood boards, a writing challenge, and my requests are officially open for drabbles! 

The cut off is the last day in August!

Under the cut you’ll find all of the ask games and prompt lists and challenge rules! 

Have fun babes  🤍

💎 Rare gems

- Show some love to your fav fics and their authors by sending in some recommendations!

🗒 Ask the Author

- Ask me anything you want about something I’ve written!

📖 Book talk

- Tell me about your favorite book or what you’ve recently read, and why you enjoy it (or why you don’t)

🤫 Secret admirers

- Anonymously (or not) send a love letter to your favorite tumblr person!

🎶 Karaoke

- Send a song recommendation or I’ll put my liked songs on shuffle and send you which one played first!

🫘 Spill the Beans!

- Anonymously (or not) tell me a secret of yours.

🔍 Clue!

- Send me this emoji and I'll post a wip clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and you guys get to guess what it's about. 

🎩 Top 5!

- Another classic. Send me a category, and I'll tell you my top 5 choices within it. 

🙅🏻‍♀️ Never Have I Ever

- This one's pretty self explanatory I think. 

💌 Love letters (mutuals only) 

- I’ll write you a love letter 🥺

🎰 - Spin the Lottery! (mutuals only)

- send me a lil snippet about you (a hobby, your job, your music taste, etc) and a fandom (or not) I’ll pair you with a character from that fandom🤍

Send me a little something - a song, a character, a trope, a quote - anything to give me an idea, and I’ll make a mood board for you 🤍

If you need one for a story even! I’ll gladly help out 🤍

My requests are open for drabbles! Send me a character (it can be from one of my AUs! or not)  and one or two of the prompts from the list below, and I’ll whip up something small for you! As they get requested, they will be crossed off the list 🤍

Angst: 

"Don't go where I can't follow. . . I thought I lost you." (1/2)

"Why didn't you say how bad it was?"  (2/2)

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself."  (1/2)

"You're a mess"/"I'm not a mess."/"I can tell you've been crying."  (1/2)

"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right."  (2/2)

"What are we doing?"/"Why are you doing this?"  (1/2)

"I know you, how else do you think I found you so easily?"   (1/2)

"Choose me."  (2/2)

Fluff:

"You know my door is always open for you, right?"  (2/2)

"Will you taste this? Tell me if I'm missing anything?"  (1/2)

"Let me kiss it better."  (2/2)

"You're exhausted honey. Go back to sleep."  (1/2)

"Can I hold your hand?"  (2/2)

“Is that my shirt?” (2/2)

"Come get me? I miss you."  (2/2)

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."  (2/2)

Smut:

"stop staring." / "i can't, you're so pretty like this" (2/2)

"Keep your pretty eyes on me."  (2/2)

"You're already wet sweetheart."  (2/2)

"What if someone hears us?"  (0/2)

"Let me hear you make that sound again."  (2/2)

"We shouldn't be doing this."  (1/2)

Characters: (spice it up by adding an au in the ask 🤍)

Bucky Barnes 

Marc Spector / Stephen Grant

Miguel O’Hara

If you don’t see who you’d like me to write for, just ask me about them and I’ll let you know if I’m open to writing for them!

Just have fun with this one and follow the rules below! I'm not really making a theme or anything like that, but if you'd like a prompt from me, just ask and specify what kind of prompt! Also feel free to DM me and bounce around some ideas if you need to!

Rules: 

Use the 'read more' option if what you write is over 500 words. 

Properly list your warnings. 

Your story does not have to contain smut if you don't want it to. 

Dark stories are okay, just no non-con, scat, underage characters involved in sexual activity, DD/LG, bestiality, necrophilia, etc. 

Please use characters that I know, from fandoms I'm in. (If you aren't sure what all is on that list, because I don't post about all of them, just ask!)

Tag me! And use the tag #remisneonparty

Make sure it can be read as a stand alone piece. 

The cut off for this will be the last day of August. I sometimes take forever to write something and want to give you all ample time to submit your stories!

Moodboard and all dividers were made by me, but feel free to use them if you’d like 🤍

Tagging some friends (no pressure!)

@sweetdreamsbuck @shamevillain @pocolatte @perdidosbucky-yyo @treatbuckywkisses @foreverindreamlandd @historygeekfics @barnesafterglow @navybrat817​ @jessybarnes​ @buckysdior​ @honeybloomss​ @banana-cheese-cake​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @sidepartskinnyjeans​ @real-jane​ @archive-obsess​ @mutual-monsters​ @bucksangel​ @thepsychewrites​ @starchildbucky​ @nexusnyx​ @lofaewrites​ @thornsnvultures​ @aquariusbarnes​ @captainsimagines​ @writing-for-marvel​ @heavenlybarnes​ @matchamunson​ @buckybleu​ @boxofbonesfic​ @chloelucia13​ @snugglingbucky​

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

hey guys, y'all remember (checks notes) three entire months ago when i started writing that 5+1 of eddie and transfem stevie calling each other husband and wife?

well here's chapter two finally. bone apple teeth.

on ao3 here (on my life i cannot find my post for chapter one so you're gonna have to read it there)

----------------

Movie night at Stevie’s is now a time honoured tradition amongst the four older teens involved in fighting Vecna the first time around. Occasionally Jonathan and Argyle will show up too, but this time it’s just Nancy, Robin, Stevie, and Eddie, curled up in clumps around Stevie’s tv. They’ve finished the first movie and are now a solid chunk of the way through the second, and the late hour is combining with the few beers they’ve had and the warm fuzzy blankets they’re swaddled in to make them all happy and sleepy.

Stevie looks across the room, where Rob and Nancy are curled up on the sofa opposite, burrito-ed in one blanket, leaning their heads against each other as they both doze off. Robin is drooling lightly onto Nancy’s hair. Eddie, cuddled in a similar blanket burrito with Stevie, snickers.

“Nancy’s gonna flip her shit when she wakes up and finds an entire gallon of Buckley-spit in her hair,” he whispers, careful not to wake the girls across the room.

Stevie laughs softly, and watches as Nancy shuffles a little in her sleep, moving closer to Robin. “No she won’t. She’s got it bad.”

“God, she really does. You know she told me the other day she watched Robin trip over a curb and then yell at it and she thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.”

With a snort, Stevie shakes her head. “Glad they finally got together- Robin was insufferable with all that pining.”

Eddie giggles, curling further into Stevie under the blanket and tangling his fingers with the hem of her shirt, seemingly without thought. She decides to tell herself that the reason she’s so breathless is from laughing at the girls’ ridiculousness and not the feeling of Eddie’s rings brushing against the soft skin of her stomach.

“Man, if you thought Robin was bad you should’ve heard Nancy,” Eddie says, tearing Stevie’s focus away from his fingers and towards his mouth, smiling and whispering and so very close to her. “Swear to God, every time we hung out, Nancy was all sighs and heart eyes.”

Stevie laughs, only to immediately cut herself off with a yawn. “Man, more tired than I thought I guess. Those two had the right idea.”

“I’m not that surprised you’re tired honestly. Further proof of my ‘Rob and Steph are connected at the brain’ theory- she goes down and you follow right after.”

Stevie snorts and bats weakly at Eddie’s chest. The blanket is warm and it’s really compounding the sleepiness problem. Eddie smiles at her, nudging her slightly.

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” he says, voice and smile both equally soft. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

Stevie groans. “But I’m comfyyyyyyy.”

“You’ll be more comfy in your bed, y’know. With your five million blankets that you have for some reason.”

“It’s the estrogen. She’s done some good work for me, but she’s wreaked havoc on my internal body temperature.”

Eddie stands up, gently removing himself from the burrito blanket and slowly letting Stevie acclimate to the cold air he lets in in his absence. “Weird payoff, but can’t argue with those results,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows like a cartoon character with pointed looks to Stevie’s burgeoning chest.

Stevie huffs, gratefully taking Eddie’s proffered hand as she tries not to take his implied compliment to heart. She knows he’s just trying to be nice.

He’s been one of her biggest cheerleaders throughout her transition, knowing how nervous she was about estrogen, no matter how crazy her concerns were. Like, what if it didn’t do anything? What if it did too much and she didn’t like it? She’d been confident in her looks as a man- like, yeah, looking like that had made her want to die a little bit, but she’d known objectively that she was attractive. Now, with her appearance in such a state of flux, she’s gotten a little more self-conscious, and to Eddie this is apparently unacceptable. So he seems to go out of his way to compliment her every time he sees her. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes, and yeah, her slowly-growing tits and hips.

But she has to remind herself it doesn’t mean anything. Eddie’s just a nice guy trying to make his self-conscious friend feel better about her body, no matter how much she wishes he were appreciating her features for what they were. Eddie likes men. Eddie sees her as a woman. Both things she knows as fact, and so it follows that Eddie doesn’t like her.

It’s fine. She can deal.

Eddie hauls her up off the couch, laughing quietly when she immediately gets tangled in the remnants of their blanket burrito. He gently helps her extricate herself from it, and graciously allows her to slump her sleepy form into his side as he leads them towards the stairs.

As they begin to mount the stairs, though, the worst happens.

“Hey!” Nancy whisper-shouts, sounding all sleep-rumpled. “If you’re gonna talk shit about your friends while they sleep, do it quieter.”

Stevie and Eddie both wince, chorusing their apologies.

“And if you’re gonna talk about pining, maybe look in the mirror sometime. Now shoo, I’m cuddling my girlfriend.”

Stevie’s stomach drops through her feet. She doesn’t really register murmuring another apology, walking up the stairs with Eddie on autopilot, feet bringing her to her bedroom despite how much she wants to run away right now.

Eddie seems to be similarly in shock- probably the only reason he hasn’t tried to gently but firmly turn her down- as he sits on her bed with its million blankets, staring at his hands. Stevie remains standing, wringing her own hands nervously, not really sure what to do now that her cover’s been blown by a grumpy Nancy who was honestly probably still half-asleep.

“That was-” Eddie begins, his voice small and sounding apologetic.

Stevie can’t take whatever he’s about to say. So she cuts him off. “It’s okay,” she reassures him. “Nance was just- I mean, yeah, I have a crush on you and I’ve probably been annoying her and Rob about it, but I can- I know you’re not into me, hell, you’re not into women, I know that, and I can, like, deal with it. I’ve been dealing with it. So you don’t have to- I’m not, like, expecting anything, we can just be friends-”

“Wait, I don’t like women?” Eddie asks. He looks honestly thrown by this assertion, which in turn is throwing Stevie.

“Eddie, you wax lyrical about the male form, like, daily. I’ve never seen you look at a girl the way you look at posters of George Michael.”

Eddie softens at this, pats the bed next to him. Stevie sits, a little bewildered, and Eddie turns his whole body towards her, taking her hands in his. “Stevie,” he says, whisper soft. “You’ve never seen me look at a girl like that because if I’m with you, I’m staring at you.”

Stevie’s eyes widen. “You- what?”

Eddie looks down at their joined hands, laughs a little self-deprecatingly as he rubs circles into the back of her hand with his thumb. “Honestly, I was freaking out just now because I thought Nancy was talking to me there. I’ve talked her ear off basically non-stop about how out of my league you are.”

“Oh,” Stevie says. “You like me?”

Eddie smiles. “How could I not, sweetheart?” He rubs his thumb over his ring that’s still on her finger. “We’re married, remember?”

And Stevie’s heart melts. “Okay,” she says, helpless to stop the besotted smile spreading over her face. “Just checking- ignore all that earlier.”

Eddie laughs, bringing his hand to her cheek and stroking it so, so softly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Can I-”

Stevie doesn’t even let him get his question out before she’s rushing forward and capturing his lips in a kiss.

[gurugirl]

I love stepdad Harry! Always brings a smile to my face when i see youve posted (guilty pleasure yum). Thank you for the last one!

but i cannot get enough of stepmom reader. You’ve made that one into something really special. In fact I told someone about it last week and they were like ~ nope. Not into stepmom stuff or older yn. Nope ~

but then guess what? they wound up reading it and binged all three parts and admitted to me that they were wrong 😂 I’m like ‘yeah I know’

just wanted to share that with you! Your stepmom fic is so shockingly good (not shocking bc you’re not a good writer, shocking bc it’s a trope most of us were not interested in) that it’s quickly become my top 5 all time favorite.

i cannot wait for part 4! I adore them and you so much. Do you have any idea when part 4 will come out? Any sneaky???

ps.. sorry for the weird capitalization stuff going on there. My phone decided when to capitalize randomly and I’m too lazy to fix.

A Good Boy sneak peek under the cut below!

🥹 thank you so much, babe. Really glad you liked the stepdad!harry from yesterday! That was a quick little fun thing to write.

As for stepmom!reader - wow! I really love that you're liking it so much and talking about it with other people and that your friend changed their mind 😂 Seems to be the theme for that fic. So many of y'all didn't think you'd like it based on the trope alone but I'm surprised that you guys did enjoy it anyway! Makes me smile.

So, I'm almost done with part 4. I think I can have it out by Thursday? Maybe? I'm super busy today (well, busy for me LOL) and gonna try to write but I've also got something I'm working on that someone paid me to write so I'm prioritizing that. Thursday at the earliest I'll post part 4 but I'll let y'all know.

And the random capitalization? My phone does the same. 😂 The words can't, can, and don't often get capitalized in the middle of sentences and it's a crapshoot on when the beginning of a sentence will be capitalized or not. I need to turn it off so it just leaves everything lowercase. So no judgement from me!

Sneak peek below !! (just remember this is literally copied from the word doc I'm writing in and hasn't been proofread or edited so some changed may be made before I post part 4)

Y/n was wearing her newly altered peach silk dress. The alterations were simple. The straps and hem were adjusted and the back column was dropped down a bit to drape to her low back. Her strappy nude heels were well-worn but comfortable because she was just simply not in the mood to wear the stiff, new heels she’d just bought.

The estate of Rebecca Manera was impressive. Probably equally as impressive as Leonardo Styles’. Most of the guests had already arrived by the time the Styles’ walked through the front door a little late.

Leo scolded Y/n for taking so long to get ready and making them run behind but in all honesty, she didn’t give a fuck. They could be half an hour late. No one would care. Why rush to go to a party? It’s not like they needed to clock in and earn a paycheck.

“It’s rude, Y/n. That’s why it matters. You’re so goddamn rude sometimes. You only think about yourself.”

She turned sharply to look at her husband in shock. That was the first time he’d ever said such a thing to her. Normally he had no opinion on how she conducted herself. She was chronically late. Yes, she could admit that was a flaw in her character but she was on time when it really counted. But to get so worked up over a party? And to insult her on top of it?

That had set the whole mood for the night. And now she was even more suspicious about this Rebecca.

But when Rebecca did make her appearance and introduced herself to Y/n she was taken aback. The woman had to be in her 50s. She was pretty, sure, but not quite Leo’s type. If Y/n were any sort of indicator of a type.

Servers walked around with trays and served the couples in attendance. There were only ten couples there as well as Rebecca’s two daughters, Y/n learned. Quite the intimate affair really.

Leo brought a glass of wine to Y/n as she chatted with Mrs. Topman (she never learned her first name, as the woman literally introduced herself as Mrs. Topman).

“Here you are darling.” His green eyes shined down at her before searching the room casually. She was on to Leo. But she found it odd that the woman he was with in the Hamptons was Rebecca. She was intrigued.

She watched Rebecca mingle and sip wine and laugh and there was nothing there that made Y/n think Leo would be interested in her sexually. But maybe that was it, Y/n thought to herself as she cocked her head to the side watching the woman speak boisterously. Maybe it wasn’t sexual. Maybe it was a woman he felt a deeper connection with than he did with Y/n. Perhaps it hadn’t started sexual but led there.

The snack table was set up with decadent treats. Y/n picked up a toast smeared with something pink, topped with heart-shaped tomatoes on top as she scanned the room for Leo, wondering where he’d gone off to. It hadn’t been that long but knowing about Rebecca being with him made things feel like she was in some kind of true crime detective story and was trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. Though there was no crime being committed, she could entertain herself with that thought.

“Are you enjoying your time tonight?”

Y/n turned her sight to Rebecca who was next to her picking up the same toast with pink schmear.

“It’s amazing. Your home is so lovely, Mrs. Manera,” she smiled and noted the woman’s massive diamond ring in addition to her massive diamond wedding ring.

“Why thank you. Phineas has put in so much work to make this large shell into a lovely cozy home.”

Y/n nearly spat her bite out. The home was anything but cozy.

“It’s incredible. Where is Mr. Manera tonight?”

“Oh, just over there,” she pointed to a man in tweed with thick black-framed glasses, “You haven’t met yet?”

Rebecca led the way as Y/n walked in her wake to meet Mr. Manera. She had still not spotted her own husband.

“Phineas, dear, this is Mrs. Styles. Leonardo’s wife.”

The man held his hand out, “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Styles.”

“Likewise. You can call me Y/n.”

 “Well, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here. Where’s Leo anyway? Haven’t seen him.”

Turning around quickly to look over her shoulder she shrugged and faced the man and his wife again, “Not sure actually. I haven’t seen him in a bit myself,” she laughed. And before she could even think about what she was implying she spoke to Rebecca, “But I’m sure you’ve seen enough of him since you saw him in the Hampton’s this weekend.”

Rebecca and Phineas’ smiles dropped as they looked at one another and then back to Y/n, “I haven’t been to the Hamptons in over a decade. Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for Parker? Our daughter? She was just there all weekend with her girlfriends.”

A Good Boy Masterlist

A Good Boy tags: @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @shishcabobsworld @daphnesutton @spinnerswife69 @holy-macncheese-balls @cookielovesbook-akie @lilfreakjez @itsgigikay @amateurduck

[definitely-not-a-mew]

Heyo y'all! SO I made a decision to do a lot of writing alongside art, as the way I started with this kinda,, was very draining for me!! SO without further ado, the part got a little long so under the cut it goes!

The howling of the blizzard slowly fades away as the ragtag trio make their way into the cave. The light from the outside gets dimmer and dimmer, leaving them in the damp, chilly darkness. "So... whats our game plan here?" All eyes turned to the two glowing white pinpricks in the darkness. They flitted out of existence and reappeared as Egg blinked. "Can you not do that? It's.. creepy." The Mew shuffled in the darkness, cuddled up in the dirty labcoat they ended up stealing from Cole. "Do what?" it yawned blearily, flicking it's tail, not that anyone could see it. "Your eyes- they're just. Glowing. It's freaky." The two went back and forth about creepy caves, being tired, and glowing eyes for a bit, right up until they bumped directly into an obstacle. A.. strangely warm and fuzzy obstacle. "Is.. this some kind of cave moss?" The fuzzy wall began to shift, and tiny sparks of flame lit up the darkness. Several balls of flame appeared in the air, floating around the area and illuminating the cave. It became Very apparent the three had run into a pack of Arcanine, who were not happy to have been woken up. Egg, Cole, and Cheese all began to back up slowly, staring wide eyed at the large dog Pokemon. "We should probably go-" Several barks echoed through the cave, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, surrounding the three in a cacophony of noise and flame. Within seconds the pack had them surrounded, growling and nipping at them when they moved even slightly. "I don't suppose they'll let us go?" "Does the growling suggest they will??? Or perhaps is it the jaws snapping that screams 'mercy' to you?" Cheese shot a glare at the purple Mew. "They're Pokemon right? You're a Pokemon too, just. Talk with them or something." "Yeah okay, like they'll listen to me-" All at once, the growling stopped, leaving only the sound of crackling pyre. The circle around them parted as a very large Arcanine with several scars on it's face stepped towards them. "Why are you here." she growled menacingly, showing off her numerous fiery teeth. She seemed ready to rip them to shreds at a seconds notice.

The three could only stare as the huge dog impatiently waited for an answer. After what felt like forever, Cole finally spoke. "Ah- I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you or your family, we were lost and caught in a blizzard. We didn't know anyone was in here- we just escaped from somewhere and needed a place to stay." The scarred Pokemon paused for a moment, thinking this over. "How odd. You aren't here to hunt us then?" she pondered aloud. Cole vigorously shook their head in response.

The blaze in her mouth puttered out swiftly as she approached, deeply sniffing the human. "You smell of chemicals and.. like an old friend. You lack the necessary tools to capture us. What a strange creature. I believe your story." The fires in the air dimmed down to a cozy glow as the ring of Arcanine relaxed around them, and calmly dispersed. Growlithe could be seen a few paces deeper into the cave, huddled into a puppy pile. "You may stay here until the blizzard calms down. If you truly are lost, then I know a dear friend who may be able to help. If you are lying, I'm sure you know the consequences." She punctuated her declaration with the snapping of her teeth. The regal leader stepped back and padded over to her pack, turning around a few times before laying down once more. "That was... terrifying." said Egg, who was quivering and balled up as far as they could go into the labcoat. "How did you know what to say? I thought we were dead meat when you started talking." Cheese hissed out, still scrambling for their breath. "I... don't know, I think she just wanted to make sure we weren't a threat I guess? In any case she said we could stay until its safer outside... so I guess it all worked out." Cheese stared at Cole like they had grown a second head. "Okay.. I'm not going to ask how you know that. As long as we aren't dog food or freezing." Cole scooted over and picked up Egg, pulling both of the Pokemon towards the heap of sleepy fur. They propped themself up against a wall close the pack of Pokemon, holding Egg close to their chest. Cheese decided to curl up right next to them, shutting their eyes and slowing their breathing. Eventually Cole drifted off into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the warmth of the cave and the soft, rhythmic breathing the Pokemon nearby.