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kithtaehyung · 6 months

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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

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

Words abandon you.

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

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.

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

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

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

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

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

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

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

“I was.”

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

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

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

It’s just not the right time.

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

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

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

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

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

All the words around you just as speechless.

Just like that, you’re gone again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a little bit of summer rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After three months of questioning his existence.

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

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

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

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

The fuck.

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

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

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

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

…Shit.

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

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

Shit.

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

Why can’t he fucking move?

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

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.

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

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

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

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

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

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

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

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?”

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

“Nah, come now.”

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

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

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

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.

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

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

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

“Shit, I know.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Dude, relax, I get it.”

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”

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

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

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”

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

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

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

Dumbass: Incoming Call

Of fucking course.

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

“Wait, where are the—”

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

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

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”

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

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.

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

“Shit.”

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

“Okay, fine.”

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

Delusion is a great place to stay.

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

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

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

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

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

“Everything, Yoong.”

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

So, so far away.

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

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

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

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

“No running.”

“K.”

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

“How did that sound?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kidding. Only a little.”

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

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

Choosing not to say what he wants to.

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

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

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

“Do the chorus again.”

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

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

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

Done. He said it.

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.

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

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”

Huh. They’re gonna take that?

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

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

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

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

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

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

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

“Let’s see how it sounds.”

“K.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

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

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

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

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

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

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

Hustler: Incoming C—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hustler: Outgoing Call

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

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

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

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

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

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

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

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

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

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.

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

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What.

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

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

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

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

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

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

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

Oh, fuck that.

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

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

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

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

…Motherfucker, what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

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

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

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

“You gonna say anything or what?”

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

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…”

“No?”

Just hurry up and fucking do it.

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

His ex?

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

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

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

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

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

“Domestic?”

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

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

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

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

A sudden crack splits him through.

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

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.

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

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

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think she feels all alone.”

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

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

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

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

“I’m heading out again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the run.

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

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

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

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

Unprecedented.

“You’re the best out of all of us.”

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

And they both share a drink in respectful silence.

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

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

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

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

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

“Break up with her, Yoong.”

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

“Yeah?”

“It’s over now.”

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

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

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

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

“You sure it’s over?”

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

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

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”

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

Get rid of it? He’s been trying.

For three. Fucking. Months.

“I might.”

“…K.”

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

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

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

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

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

What time is it?

All that greets him is darkness.

Nothing new, but darkness all the same.

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?

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

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.

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

And the darkness pulls him back under.

Without even telling him the time.

Buzzing.

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

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

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

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages

Chim: 7 Messages

Chim: Missed Calls (3)

Holy fuck.

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

“Oh, fuck. There you are.”

“Mm.”

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

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He told you?”

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

“That it’s done.”

A hum.

“That’s very true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Knowing the answer.”

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

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!”

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

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

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

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

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”

“K. Same time tomorrow?”

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

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

“Relax! You will like it.”

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

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

Exactly where he always ends up.

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

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

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

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

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.

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

That sounds like fucking bliss.

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

All he wants to do is see you, too.

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

After all this time. All these days and nights.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something that isn’t broken.

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

What. No way.

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

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

Hustler: Incoming Call

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

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

“Are we… is this over?”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

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

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.

“Are you? With me?”

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

“No way in hell, doll.”

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

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”

That’s okay.

Because he’s had a day, too.

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

Please keep going.

Please don’t leave him alone.

“Talk to me.”

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

You’re so good at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

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

“What did he say?”

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

“Oh, thank fuck.”

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

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

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

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

“Me, too, baby.”

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

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

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

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

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

“For putting up with me.”

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Boo.”

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

“A ha… Yeah.”

“What are you still talking to me for?”

“I miss you.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

“Ha ha.”

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

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout?

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

“Wait, huh? Why!”

“Nothing.”

“I swear to god—”

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

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

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”

“Kitchen.”

The hell? “How’d you know?”

“You’re always in there.”

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

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

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

“The world said let them cook.”

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

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

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

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

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.”

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

Because of you. It’s always you.

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night.

“Night, doll.”

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

Right towards the corner that stares back.

It’s been five days.

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

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

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

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

…So what in the fuck was that?

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

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

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

This is so hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man.

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

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

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

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

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”

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

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

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

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.

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

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

“Do better.”

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

“What? Who said anything about dessert?”

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

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

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

“I am.”

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

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

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

“Mm, babe. One more thing.”

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

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

“I think we’re out of condoms.”

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

“Wait. Or are we?”

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

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

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

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

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

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

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

And you want that to be the case forever.

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

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”

“Damn!”

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

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

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

“It’s gonna happen, doll.”

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could’ve asked somebody.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

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

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

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

“Eat.”

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

“Mm.”

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

“Just a bite then.”

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

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

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

“I don’t mind.”

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

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

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

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

“Everything.”

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

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

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Yeah.”

Fuck. “About what?”

“That you’d hate me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

“Always, doll.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where we’re going.”

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

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

“Then why—”

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

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

“You comin’?”

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is it with him and keys?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking long.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

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

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

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

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

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

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

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

“Good. You bored?”

“Huh?”

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

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

You could do this for eternity, too.

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

This man.

“Forever might be a stretch.”

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

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

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

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

“It was kinda hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.”

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“What.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”

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

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

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Careful, doll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”

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

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

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

But team jerseys?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?”

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

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

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

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

Ah, you were right. “I like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

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

All you can do is stare back.

And without even realizing.

You’re already rubbing your arm.

tbc. :((

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

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

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

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guksfairy · 1 month

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I’m Tired Anyways

Jungkook x bubbly OC

playlist • original scene •

WC: 2K

In which Jungkook shows you he genuinely cares about you in his own way

💗: HEAVILY inspired by that one scene in ‘When I Fly Towards You’! If you want to see the original scene I based this fic off of I linked it above and it starts at minute 19:32 💗 !

note: I wrote this fairly quick so please excuse mistakes 🥲

You wish you could stare at her with a genuine smile but how could you? There she was standing with your Jungkook! Maybe not yours yet but eventually your Jungkook!

You watched as they stood in front of a stand looking at all the souvenirs displayed on the table along with a variety of other objects.

“Are you aware you’re pouting like a kid who was just told no?” You stare back at your best friend of 4 years and let out a breathy sigh.

“Sua, do you think they’re still close?”

“Considering this is their first time seeing one another after 2 years…no,” you begin to smile, “but who says people can’t reconnect,” and it goes away in an instant.

“You’re not helping,” you say fully turning and staring at the variety of sunglasses on the rack in front of you.

“You know I’m only joking! You can’t seriously be this upset because Jungkook and a girl from his old school are catching up,”

You walked out of your English exam tired as fuck. You looked at the other students walking out along with you and every single one looked tired. Your exam group had to get up at 6 AM for your test which would be from 7 AM to 10 AM.

Not all 3 hours were used but if you wanted a good mark than you better use them. As you walked down the ramp to the exit you catch a glimpse of Jungkook walking back and forth clearly waiting for you at the exit.

“Jungkook!” you run to him with a completely different emotion from the prior. His group was slightly luckier with their test only being 2 and a half hours long.

“I thought your test ended a half hour ago. Were you waiting for me?” you liked to tease him. He wasn’t big on emotions but even a smile would do for you.

“Oh- uh I just came out now,” you can tell he was bluffing but let it go realizing your other three friends weren’t with him.

“Have Sua, Jimin, and Minhyuk not finished their tests?” you question as you watch his eyes trail to the left and stared at the three crouching on the floor.

“She’s so in love with him she doesn’t even notice us,” you hear Minhyuk say as you smile shyly at Jungkook as he lets a barely audible laugh.

The three walk towards you and Jungkook.

“Well I need some food in my system. Should we look up places to eat here?” Jimin’s already taking his phone out before you can all agree but all your attention is quickly taken when you hear a voice call Jungkook’s name.

“Jungkook! Is that you? I thought I recognized you!” it was an older man walking towards your group with a girl who looked your age.

“Mr. Fukutomi,” Jungkook turns and greets the elder with a handshake. He wore a green badge signifying he was a teacher.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you! You remember my granddaughter, Tsuki,” she waves at your entire group and you try your best to keep a smile.

He remembers her?

“I’m assuming you came here to take your annual science exam? How was it?”

“I did and it was fine. I enjoy science a lot,” he speaks as the four of you just watch and listen to their interaction.

“Well it’s almost lunch time. Have you all eaten?” he asks and stares at us all.

“We were just on our way sir,” you hear Minhyuk behind you. You could hear the desperation in his voice for this conversation to end so he could finally grab some food.

“You should let Tsuki show you around town and then have lunch together afterward. She practically grew up here,” the elder suggests making a hand movement towards Tsuki who just smiled.

Again. You hear Minhyuk let a quiet sigh at the thought of doing something before eating.

“Oh we wouldn’t want to bothe-” ”Nonsense! I’m sure you two would like to catch up too!” he cuts off Jungkook before wishing you all a great day and walking away.

You all wave goodbye to him and watch Tsuki walk closer to you guys.

“I know this great sight seeing area but we need to walk a bit far for it,” she says.

“You think we can grab some snacks or something first,” Jimin asks.

“Of course. We can stop at the souvenir shop around the corner. They sell tons of snacks from around the world,” she explains.

“Lead the way,” Jimin replies as she lets out a small laugh and you all begin walking.

You walk shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook before realizing Tsuki was on his other side and they were laughing and conversating so you walk slower to be with Sua who was behind you.

“What’s wrong?” she notices your head slightly down as you wrap your arm around hers. You don’t even realize when Jungkook took notice of you leaving his side as he stared back at you.

You looked upset which worried him. Maybe he’ll ask you when you guys arrive at the shop.

“Tsuki’s pretty,”

“So are you, Y/N,” she replies.

“Tsuki seems smart,”

“So are you, Y/N. Stop sulking before I tell Tsuki to leave. Besides you know how head over heels Jungkook is for you,”

No. You don’t. Often times your friend group would tease you and Jungkook and would always say how in love he was with you but you never fully saw it.

Sure he’s defended you multiple times, has come to your rescue on multiple occasions, and always walks you home but maybe that was just him being nice.

He’d have to do much more for you to feel fully confident in his feelings towards you.

“Stop it. You would never,” you say leaning your head on her shoulder following the pace of the group.

“Tsuki!” you hear her call out and immediately panic resulting in you giving her a minor hit on her arm before staring at Tsuki and smiling at her. You end up making eye contact with Jungkook who also turned around.

“Nothing! Are we almost there?” Sua ask.

“We’re here!” she says pointing the bright shop filled with a variety of snacks.

Jimin and Minhyuk run inside grabbing snacks they know your group would enjoy leaving you, Sua, Jungkook, and Tsuki outside to stare at all the keychains, bracelets, and postcards.

Tsuki drags Jungkook over to a table opposite of you and Sua before she begins picking out random items.

“Got them! Let’s go” Jimin and Minhyuk walk out of the store with 1 bag filled to the brim of snacks for the 6 of you.

Tsuki begins to lead the group once more to a different destination in mind.

This time she led you to a steep hill. Not too steep but steep enough. You felt your legs giving out just from looking at it.

“I told you guys it was a bit of a walk but I promise the sights on the way up are so worth it!” she says with desperation in her voice hoping you all wouldn’t mind.

When you got ready this morning you weren’t exactly dressing for a hike.

Tsuki smiles and begins walking up and was followed by Jungkook and wherever Jungkook goes so do Jimin and Minhyuk.

“Let’s go,” Sua says walking a slower pace then the rest yet you still felt the burn after some time.

“Up ahead is a famous landmark if you guys want to go even further. You can see further out and it’s pretty during the day. Besides it’s a weekday and not many people are around if you guys are up for it,” Tsuki told the group.

You had all been walking for about 20 minutes and had finally reached an area with a bench and a sight.

“Is it the same one that people post all over their Instagram accounts to seem adventurous? Because if so, I am in,” Jimin’s eyes light up

“Yeah I mean we’re already here,” Minhyuk says with energy received after eating a bar of chocolate.

The group begins to move again before you interrupt.

“You guys go ahead! I’m going to rest here and wait for you guys. My shoes are making it slightly uncomfortable to walk,” you voice gets audibly quieter as you speak.

You look at Jungkook whose eyes don’t leave yours for a second watching you lift your leg off the ground just slightly to ease the tension in it.

“I’ll stay with you if you want,” Sua says staring at you.

“It’s fine, really, go enjoy the view,” you say looking back at the group and realizing his eyes haven’t left your face at all.

His expression read worried before his attention was pulled by Tsuki, “Jungkook, let’s go?” she begins walking away and Jungkook stares at you one last time before following suit.

You watch as the rest of the group continues walking uphill and sit on the bench staring out.

It had been about half an hour since the group left and you were growing bored.

As you take out your phone a hand reaches in front of your face holding a carton of strawberry milk with a straw poked in.

Jungkook always does it for you.

“You didn’t go with the rest of the group?” you say smiling up at him and take the strawberry milk from his hands.

“I saw a stand of drinks when we were walking and you said strawberry milk always makes you feel better,” you listen to him as you take a sip of the sweet drink and watch him sit next to you.

“Besides, I’m tired anyways,” he looks back up to where the group originally left from before speaking once more, “…they’re probably going to take a while. Do you want to explore?” he says looking at you.

“Explore?” you stare at him as he smiles at you and begins grabbing your bag and placing it over his shoulder and allowing you to get up before walking a bit further down.

“Tsuki failed to mention there’s a cable car that takes you directly to the land mark,” Jungkook says leading you to the cable car waiting for passengers.

“Oh my god if Sua found out about this she would be so annoyed! She was also starting to get irritated with all the walking,” you say taking another sip of your drink.

He’s staring at you like you hung the stars and leads you to the cable car before the two of you sit and watch the trees pass by as the machine gets higher and higher.

“You’re not afraid?” he says looking over at you and you shake your head.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of when I’m with you,” you say with the biggest smile and he stares away before you can watch his face flush

From there you completely forgot about your friends, Tsuki, and time.

Jungkook led you to other areas he thought you’d like. He bought you both ice cream and even bought you a small plushie to put on your bag because you said it reminded you of him. Eventually you two ended up on the beach collecting shells and staring at the sunset. Afterwards you decided to enjoy the view from the pier.

You watched him staring out at the birds flying above the waters and promised yourself you wouldn’t give up. Even if it took you years for him to reciprocate his feelings you would not be giving up.

When he turned to stare at you it caused you to immediately fluster and face the sea pretending you weren’t staring.

He was the one watching you this time. He was thinking about the carnival that’s coming to your city soon. He was thinking about the fireworks they would be releasing at 10 PM sharp. He was thinking about how you would react to him asking you out.

Would you turn him down? Jungkook was well aware your feelings for him were serious but he was never sure how to make it obvious he too had them.

Would you say yes and kiss him like you had in his dreams?

He would just have to wait and hope for it all to workout.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook

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ki-yomii · 2 months

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➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, masturbation (solo m), panty kink, switch!jk, semi public sex, exhibitionism, cum play ➥ summary | request: was wondering if you could do another short chapter of what will happen if y/n chose to wear the underwear jungkook used to masturbate with🥲 ➥ notes | ask and ye shall receive lol. i changed the prompt a little but i hope you enjoy anon 💚 also sorry for any mistakes its 3 am 🥲

🤎 series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 🤎

"You might wanna hurry up," you warn, your lips teasing the corner of Jungkook's trembling mouth with every breathy word. "They're gonna start wondering where we are."

Bar bathrooms aren't the most discrete of places, certainly.

Not only could anyone walk in to find you with your pants tight around your thighs - hands stretching out the waistband of your panties to keep yourself exposed to your boyfriend - you've been gone for long enough, the other's are going to come looking.

You might have another ten to fifteen minutes if Jimin gets distracted by shots (even less if he doesn't).

Jungkook groans, low and throaty. "I'm trying, I -- fuck!"

A shiver rattles his frame. Sweat dapples his forehead, clings to the downy soft hair at his temples. One arm braces him against the stall, the other working furiously between his thighs to no avail.

"I don't think I can cum like this, baby."

You hum, dragging the tips of your fingers up the length of his exposed thigh. The muscles bunch, jumping beneath the whisper of your touch. His lashes flutter.

The intensity of his gaze when his eyes catch yours sends sparks of awareness ricocheting down your spine, blowtorch bright. His brows furrow low over blown pupils; the pretty amber of his irises a thin ring of glittering gold.

When his teeth tug on his lip ring, you want to take a nibble for yourself, attention drawn to the red bitten swell of his bottom lip as the metal dimples the flesh.

You swallow, rough.

So pretty like this, you think.

"Fuck, that's it," he hisses, voice reedy and thin with desire. He rolls his wrist, squeezing the swollen head of his cock between his fingers until a clear bead of pre-cum oozes from the tip. "Keep looking at me like that."

Your stomach swoops.

Liquid fire burns through your veins, settles into a blooming warmth that hooks behind your navel. Your thighs clench, and your hips twitch. You throb when he stares down at your pussy, transfixed by the sticky slick clinging to your folds and the pulse of your clit.

"I wish we were back at home," he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Wanna fuck you so bad, baby."

You sigh in agreement, ducking forward to ghost a kiss over the corner of his jaw. "Please, Kook. We don't have much time. Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum on my pussy, wanna play with myself all wet and messy when we get home."

His fist slams against the stall door, his head rolling back between his shoulders as he grits his teeth. His other hand reaches down to massage his balls, a thumb digging into the base of his shaft.

"Shit!"

So, so close. And yet...

"If you don't now, you won't be able to for the rest of the night. You know how the boys are - we're gonna be out until at least 2 AM."

Jungkook huffs, “I know, trust me. I want to cum, but I’m telling you I can’t.”

It’s adorable how frustrated - how miserable - he looks as he works a hand over the length of his soaked cock. Movements short, rough; desperate strokes meant to get him off quick and dirty because you're running out of time.

"My poor baby," you say.

Heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation, you tilt your hips out. Your stance widens, allowing you to slip a hand between your thighs with ease. Fingers stroke down the length of your slit, tips dipping into your entrance to gather sticky arousal.

Jungkook watches you all the while, his breath stuttering from him in heavy pants. His eyes are twin black holes; dragging you in and refusing to let go. His hand's movements never paused, still working at his cock with long, heavy strokes.

"Here, let me help with that."

Reaching up, you take your soaked fingers and trace them along the curve of his mouth. Smear your slick into the chapped skin. Tease the tips along the soft velvet of his inner lip.

Your breath catches when you feel the flicker of his tongue lapping up your arousal, his gaze burning into yours.

"You taste so good."

Teeth nip at your fingers. When he speaks, his words slur together and his hand speeds up until his inked knuckles are a blur of movement.

"Hahh - wanna bend you over right now, eat you out until you're crying. Fuck you full. Make - make your pretty pussy squirt all over my cock."

"Yes," you breathe, touching your forehead to his. Your noses brush as you share space, the air heavy with arousal. "Just like that, baby. Now... don't you wanna cum all over me? Soak my panties and make me walk around the bar all messy just for you?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

When he finally falls over that edge, his mouth drops open on a silent whine. His eyes scrunch shut as the fingers of one hand curl over the top of the stall, the other a loose ring for him to fuck his hips into.

A full body shudder rolls through him.

Spurts of cum stripe along the top of your mound, dripping down over your throbbing clit to pool into the crotch of your panties. The fabric darkens, sticky and damp.

"That was so hot, baby." Jungkook runs his clean hand through his hair, fingers trembling. He's glassy eyed, dazed as he shoots you a dopey smile. "Haven't cum that hard in a while."

You smile, tossing him a wink while you pull the waistband of your panties up your hips. You moan when the fabric clings to your folds, pussy throbbing; a sticky friction you'll feel with every step.

You kiss his flushed cheek, and say with a wink, "Mm, now let's get back out there. Wouldn't want them thinking we were up to something, would we?"

His laugh echoes off the bathroom walls, following you out into the din of the bar, his body a line of heat at your back. When you get to the shared table, you're not fooling anyone.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts jungkook

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bangtanintotheroom · 11 months

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Undershirt, Underskirt (M)

• Pairing: Bang Chan x (F)Reader

• Genre: Idol!AU, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 1.3k

• Summary: Your boyfriend’s Lollapalooza attire leaves you wanting for him more than usual.

• Warnings/themes: Chan’s Lollapalooza fit 🫠, pining, ogling, Y/N being horny on main, making out, riding, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex (she’s on BC), praise

• Notes: *sighs* Look. I’m not gonna act like there was some deep reason behind writing this. I saw Chan in a tank and went absolutely feral. Like, DISGUSTINGLY FERAL. So I had to get it out of my system somehow 🥲 Funny enough, something like this happened last year with Hobi at Lollapalooza…makes me curious about next year lmao

• Notes (2): Thanks to my demonic tender @minttangerines for the beta and encouraging me to go ahead and get my thoughts out on paper! 💕

• Taglist: @jimilter @joontied @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @sugalaritae @crisle19 @codeinebelle @kookprada @saweetspoiled @effielumiere @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki

Time was never something that you paid much attention to. You went with the flow with no problem. But right now?

Every second that passed by without your boyfriend walking through that room door was time that was wasted not sitting on his dick.

Your grip on the skirt of your dress tightened when you watched the minutes on the alarm clock change yet again. A low grumble escaped your pursed lips as you stewed in this lonely hotel room.

This was unlike you.

You weren’t some 24/7/365 horny monster who would wither away without a helping of Chan. But you had been witness to an unspeakable sight on the Lollapalooza stage.

The sight of Chan removing his jacket to reveal a white tank underneath paired with a multitude of gold chains.

The light stick you had been holding almost fell with how off-guard you were taken. All the times you had seen him in various states of undress and this was what broke you?

Maybe it was the simplicity of the fit that got to you.

Maybe it was the display of his muscled arms and lightly-tanned skin that affected you.

Maybe it was the fact that you kept seeing his top ride up, showing off the flatness of his lower stomach that sat above those damn leather shorts.

Leather shorts that concealed what you were dying to have in your mouth, hands or pussy right now.

Your thighs rubbed together at the strong wave of pleasure that washed over from the thought.

Okay, maybe it was all on you just being a horny mess.

The clicking of the doorknob had you darting up into a full sitting position now, watching it turn with widened eyes. The door opened to reveal the object of your salacious desires, his tired face lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey baby! Sorry I’m so—”

Your body went on autopilot and bounded down the bed and over to Chan, pouncing on him with your arms wrapped tight around his neck. A sound of exertion left as the weight of you transferred onto him, the force pushing his back into the door. Before he could ask what had gotten into you, you planted your lips on his, the taste of him and his vanilla lip balm only exacerbating your horniness.

It took a few seconds, but he was quick to return your kiss, dropping the bag he held in favor of resting his palms on your ass. But the gentleness of his hold swept away as soon as your tongue came out to part his mouth, long fingers digging into the clothed flesh with intensity.

Damn.

You thought having him in the flesh would ease your pain, but his hard body against your softer one and the scent of his cologne and sweat invading your nostrils only made it worse. There was only one way to fix it.

Pulling away when you were losing breath, you panted, “Please fuck me.”

Chan’s lidded dark eyes opened wide at your plea, still trying to wrap his head around what the fuck was going on.

“Y-Y/N? You good?”

“No, I’m not good. I’ve been wet as an ocean since you were on stage and I need you to help me out.”

Your whining made a low groan leave him, head tipping back against the wood.

“For real?”

Rather than speak, you took one of his hands and slipped it under the hem of your dress. Just the light touch of his fingers brushing against your clothed center had you biting back a whimper, but it was nothing compared to the sharp swear Chan let out.

“The fuck, baby, you’re soaked—”

He ripped that concealed sound out of you by giving your near-throbbing clit a light pinch, making your knees wobble for a moment.

“Can you help me? U-Unless you’re tired…”

Chan straightened the both of you up with his free hand, the look in his eyes speaking volumes.

“Sleep is overrated. Come on.”

Your boyfriend may have denounced slumber earlier, but halfway through the fun, his movements grew a bit slower. Not wanting to exert him any further, you guided him to recline against the headboard and let you take over. The grateful smile he gave was more than enough to make your night.

Well, that and being able to finally sit on his dick like you so desperately wanted.

“Is this really all because of my outfit?”

A huff left you at his inquiry, one hand sliding down from his damp shoulder to give the tank top he still adorned a light tug.

“Yes, babe. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Chan chuckled, biting back a groan as you gave a clench. “Nah, I just don’t get to see you like this often. I like it.”

Now you giggled, leaning forward to press your nose against his.

“Do you?”

A sudden thrust from him interrupted your riding.

“Yeah.”

The moan you let out ended up bringing another stroke from him, forcing your hand to go back to holding him for support. His own roamed over your body, rubbing and gripping in multiple areas that made your blood run hot.

“This plus what you’ve got on? You’re lucky I didn’t run off the stage.”

You laughed at his scenario, knowing damn well he wouldn’t risk such a maneuver.

While you had requested Chan to keep his upper torso clothed (no point in keeping on the ripped shorts), he came in with one of his own, asking if he could just push your dress out of the way. You had no qualms against that, allowing him to tug the hem to gather around your waist while he slid your panties down and off your legs. So what if you were sweating a little more than usual because of the fabric?

That’s what showers were for.

One was definitely going to be necessary after the day the two of you had and the current act that was making everything between your moving bodies sticky and slippery.

After some time, every action on both of your ends led to your riding getting faster and off-beat and his occasional thrusts to become more frequent. It didn’t help when Chan buried his face into your neck, thick voice rumbling against your wet skin, “Gonna make me come if you keep this up, babygirl—”

Surely he could feel the tremble that rocked your entire body.

“Good.”

You gave him little time to prepare after your reply, doing a certain move with your hips that always pushed him to the edge quickly. This time was no exception, Chan’s noises of bliss increasing in pitch until a guttural groan silenced them, feeling him grab your hips to bury himself as he twitched and filled you up with his come. You were able to go against his grip a bit to roll your hips enough to give your clit some stimulation, allowing you to achieve your own orgasm as well.

You could feel Chan laying nips and kisses all over your neck as you shook, followed close with endless praise that made your pussy give clenches that forced his speech to pause. A sense of pride washed over you at how it pulled a few more spurts from him, adding to the heat that coated your walls.

As soon as you slumped onto him, he shifted your bodies so he was laid flat with you directly on top, toned arms holding you tight.

“All better now?”

A hum of content came from you as you snuggled into his chest, your overheated cheek enjoying the cool metal of his chains.

“Much better.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Dirty Little Secret

Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Masturbation (male)

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!

“Hey. Are you listening?”

A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.

“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”

“No,” you confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.

“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”

You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.

He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.

“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.

“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”

“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”

“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”

You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.

“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.

“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.

His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.

“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.

“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.

Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.

You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.

Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.

He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.

But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.

God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.

He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.

His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.

Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.

He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.

His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.

Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.

He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.

Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.

He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.

In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.

He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.

He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.

He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.

“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”

He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.

You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.

“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.

Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.

He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.

Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.

One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #Bucky x you smut #Bucky x you PWP

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redbullgirly · 4 months

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HI BARBIE! HI KEN! [part 2, LH44 smau]

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Masterlist & Hi Barbie! Hi Ken! [part 1, LH44 smau]

Summary: Lewis and his "real life Barbie" girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, are enjoying each others company during winter break. February brings unexpected drama when the seven-time World Champion decides to leave his team... though is that the only surprise waiting for the fans?

Warnings: Little cliffhanger at the end, but don't worry, I plan on making part 3 soon enough :).

Author's Note: This is continuation of the Lewis x barbie!fashion!icon!reader request, hope you'll all like it. This time there wasn't so much of "barbie content", but I'm sure you won't mind. I honestly love this series, plus there are still many photos for me to use, so stay tuned and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! :)

lewishamilton posted on instagram

liked by susie_wolff, yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,210,564 others

tagged: yourusername and fencer

lewishamilton Happy holidays from our little trip to mountains 🏔

view all 6,928 comments

user1 I swear to God this is the first time I see Lewis in snow

user2 ikr? like can he even sky? isn't it dangerous for him as an f1 driver??😭

yourusername merry christmas everybody, love u!!🎄🫶

liked by the author

user3 Very happy and merry Christmas to you too Y/N🥰

user4 yeah yeah... but where's the usual christmas post y/n?!

user5 that's what I wanna know user5 😥

user6 She always posts the hot pics with their tree... and this year nothing ☹️

yourusername omg sry guys, i didn't think you'd care sm! i was actually sick on the christmas eve and didn't feel like celebrating 🙈💖

user4 ohhh that's totally okay y/n!!!!

user7 Thanks for replying, hope you'll get better soon!❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc I see you're copying my training now😉

user8 lol charles just try not to fall on your face on ski

user9 no but can you imagine if we got Charles & Lewis training together in the mountains 😩

user10 It wouldn't even have to be in the mountains... I'd actually prefer them training somewhere hot so they don't have to wear shirts🤭

user9 i love your way of thinking girly

user11 King 👑

roscoelovescoco Mom's and dad's playing's in's the snow's ❄️

liked by the author and yourusername

user12 they left you home alone Roscoe?

roscoelovescoco Of course's not's... my auntie's watched's me's ☺️

user13 This is so adorable🥹🥹

user14 y'all don't understand how much I love their little family

user15 😘🖤✌️💯🌟

user16 y/n's ski suit looks so cool

fencer Good times man!

liked by the author and yourusername

user17 You are my God, Lewis Hamilton❤️

mercedesamgf1 Enjoy your holidays and don't break anything please!⛷🤍

yourusername trying!! 😊🌨

user18 lmfao

user19 Imagine if their best driver broke a leg or smth💀

user20 as a Lewis fan that'd be the last straw of my depression xd

user21 It's enough they couldn't build him a decent car last two years 🥲

user21 you & y/n are the best couple ever!🥰❤️

user22 Why's Lewis in red tho?

user23 sus 🤨

user24 some of you are truly bored and delusional🤣

user25 He probably has it so Y/N can see him on the slope and watches over him tbh

user26 idk where the narrative of lewis being bad at skying came from but i love it 😭

twitter

yourusername posted on instagram stories

seen by lewishamilton, haileybieber, danielricciardo, emmawatson and 562,983 others

lewishamilton replied to your story: Love you so much baby!❤️

yourusername love u too!!!💞

lewishamilton You are my brave girl, aren't you?

lewishamilton It's great you share your experience with others Y/N and trust me when I say I'll always be there for you 🫶🏾🫶🏾

yourusername awww lew, i know and i'll be always so grateful for it 🥰

lewishamilton Anything for my Barbie yourusername reacted with ❤️ to this message

user1 replied to your story: You and Lewis are just soooo cute omg

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story: forever y/n!!🤍🌺

yourusername ofc!!!

yourusername you're probably the only reason i hope the negotiations w ferrari will work out 🙈🤭

alexandrasaintmleux oh yeah, it'd be great to have you in the garage next year 💕

yourusername yeah, let's see what happens in few weeks!

user2 replied to your story: so prettyyyyyy i wanna be u

user3 replied to your story: THE IT GIRL

landonorris replied to your story: The question isn't if you'll be at every gp but if you'll come to McLaren hospitality for one of them😏

yourusername pretty sure mercedes wouldn't be happy about that 🫣

landonorris Oh c'mmon Y/NNNN

landonorris You promised me like ten years ago you'd come

yourusername you were a literal baby ten years ago lando...

landonorris But a cute baby who deserves to have you in McLaren hospitality!!!

yourusername okay okay, i'll come for a visit this year 😽

landonorris ONE HAMILTON DOWN TWO TO GO💪

yourusername what?? 😭

landonorris I decided my life goal is to get you, Roscoe and Lewis to be my fans 😁😁

landonorris Lewis can wait till retirement ofc 😁😁

yourusername idk if i hate you or love you mr. worldwide

landonorris 🤷😙

user4 replied to your story: Mommy and daddy fr

user5 replied to your story: 😍

user6 replied to your story: Hope you'll heal soon if you're still sick!!!

yourusername posted on instagram

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yourusername my job is beach 🦀🐬🐚🪸☀️ (btw how many emojis is too much??)

view all 4,068 comments

lewishamilton Isn't that supposed to be Ken's line darling?

yourusername theoretically... but i think i look better on the beach, don't you? 🤭🤷‍♀️

lewishamilton Well of course, your fashion taste when it comes to bikini is hard to beat ✨🫶🏾

yourusername damn are you saying i look hot in that bikini mr. hamilton? ☺️💞

lewishamilton It's Sir actually

yourusername oh shut up lew, i knew you're gonna bring it up 😭

landonorris I just witnessed Lewis openly flirting through instagram comments... the world won't ever be the same. I need to bleach my eyes 😓

yourusername yeah u should learn from my bf lando norizz

landonorris Heyyy this is online bullying, someone stop it

yourusername 😘😘

landonorris 🫤

user1 i have no idea what just happened but i loved every second of it

user2 It looks like when Lewis finally interacts with someone on instagram, it can get WILD

user3 not y/n using lando norizz 💀

user4 she's one of us now

user5 BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW SWEET Y/N & LEWIS ARE PLS?!!🥹

user6 Y/N living her best life and I'm here for it

francisca.cgomes enjoy!🌴

liked by the author

yourusername thx kika, you too!!💓

user7 On my knees for you🛐🛐🛐

roscoelovescoco The fruit's on's the plane's was yummy's 😋🥗

yourusername i definitely agree, let's thank dad for spoiling us!💖

lewishamilton My favourites deserve only the best 😉

user8 AWWWW so cute

user9 I'll never understand why rich people torture their pets like this... c'mmon, why would you give fruit to a dog? He needs meat and dog food. 🙄😤

user10 tf user9 you clearly don't know them at all if you think they're torturing Roscoe... this dog has better life than most of us lol xd

yourusername i'd just like to make it clear to everyone that me and lewis take the best care of our dog we possibly can, give him the food he wants and needs and love him dearly. it feels very offending for someone who doesn't see into our private life to assume we're "torturing" roscoe. you'll be blocked user9 and goodbye

liked by lewishamilton

user11 You know you fucked up when queen Y/N herself writes smth like this to you 🫢

user12 tell them girl!!! you & lew are literally the best parents to roscoe ever!!!❣️

user13 🔥😍

user14 THE BODY GIVING

kellypiquet Wow, the dress is so beautiful!💝

yourusername aww kelly thank you sm! definitely have to see each other soon 💕🫶

kellypiquet Can't wait for the girls talk!

user15 omg imagine listening to y/n y/l/n and kelly piquet casually having girls talk w each other 😫😫

user16 The tea has to be hot between the wags

user17 OMG, gorgeous as always 💖

user18 this couple has me in a chokehold

user19 RIGHT?! why is nobody talking about the 4th pic

user20 They're so hot fr 🥵

user21 and cute too🥺

user22 Love you Y/N 💋

lewishamilton posted on instagram

liked by nicolashamilton, naomischiff, tomholland2013, landonorris and 1,983,022 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton It's always important to focus on happy memories and remember the good moments with your loved ones. Couldn't ask for better people around me 🤞🏾💫

view all 11,239 comments

user1 funny how he talks about positivity and then in the first picture he's holding middle fingers up lmfao XD

user2 Maybe he took Daniel's F.E.A. rule to his heart🤣

user3 what's that???

user2 Fuck 'em all

yourusername so lucky to have you around me lew! 🥰💗

liked by the author

user4 stoppp I love her

user5 I wanna have what they have😩

charles_leclerc 🤞💫

user6 Ariana what are you doing here?!

user7 Beautiful 🙌❤️

user8 ohhh lew w his dad it's so cute

user9 His dad and Y/N in the same post... we are getting fed rn

neymarjr Amen brother!🙏❤️

liked by the author

user10 I love their their friendship

user11 it's so unreal how the world is small and my fav football player is friends with my fav driver🤭

user12 THE MAN

user13 the second pic is adorable 🥹🥹

user14 I'm jealous but I don't know if I wanna be him or her

user15 honestly i wanna be the third person in their relationship... imagine dating y/n y/l/n & lewis hamilton all at once😩

user16 OMG REAL

user17 boyfriend lewis is my favorite 🫡

1st February 2024

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by scuderiaferrari, lewishamilton, maxfewtrell, t22felton and 3,340,276 others

yourusername guess it's time to change colours ❤️🍓🌹🏎

view all 29,650 comments

scuderiaferrari Welcome to the team, Y/N!❤️‍🔥🏎

user1 you'll make our fav wag depressed next year lol

user2 Ferrari made a master move here 👏

user3 welcome y/nnnnn 🥰

user4 I'm still shocked

user5 me too sis😭

user6 We all are 😃

user7 🔥🔥

user8 when the gf is posting about it, we know it's not just a joke anymore😥

user9 FORZA FERRARI

user10 omg me & y/n y/l/n will be fans of the same team!!!!

user11 literally the only good thing about this

alexandrasaintmleux red looks gorgeous on you 💋💋

yourusername on both of us babe 💋💋

user12 BESTIES

user11 okay this is another good thing about the whole lewis situation xd

user13 Y/N and Alex will be so iconic next year 🙇‍♀️

user14 literally life goals to be like them😍

user15 So excited for this🤩 favorite driver and favorite team and favorite wag🤝

user16 idc about ferrari, but y/n in red slays

user17 omg yessss she's so hot in that dress🥵

charles_leclerc And now you can't make fun of me and my therapist 😘

liked by the author

user18 LOL

user19 not him admitting he goes to therapy bc of ferrari💀

user20 What about Carlos?? You said you come as a package 😡😪

user21 so true user20 it's so disrespectful towards carlos

user22 Guys calm down, this is their job and it's known for brutal driver switches. You'll have to deal with it, it's not personal business 🤷‍♂️

user23 yeah i don't think they're such good friends anyway... it was all for pr and marketing lmao

user24 I agree that it's just a sport, but pls don't do this to my charlos heart... their friendship HAS to be real😓

user25 Always support u and your boyfriend😉😉😉🙌🙌🙌

user26 Carlos deserved so much more!

user27 yes but she can't do anything about it girl, she's literally just dating Lewis 😐

user28 "Everybody is a Ferrari fan. Even if they say they're not, they are Ferrari fans." Vettel❤️

user29 i did not think it was real

user30 I need Lewis to comment something about this other than his statement pls 😭

user31 yeah i had high hopes bc he always comments and interacts w y/n's posts...

user32 Guess not this time😒

user33 Y/N unleashing more waves of chaos

user34 and we love our barbie for that 🤭

messages between Y/N and Lewis

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this! I'll appreciate likes, reblogs, comments, follow and any other way of support. Also, I started my taglist, so if you want to be added or removed, let me know! That way you!ll be first to know that another smau or story came out :). Sorry for the cliffhanger at the end, but don't worry, I plan on making another part. Have a great day!

Taglist: @namgification @bloodyymaryyy

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boiohboii · 11 months

Text

Nobel prize winner wife pt2 (toto wolff x reader)

(Social media au)

Toto just revealed who his wife of 15 years is, but if he was going to reveal his family, why not all members of them?

in which Toto Wolff decided to let everyone know who is the little boy who made him a father

Note: I am sure this is not what you guys had in mind when you asked for part 2, but I just felt like a little teen in the mix is needed for our favorite it couple. WARNING: like 3 swear words, if I missed anything please let me know

Masterlist

PART 1

Liked by wolfffam, ynwolff, totodaddy and 417,930 others

F1WAGS&FAVES: Dr. YN LN seen today in Yeongsan International School of Seoul, rumors are she is there for the freshmen's parents career day.

username: I can not handle dad toto and mum yn

username: toto and yn might be official dilf and milf

username: no, I refuse to believe they have a kid that isn't me

username: I am willing to fight their kid for an exchange of parents

username: I love how with every photo her skin tone gets whiter

username: welcome to the white washing of korea

username: she never disappoints with her fits

username: if they actually have a kid imagine how awesome it'd be, like his dad is the team principle of the Mercedes f1 team and his mum is the only woman to win a Nobel prize twice!

username: if I'm a parent and my kid is a friend of theirs, I'd never compare my kid to baby wolff, he'd just pull an uno reverse card and compare me to yn and toto

username: say sike rn

Liked by Lewishamilton, Pierregasly, georgerussell63 and 819,652 others

mercedesamgf1: can't wait for sam to join us, it's going to be such a fun weekend with him here..... here are 4 pictures of baby wolff throughout the years (yes, we knew, he is our favourite person in the paddock) ps: all photos of our prince are till he was 13 years old

Lewishamilton: can't wait to see the little man

samwolff09: can't wait to see you too uncle Lewis

georgerussel63: @.samwolff09 what about me?

samwolff09: @.georgerussel63 we were together last week 😆 but I still miss you 😄

username: THEY KNOW EACH OTHER, UNCLE LEWIS, HE WAS WITH GEORGE

username: HE HAS AN ACCOUNT

username: his account is private 🥲

danielricciardo: the little prince is growing up, I remember when he was just learning how to run

samwolff09: uncle Danny, please don't tell anyone of that time, I still get embarrassed thinking about it

samwolff09: we can't wait to join you again, take good care of mum and dad till Jay and I join you

mercedesamgf1: of course your highness

username: who is Jay?

username: imagine it's his brother

username: STOP IT!

maxverstappen1: P misses you @.samwolff09

samwolff09: @.maxverstappen1 I miss her too!! So much! Is she joining this weekend?

maxverstappen1: @.samwolff09 yes yes, once she knew you're coming she wouldn't take no for an answer

samwolff09: @.maxverstappen1 YES! I CAN'T WAIT, SEND HER MY HUGS AND KISSES

username: max being chatty with toto's son is so unhinged for my 2023 agenda

username: max writing his longest comments for sam wolff will be my favourite social media interaction

mickschumacher: Sammy! Keep your phone with you this time @.samwolff09

samwolff09: @.mickschumacher micky, please, it was one time!

sebastianvettel: well, now I have no choice but to go this weekend

samwolff09: uncle seb! I miss you!! Are you really coming?? Please say yees, pleaaseeee

sebastianvettel: of course little cub, who else is gonna watch over you and Jay

username: baby wolff collecting drivers left right and center

christanhorner: it had been too long since I saw this little man

samwolff09: looking forward to seeing you again sir @.christanhorner

christanhorner: @.samwolff09 please, call me uncle chris, and make sure to stop by and say hi

samwolff09: of course uncle Chris! See you then

username: I am confusion

username: did baby wolff just make a truce between mercedes and redbull

username: his smile can stop wars and here's the proof

Loked by park-sunhoon, jaypark, lewishamilton and 273 others

samwolff09: I just wanna thank my parents on my birthday cause they always make me feel loved, they always make me feel safe and that every little thing I do or feel is valid and is okay, I am so lucky to have them and I am truly thankful for being able to have them in my life and to be here as their son.

Liked by jungwonofficial, park-sunghoon, mercedesamgf1 and 261 others

samwolff09: 11 years apart and my love for this place is still the same

jaypark: one of the best vacation houses fr

park-sunghoon: true, it's still my favorite place

jungwonofficial: the summer we spent there was the best one man, we need to do that again

samwolff09: @.jaypark @.park-sunghoon @.jungwonofficial let's go again next summer, I'm sure dad and mum won't mind

Liked by jaypark, jungwonofficial, park-sunghoon and 258 others

samwolff09: I hate that we don't have any good pictures with the 4 of us together, but aside from that, I miss you three so much, fuck you for being busy...... but hey, make these bomb tracks woon and sungie win another world championship... jay I see you everyday at school but it'd be rude if I didn't include you

jungwonofficial: so it's rude to ignore jay but not rude to not post a picture of us together, okay I see how it is sammy boy

jaypark: we are the nepo babies of our quadrant man that's why I'm stuck by your side 😚

park-sunghoon: I thought you deleted the photo of the 2 of us! Dude, I can't have evidence of me clinging onto you, it'd ruin my image!

jaypark: what image, everyone knows you're a clingy ass mf as soon as you see sam

Liked by mercedesamgf1, georgerussel63, sebastianvettel and 361 others

samwolff09: happy father's day to my old man, he is such a great and loving man (even though he still scares me whenever I'm studying) when I feel like I'm so different from him he gives me all the love and support I need, and even if I don't say a thing, he still knows and makes sure that I know how appreciated I am and why he is proud to be my father, he let's me explore and experience things as much as I want while watching over me so that I won't get hurt. Dad, I love you so much and I swear I will carry you and take care of you when you're old and tired

{Taglist- everyone who asked for pt2, thank you and I hope you liked it ♥️♥️

@topaz125 @miiikkeey @omgsuperstarg @nayizy @ohkapten @d-stargirl @innercollectivecomputer }

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #toto #wolff!oc #toto wolff son

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1for5 · 8 days

Text

TO ALL THE GIRLS I’VE LOVED BEFORE

paige bueckers x uconn student!reader

with caitlin clark, aubrey griffin, nika muhl, and emily engstler

───────── ⋆⋅🏀⋅⋆ ─────────

CHAPTER 2: Games and Feelings

prologue ch 1

a/n: not my best writing 🥲 will improve this further soon!

It has been a month of Paige and Y/n’s arrangement, and to say the least, Y/n’s whole college life has changed. Y/n gained friends, and her weekdays did not revolve only on her major and writing activities, Y/n started to have fun. Y/n realized that she’s got time; she’s got time to have fun, do leisure activities, and rest.

Y/n did not want to admit it, but it was all because of Paige. Paige introduced her to many opportunities where she can create fun memories that she will truly cherish. Y/n’s got people who are willing to accompany her whether it’s a morning jog or a drive around the area when she is not feeling her best.

KK and Ice are part of her closest friends now, and they are always with Y/n through the fun and not-so-fun times.

It was a Friday, and a game day. The UCONN wbb will be playing against Maryland. Luckily it was a home game, and Y/n did not have a long to-do list. Y/n prepared for the game, wearing Paige’s jersey and did braids on her hair, just like how Paige does it whenever she has a game.

When Y/n arrived at the UCONN stadium, she went to her courtside seat. She was enjoying the loud roars of excitement from all sides of the stadium. Y/n was entertaining herself by people watching (not in a weird way, of course), observing the referee reviewing a list, the thousands of people taking pictures of themselves, and professors coming inside the stadium together. However, her peaceful thoughts were taken away when she saw Mia sit down a few seats behind her.

Mia was also wearing the #5 jersey with confidence. When Mia saw Y/n, she went up to her. “Hey Y/n! Hope you enjoy the game. Girlfriend duties!” Mia says and gave a weak laugh. It wasn’t not-normal whenever Mia talks to Y/n about Paige, but even so, this time, Y/n did not feel good. She was reminded again of the fact that her and Paige’s arrangement is not real, and may end in the near future.

Y/n was then flooded with negative thoughts, but it was cut-off when it was announced that the game would start, along with the players coming out to the stadium. KK and Ice saw Y/n, and knew immediately that Y/n was not feeling good. They both waved to her, giving a smile, which Y/n reciprocated.

Ice approached Paige, telling her to give her note to Y/n. Paige smiled and ran to the girl on the courtside seats, and gave her a note. “Glad you’re here pretty” Paige said and gave a wink to Y/n running back to her teammates, which left Y/n confused.

Y/n opened the note stating:

Hi! I already know that you will look so pretty in my jersey. Hope you enjoy my hoops. Meet me after and hang with the team? <3 Paige

Y/n smiled while reading the note, and behind her was an annoyed Mia. Not once did Paige have given her a note, which was an action she had been requesting for Paige to do during their relationship. Mia scoffed at the sight of Y/n, giving her annoyance.

When the game had started, and Y/n’s phone was getting multiple notifications buzzes.

Emily

Hey Y/n! I am confused.

Please answer me soon? Just give me a sign that you are okay.

I do not want to lose my friend.

Y/n shrugged it off, not ready to talk to her just yet.

As the game was going on, she could see Paige looking at her area, just not sure if the player was looking for her or for Mia. And it bugged her like it was the end of the world.

Paige was playing skillfully, from giving many assists, to shooting many 3s, and Y/n felt starstruck with Paige. Shifting from Y/n’s focus to the court, her thoughts began running.

Playing: Feelings by Lauv.

Y/n’s never felt this way towards Paige. Paige was undeniably attractive, Y/n will admit to that, even both men and women wanting to grab a date with her. Y/n always felt proud and happy when she watched a game, but this time felt different. She’s always seen Paige as someone with good skills and looks, but at that moment, Paige had an aura that was driving Y/n insane.

Y/n then started to think about how she would approach Paige after the game. Should she wait for Paige to come to her or should she do the first move? Should she wear a cuter outfit for the hangout later? Would Mia approach Paige? Why is she even thinking about Paige?

At first, Y/n never thought that she would be into the blonde. This was just rather an arrangement for Emily to stop messaging Y/n and for Mia to be interested in Paige. However, as time passed, Y/n saw another side of Paige. She saw how Paige loves, she saw how Paige was hardworking and determined, and she saw how Paige was willing to make her feel comfortable and liked, even if it was all fake.

Y/n finally admitted to herself. She has feelings for Paige, and its growing. She wants to make time for Paige, and make Paige notice her.

Real feelings are hard to find, but Paige made it so easy.

But.. How is she supposed to tell others? KK and Ice would feel betrayed when they learn that her and Paige’s relationship was fake in the first place, the reason why they started to actually hang out with each other. She can’t even tell them, she and Paige had a proper agreement.. But she needed advice. She was willing to tell Paige that she wants to share their arrangement to the duo.

And just like that, Paige shooted a 3, a buzzer beater. The Uconn team won against the Maryland! The game finished, and Y/n didn’t even realize it at first.

It’s now time for that party hangout.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #wlw #Spotify

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qwimchii · 8 months

Note

i was hoping to put forward a request, if that’s okay? 👉🏻👈🏻 angst (or hurt/comfort?) and smut with ghost? and i’m totally not projecting here but — reader has a hard time finishing, either by themselves or with someone? and when they’re with someone, they get so worried about taking too long and not being able to finish or even feeling good and they apologize for taking too long and it dissolves into them crying and apologizing more and mentioning how they think they’re broken and there’s something wrong with them and it kinda makes them think ghost will leave for someone else because that’s what everyone else has done and basically just ghost being soft and sweet and understanding and taking his time with reassurance and praise and yeah… gonna go hide now 🥲

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

note: omllllll!!!! 💞 i am so sorry for taking so long to write this request but this is so sweet and cute 😭 thank you sm for requesting!! ><

pt 2, pt 3

Simon Riley had been your boyfriend for maybe a month now. or maybe two weeks. or maybe three months, you decided finally, sipping your water with closed eyes, willing the frustrated bounce of your knee to settle.

of course, picking your head up and looking at the entrance of the restaurant one last time, that frustration redoubled, and you watched your knee bounce with a mind of its own.

setting the drink back on its coaster, you drew random patterns into the floral tablecloth with a pout. Simon had chosen this restaurant. Simon had initiated communication with you—mindblowing as it was—just last night when you were scrolling through instagram in bed.

the notification had ballooned over a post of an old friend from college traveling in europe, and immediately, you had squealed, pressing your phone to your chest to stop the race of your thrumming heart. you made yourself count out two minutes—at least two, before you responded.

— Dinner tmrw at the diner on 6th ave?

— sure!! good to hear from you :))

— what time??

— 7.

it was curt, it was short, it was sweet, but it gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the day and weasel your way into the diner, earlier to the occasion than usual. now, it was half past seven. now, you were playing with the tablecloth of the booth and feeling stupid and sorry for yourself.

stupid because you had sorely missed Simon since he went radio silent for over a month. sorry for yourself because you had thought you were at least close enough for him to text you beforehand.

definitively, you knew you had met the brit five months ago when he moved into the empty apartment adjacent to your own. he crowded every entrance he stood in, so massive and hulking when the elevator doors that you startled with a squeak, dropping the cardboard box and all the items scattering out over the carpet floor.

you had flushed with embarrassment, whole body heating up as you scrambled to stuff all the items back into the box with a string of apologies. he had dropped to your side without a word, putting back a pair of socks, your old band t-shirt from high school, and tennis shoes that had gone gray with discoloration. he hadn’t even bothered to one-over your personal items, but you were scrambling for an explanation anyway.

“donations for vets,” you said with nervous laughter. “i donate every year.”

“vets?” he reiterated, and you looked up into his face, eyeing the black surgical mask on his face carefully, brown eyes a murky kind of gray-ish beneath blonde eyebrows and his hood drawn up above that.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, suddenly wary of the stranger in front of you.

when he said nothing more, you asked him, “any veterans in the family?”

then he just stared at you and you blushed, feeling stupid for saying anything at all but—

“my grandfather,” he said slowly. “and my great grandfather.”

“nice,” you choked out, unsure what to say as you searched the carpet of the last of your remnants.

then, he added, “i’m in the military as well.”

just when you were about to bolt, intimidated by the sheer size of him and his eerie unfamiliar presence in your apartment complex, it was like he read your mind to introduce himself.

“Simon Riley. new neighbor.”

you nodded slowly, giving him your name back and edging your fingers under the cardboard box, heaving it up into your arms.

“nice to meet you,” you said, giving him a weak smile from over the top of the box. he tilted his head at you, eyes flitting from the box to you.

when a prolonged silence ensued, you turned on your heel and stepped toward the elevator before you jerked around again.

“thank you for your service,” you squeaked, scurrying toward the elevator and feeling awkward when he just watched you from the hallway. you waved as the doors closed, watching him slip his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

with one long look, he turned and prowled down the hallway.

that was five months ago. two months later, after endless awkward encounters of wordless greetings with him, the plumbing in your bathroom sink had exploded, flooding the floor in a puddle of water and spraying over the front of your white dress.

in a panic, you went to your next door neighbor Simon who opened the door upon your third set of rapid knocks.

you looked up to his massive form in the entrance, suddenly aware of how the front of your soaked dress had become sheer when you asked him to help you.

he helped. and then you asked him to get drinks at the bar around the corner as a thank you. then when that became a regular occurrence, things just got more confusing.

it felt exclusive. maybe. you thought it felt exclusive when a man approached you in the bar, gearing up for a casual conversation with a sly smirk, but Simon was always at your back in an instant, a large, warm hand on your waist and his words in your ear.

she’s taken.

your mind spun after the first time it happened. taken?

whirling around on your heel after the man left with a low grumble and scowl, Simon just blinked down at you from behind his surgical mask, squeezing your waist with both hands before he was sinking back down into his seat, hulking as he leaned over the bar.

when the same happened a few more times, you didn’t question it, thinking it was maybe just a perk of the friendship. he staves off a couple creepy men at the bar and you pay for drinks.

or at least that’s how you thought it worked until he started sliding his card across the counter to the bartender to claim the tab before you could even get a word out.

you were especially confused when he knocked at your apartment door one night. you opened it to find him void of the hoodie usually slung up and over his head, blonde hair hanging down his forehead, and a black shirt in its place. that’s when you saw the thick black ink winding down the tattoo sleeve of his arm, and your eyes darted over it with a blush, before you were inviting him in.

he had smelled something baking, he clarified, craning his neck into the kitchen. that made you giddy because you hadn’t taken him for someone nosy, but you entertained it nonetheless, assuming he just had an insatiable sweet tooth for cookies.

another part of you hoped he just had a sweet tooth for you.

then the baking became a regular occurrence. you’d bake him all sorts of sweets while he watched you from the little table in your kitchen, staring from behind that black mask of his while you prattled about your day and he took it all in silently. somewhere along the way, after so many nights of him chewing behind the mask, he ditched it completely, and you could watch him devour your brownies in a few bites without the annoying fabric in the way.

the new schedule had become very regular until it was baking night and he didn’t show up to your door. rolling the tenseness from your shoulders, you sent him a quick text, saying you would bring over the sweets in the morning to his apartment.

when he didn’t respond to that, a little nervous bubble of anxiety rooted in your chest. you found out from your landlord days later that Simon would be away for work, and that hurt more than you wanted it to. if he had taken the time to at least notify your landlord, he could’ve done the same for you… couldn’t he?

unless he didn’t think about you that way. but you were so sure—from the quick glances you shared, his gentle touches as he brushed past you in your kitchen, or the possessive grip on your waist at the bar, or just the way he was so relaxed around you meant something.

those were your thoughts that ran in circles as you sat at the diner booth. the waiter checked on your table every once and a while, sending you nervous glances ever since you said that you had a date… or a friend. or something like that.

you felt stupid for accepting Simon’s proposal so quickly, even after he had ghosted you for weeks. even then, you had dolled yourself up anyways, picking out the new dress you got last weekend and doing your hair and makeup. you buried your face in your hands, not looking up when you heard the chime of the diner opening.

when you heard a familiar, low and grating accent, your head snapped up to see Simon standing by the entrance and talking to the waiter, gesturing to you as the waiter just nodded.

Simon strode over to you, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and dressed in his military fatigues, half his face behind in a black surgical mask.

you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when you reached your senses, heart soaring as you scrambled to stand. your hands twitched against the table when he stopped in front of you, dropping his duffle bag to the floor.

had he come straight from the airport? for you? you felt like your mind was spinning, but you forced it to still, desperately not wanting to jump to any strange conclusions…

swallowing down your thoughts, you said slowly, “it’s been a while.”

looking up into his murky brown eyes had never been so comforting.

“it has,” he affirmed, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

for a long moment, you both just stood there in silence, staring at each other and unsure what to do.

eyes darting down to his torso, you could feel the warmth of his body in the close proximity, and you felt so tempted to just touch him.

you outstretched a hand to brush over his clothing, and when he didn’t move away, you pressed your knuckles into his abdomen, amazed to feel him solid and real. then you wrapped yourself around his torso, giving him a tight hug, cheek pressed against his strong chest.

immediately, he engulfed you, squeezing you back.

“missed you,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt his nose press into the crown of your hair. “m’sorry m’late, love.”

“s’fine,” you sniffled, feeling stupid when tears pricked up in your eyes. when you pulled back, you swiped at them with the back of your hand, startled when he reached forward to brush his fingers across your wet cheeks, squishing the chub of your face lightly.

he looked at you with such a softness that you almost melted, feeling nervous because you had never seen him look at you like that before.

then, as you both slid into the booth, you chided him in between sniffles, “don’t do that to me again.”

don’t leave me in the dark again, was what you meant, and you knew he understood what you meant when he nodded curtly.

the dinner went smoothly. more than you could imagine. or maybe you were just overwhelmed with the exhausting joy that Simon was still just the same since before he left two months ago—lowly grunted non-verbal responses as he munched on a platter of fish and chips, stealing a couple of your fries after he devoured his plate at a startling pace, and some rumbles of half-sentences, leaning on his elbow as he watched you ramble with excitement and sip on your milkshake every now and then.

when you accidentally got a smidge of whipped cream on your nose, he reached across the table to wipe it off, cutting through your words mid-sentence. you thanked him with a blush, shifting over the booth, just blushing harder when your shoes knocked against his under the table.

leaving felt smooth too—walking back to the apartment complex just a couple blocks away. even in the darkness of the night, you felt safe tucked near his side, enjoying his presence so close to your side and feeling disappointed when you reached the hallway you shared in the apartment complex.

he stopped by your door and you fumbled with your dress, struggling for words.

“come inside,” you offered, though it sounded more like a plea. your eyes flitted from his face to the duffle bag on his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress.

“i know you must be tired but—”

“m’not,” he assured, squaring his shoulders. you nodded dumbly.

“i can bake brownies?” you squeaked, and he blinked down at you.

“s’reason why i’m here, love.”

at that you blushed, opening the apartment and throwing your jacket on the couch, moving to rifle through the kitchen.

“it won’t take long i promise,” you called from behind the fridge door, snatching the butter and eggs from it.

closing the door to turn to the counter, you jolted when Simon materialized beside you, boots, mask, and the jacket of his fatigues off, reaching above you to open a cabinet. your eyes darted over the ink designs of his muscled arm.

“flour and sugar’s here, right?” he asked, and you squeaked a yes, ducking beneath his arm to put the butter and eggs on the counter before grabbing a mixing bowl and baking pan from a lower cabinet.

once all the necessary items were strewn across the counter, you measured out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. beside you, Simon leaned back against the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he watched you.

you were hyper-aware of his presence, hands jittery, confused because he always sat at the kitchen table to watch you. he never got this close and personal, uncrossing his arms to slide a hand over the counter right by where your hip leaned against it.

from your peripheral, you glanced at him, finding him already staring down at you.

“can i help?” he asked, voice gruff, and you turned your head to stare at him in dismay. this was new. very new.

“sure,” you choked out, scooting over so he could help you measure out the ingredients. he filled the space easily, arm pressed against yours in the little space.

you blushed. this was very very new.

he cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, and you watched the yellow glop plop into the flour.

playing off the whole situation as a joke, you laughed nervously as you mixed the wet ingredients into the bowl. “miss my baking that much?”

you bit down on your lip, unable to look at him, just focusing on the churn of brown batter in the mixing bowl. when you felt him lean in, his strong bicep against yours, you muffled a yelp.

“‘course.”

“really?” you asked, pouring the batter into the greased up pan.

for good measure, you dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, eyes flickering up to Simon. it was sweet.

he stared down at you, an imperceptible, dark look on his face as he leaned over and dipped his thumb into the batter, then swiped the gooey brown substance over your cheek.

“oops.” there was a smugness in his voice that his face smothered, expression blank when he gripped your jaw tight.

you gasped when he turned your face and leaned down to lick you.

the textured muscle of his tongue pressed into the curve of your flesh, licking away the sweet taste from your cheek.

then, he leaned back with a hum. “i like sweet things.”

you clutched at his wrist keeping your jaw firmly in place, wide-eyed and heart beating out of your chest. you watched his finger dip back in the batter and reached up to your lips, spreading the sugary sweet batter over your lower lip.

you squeaked, unable to look anywhere but his bare face, rugged and handsome in the low light.

“may i?” he asked, eyes flitting down to your lips, and you couldn’t even nod in his hold, just a low, breathy yes on your lips that he swallowed, tongue sucking the traces of batter on your lips.

you whimpered into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as he angled your head with a soft touch, sliding his hand on your jaw to your neck, just resting there. that spurred on a familiar burn in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

when he leaned back, you were breathless and panting with flushed cheeks.

“sweet,” he rasped, like he was approving the taste as he licked over his lips.

from that point on, you didn’t really remember how you got to your bedroom, Simon’s hands edging up the hem of your dress beneath him, knuckles drawing a warm trail up to your hips as he sucked on the skin of your neck.

the only thing you could do was whine and squirm under his weight, legs and arms pinning you down as he did what he liked, giving you sweet kisses that made you feel all hazy.

you watched his head dip beneath the fabric of your dress and you gasped when you felt his lips against your thighs, skipping where you needed him most, and then against your stomach and the flesh of your breasts.

and all throughout the pleasurable haze, your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging into the bed because you were beyond nervous.

you knew this would happen eventually—that Simon would end up in your bed or the other way around. kissing him was a dream. having him caging you against the bed with his heady weight was a dream.

sliding a hand over his back, his rushed movements slowed against your skin, taking the time to suck carefully around your pebbled nipples that had your hips bucking up with a whimper.

your mind spun. but you were so nervous.

it was all you could think about as he descended back down between your thighs, both of his big arms curling around your thighs to lock you in place against the bed.

words rung your mind loud and clear—what the hell is wrong with you?

when Simon dipped a thumb beneath the top of your panties, the words shook you again.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you hadn’t even noticed how still and quiet you had grown until his head perked up between your thighs, pupils blown wide. he swiped a thumb over the soaking entrance of your panties, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice so throaty and rough that you shivered with want. you had wanted this for so long.

“nothing,” you whispered, tugging his head back down between your thighs, but he didn’t budge, frowning at you.

“tell me,” he probed, “m’not touchin’ you if you don’t, sweet thing.”

sweet thing.

swallowing hard, you shifted against the bed. “m’just nervous.”

“yeah?” he stroked the plush, soft skin of your inner thigh, before pressing his lips to it. “don’t worry. i’ll make you feel good.”

you nodded, biting down on your lip, though his words didn’t quell any of the raging anxiety thrumming within your chest, even when he kissed the wet fabric stretched over your cunt, nosing through your folds and his hot breath against you.

lifting up your hips with ease, he tugged a pillow beneath you.

“comfy?” he asked, hooking two fingers beneath your panties and sliding it down your thighs.

“uh-huh,” you gasped, back arching when he ducked between your legs and pressed the pink muscle of his tongue flat against your cunt.

“good,” he grunted against you, pecking your swollen clit before swirling his tongue around it, and building a steady, delicious pace that had you hiccuping moans.

your hands snaked through his hair, gripping the blonde curls tight and pulling, startling when he groaned in response, the tremors going straight from the back of his throat and into your clit.

you ground against his face and he purred in approval. “tha’s it, sweet thing.”

you took the pleasure and rode it, pushing yourself further and further to the edge, or at least you thought you were, seeing no end in sight for the sensations wracking your body. every passing moment felt too long, and you could practically feel the irritation roiling off Simon in waves.

even though you couldn’t see his face, just could hear his soft noises of approval against your cunt, it was like you knew he was growing impatient.

frustrated, you huffed a whine, that anxiety in your chest squashing half the pleasurable experience. he reached up and pressed down on the lower part of your tummy, intensifying it all over again, making you gasp as your head fell back.

“relax,” he mumbled, playing with your clit as he pressed his tongue into your cunt, humming as he tasted you.

it was overwhelming. too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the tears that pricked up in your eyes as you were torn between finishing and feeling good and pleasing Simon and—

a little sob broke from your throat, and he went still between your legs.

you covered your face with your hands, digging your palms into your eyes and muffled the sounds falling from your lips.

why were you crying?

brows pinched together, you scrunched up your face. “sorry, sorry, just keep going—”

you cut off when a sob choked your throat, refusing to look at Simon and withering when he stayed silent, feeling really fucking stupid as you just cried in the bed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimpered, feeling him tug your dress back down over your thighs and hike your panties back up your hips.

you expected him to leave, ready to feel the weight of him against you on the bed disappear, and his heavy footsteps through the apartment, then the slam of the door behind him.

and you did—the dip in the bed lifted and you heard his footsteps edge around the bed.

then, you gasped when he slid into the bed beside you, arm circling beneath your waist and pulling you flush to his chest, breath right against your ear.

“what’s wrong, sweet thing?” he sighed, though it didn’t sound irritated, just tired as he sunk into the bed beside you.

your breath stilled, the cries dying in your throat as you twisted to look back at him. his gaze was soft as he peered over your shoulder, squeezing you between both arms.

“what?” you croaked, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your cheek, squishing you into the bed.

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, thumb drawing circles against your clothed tummy.

“nothing,” you said, and he made a low noise of disapproval, pressing his face against the side of your head.

clutching at his arms holding your waist, caging you to him, you choked out the words.

“i just…” you turned your head from him, tears spilling from your eyes and onto the sheets. “i wanna be good for you.”

he hummed against your ear, squeezing you tighter. “you are so good for me, love.”

“no, i meant…” you huffed, sniffling with a frustrated sound in the back of your throat.

“i take too long,” you squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “there’s something wrong with me.”

a sob pierced your chest. “i think i’m broken.”

you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest, embarrassed as you soaked his shirt with tears, muffled the sharp noises of your throat against his solid body. he curled around you, hand rubbing down your back.

“who put those ideas in your pretty head?”

his voice was deceptively soft, though you heard the threat that lay under it, and you shivered.

“my ex boyfriend.”

his body went tense against you.

“look at me luvie.”

you lifted your head and let him kiss you, tasting salty and sweet from the slick of you still in his mouth, as he brushed away the tears on your face.

when he pulled back and you looked over the curves of his face, the depth of his dark eyes, you admitted to him softly, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

it was such a small whimper that you don’t think he would’ve heard you, but from the way his face crunched into a frown you knew that he had.

“m’not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing the hair from your forehead. “m’right here.”

you whimpered, pulling him back down for a kiss that was wet and hot, teeth knocking against yours when he pressed you further into the bed.

“lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, and you clutched at his arm wound tight around your waist, the other creeping up to cup your breast.

“please,” you whimpered, and he hummed into your lips.

“when’s the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, lips trailing down to your neck, his large hand edging down to brush over your pelvis.

“long time,” you squeaked, gasping when his hand snuck beneath your dress, rucking it up so it pooled around your waist.

“c-can’t do it myself,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut when his fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties. “doesn’t feel good.”

“yeah? bet your ex couldn’t make you feel good either,” he mumbled, either to you or yourself you couldn’t tell, mind dizzy and somewhere up high when his forefinger gently brushed over the shell of your clit. “bet your he didn’t even know how to touch a woman. how to make her cum.”

you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, and you could feel him smile against your neck.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll make you cum.”

his fingers circled your swollen clit, other hand fondling the sensitive plush of your tits. as you squirmed against his touch, little breathy noises leaving your lips, you could feel his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. you whimpered at the sheer size of it.

“please, Simon,” you gasped, clutching at his wrist as he played and flicked at your clit, speeding up then slowing down and dragging you through a slew of different body wracking sensations, leaving you so whiney and sensitive that your thighs started to shake and twitch.

your ex boyfriend had never given you so much attention like this—just honing in on his own pleasure, degrading you when you tried to chase your own. it became something you dreaded. something you didn’t want and forced yourself through, faking orgasms and artificial, pitched moans.

it was so different from Simon that you felt delirious, blissed out as real, loud whines broke through your throat, riding his hand just wanting more and more.

“more,” you sobbed, burying your face into the sheets, jolting when he played and pinched at your swollen nipples.

“want you to cum on my hand first, sweet thing,” he whispered, and you almost cried real tears.

he huffed a laugh into your ear.

“feel that good?” he cooed, and you nodded against the sheets, wiggling your hips in his hand.

“c-can’t,” you whined, shivering when he made a noise of disapproval.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty, licking over your ear. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby. i can play with this pretty cunt all night.”

you moaned, grinding down into his hand, eyes rolling back into your head as he abused your clit, crushing it beneath his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum on my hand, and then i’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, yeah? then you’re gonna cum on my fingers, and i’m gonna fuck two more orgasms out of you. how does that sound, sweet thing?”

“Simon—” you choked, whole body going still when you finally reached a sharp peak, shaking and twitching and moaning softly through your whole orgasm that made you see a blinding white.

he groaned in your ear, so filled with pleasure it sounded like he came alongside you.

“there you go, baby, good girl. so good f’me.”

your hearing felt muffled when you resurfaced, blinking your eyes open, sleepy and muscles lax against the bed. he was petting at your naval, peppering little kisses and kitten licks along your neck and shoulders.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, luvie,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver slither down your spine.

“mhmm,” was all you could get out, pliable as he slipped from your side and moved you to your back, tipping your knees open as he dove between your legs.

you looked down, watching him drink up the cum from your pussy, slurping loudly and sucking on your twitchy clit, your hips squirming in his hold.

“so sweet,” he practically growled, and you whined in response, trying to push his head away.

when he finally relented, he sat back, licking over his lips before tugging the shirt over his head. in the dim lighting, you could see scars littered over him, naval blessed with dark hair and a toned stomach that made your mouth water.

“think you can do that four more times, baby?”

when you shook your head, he only smirked, crawling back over you and pressing the crotch of his fatigues against your sopping pussy, grinding his painfully hard, big cock against your aching entrance.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty. “m’gonna make you, sweet thing. you’re gonna be coming on this cock all night long.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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81folklore · 9 months

Text

new years day - HS

pairings: harry styles x gn!reader (fc: none)

summary: harrys partner reminisces on instagram over the past 2 years of love on tour before the final show

authors note: i was listening to my sleepy taylor playlist and this song started playing and it took me back to all the love on tour edits so i had to create a smau for it.. i promise im working on the drafts i put on that poll!!

authors note 2: i used they/them pronouns when writing because nothing ever really specified readers gender so please imagine as you will!!

masterlist

yourusername has added to their story

*text on first photo reads: a couple of my favorite love on tour fits over the years💙*

seen by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 637,572 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, harry_lambert and 826,891 others

its going to be impossible to not miss this☹️

view comments

harrystyles: ❤️❤️

user7: oh i love them so much

user18: the support you show for harry is so lovely :’)

user73: im going to miss guessing what the styles will be wearing every night☹️

harry_lambert: so many outfits! so many fun nights!

yourusername: ahh ill miss seeing what youve put together for h

annetwist: ill miss seeing you so often darling!!

yourusername: you wont be able to get rid of us, promise🤍

yourusername added to their story

*text on first photo reads: and with that my final love on tour outfit is done💗* *text on second photo reads: bring on the finale🥹*

seen by harrystyles, annetwist and 752,174 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, lloyddddddddddddddddd and 1,118,592 others

tagged: harrystyles

theres glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…

i have never been as sad as i am right now writing that love on tour is officially over! this has honestly been one of the craziest experiences for everyone; myself, the fans and for you harry. being able to watch you grow as an artist and an individual on and off stage for the past two years has been an honor and i cannot thank you enough for bringing me on this incredible journey with you

the love i feel for you is one i struggle to describe, its a feeling of joy when i see you on stage, its a feeling of hurt when i see you at your lows, its a feeling of pure happiness when i see you being who you are. loving you is something so genuinely special and i cannot believe i am the one who gets to witness all of you, all of your life

love on tour is truly something that is one of a kind and the family you were able to create with it will be something that lasts forever along with the memories created these past years

i dont think i will ever get over being the one to see you achieve everything you have ever wanted, getting to be the one you come to after a show and just hug until your hearts content, getting to be the person you cry on after a show like slane or wembley where you just felt so overwhelmed by the love and support you received

i will thank you everyday for choosing me to be that person, to be the person you love, to be the person you have join you in this life youve created for yourself

thank you love on tour and thank you harry

i will love you both forever and ever❤️‍🩹

view comments

capitalofficial: im not crying you are🥲

harryflorals: we love you both💐

gemmastyles: 😭😭😭🤍🤍

harrystyles: 💗💗

user6: i need harry to learn how to use instagram properly i NEED to see his response😭

user89: sobbing and screaming

user35: they love him so much😭😭

harrystyles: baby the love i have for you is endless, thank you for coming with me on this journey and thank you for letting me love you. i love you so so much

user35: and HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH😭😭

user62: i feel sick they love eachother so much❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

yourusername added to their story

seen by user56, user77 and 916,473 others

*first story has the song ‘new years day’ by taylor swift attached* *second story text reads: 🏠*

#harry styles x reader #social media au #harry styles social media au #harry styles social media #harry styles fake instagram #smau #harry styles smau #harry styles instagram #harry styles instagram au #harry styles x male reader #harry styles x fem reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

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aoioozora · 3 months

Text

Simon.

Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Longer chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it. anyway, if anyone knows who the artist of this art below is, please let me know. I find it all on Pinterest and I can't seem to trace the artist 🥲.

The steady, bubbling stream of cold tap water hitting Simon's warm, weary, grimy hands as he washed them was a respite from the busyness of the day.

He was, by profession, a car mechanic in the servicing department for a glitzy car brand. The day was booked to the brim with cars that needed maintenance and repair from accidents, and it was enough work for him to feel a dull ache in his shoulders, and a tremble in his hands as he lathered them generously with soap.

A weary sigh tried to escape his lips, only to be hindered by the mask he wore day in and day out. He felt his own warm breath against his mouth and cringed; an unwelcome feeling after working in the sweltering garage.

When he found that he was all alone in the loo, he took the opportunity to take off his mask, actually and properly sigh, and wash his face. He quickly wiped it down with a handkerchief, and not allowing a moment for his skin to breathe, he put the mask back on.

A phone call came in as he was stepping out. It was her. He found it a little odd to get a call from her, as the two mostly texted.

“Maybe it's something urgent,” thought Simon, now stopping by the door of the restroom.

“Hey, you alright, love?” he asked as soon as he picked up.

“I'm fine, Simon, but I kinda have an emergency.” Her voice came from the other end, sounding a little frantic, making him worry a little.

“What's up?”

“My car broke down, and I don't know what it is. I have the bonnet open and everything looks so confusing.”

“Where are you now?”

She told him.

“Okay, you wait there. I'll be there in,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes… Or as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she exhaled her relief.

“Are you with someone?”

“No, I'm alone.”

Simon's jaw tightened. “Make sure you sit inside the car and lock the doors. It's getting dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Got it.”

The call soon ended and Simon quickly changed out of his uniform to his normal clothes which consisted of a v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and his staple: the leather jacket. Having taken all his stuff, he clocked out and immediately mounted his motorcycle to fly over to your rescue.

Seeing that the sun had set already, he went faster. He reached her in fifteen minutes. Upon spotting her car parked by the side of the road away from the traffic, he slowed down and parked his motorcycle in front of her car.

He saw the bonnet of the car slightly open, and was upset by it. “She's practically advertising to the world that her car's broken down. That could get more attention drawn to her,” he thought as he kicked out the stand and swung his leg over the motorcycle, now laying a heavy step on the asphalt.

The stench of rotten eggs filled the air, and he already knew what the problem was. While he took off his helmet, he watched as she quickly opened your door and came out of the car to greet him.

“Oh good, you're finally here,” she smiled, looking relieved.

“Tell me what's going on,” Simon got down to business immediately, now taking off his black leather gloves that had printed on them the bones of the hand and stuffing them in his pocket.

She led him to the open bonnet of the car, and the stench overwhelmed his nose even through the mask. She told him about a sputtering engine.

“Did you see any dashboard signs telling you to check the engine?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Can you sit inside and turn on the radio for me? And turn on the headlights too,” Simon instructed.

She did as told. The radio didn't turn on, and the headlights were dim. He turned to the open bonnet and stared particularly at the battery. One of the connectors and pipes was caked with a teal powder; he called her out of the car, pointing out the discovery.

“Your battery is leaking out acid, bringing out all this bloody minging smell,” he said, brushing a bit of the teal powder with his finger. “Leaking battery and a stench means you have to get a new battery.” He now rubbed the powder off and put his hands on his hips, asking, “When was the last time you had the battery changed?”

“Six years ago? When I bought the car.”

Simon was appalled by how nonchalantly she said it. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Six years? You cannot be serious.” he could feel his mechanic heart breaking at the sound of such neglect. “Your battery is ancient. The maximum life of this thing is six years.”

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as he said this. “I didn't know that. I'm not good with cars, you know. I just rolled with whatever the mechanics in the service center did.”

“Fucking hell,” Simon sighed, exasperated as he looked at the battery again. “Looks like the service center mechanics weren't doing a very good job,” he shook his head again. “Batteries dying of old age are common, but this looks absolutely nasty. Almost looks like it's been neglected. You've been duped!” He said with passion.

Her eyebrows furrowed at this and funnily enough, she couldn't help but feel like she was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with a blond Englishman scolding her; the only difference being that a failing car was involved and not a failing kitchen.

He glanced at her, and saw that she had her arms crossed as she looked at the open bonnet of the car with a guilty and helpless look on her face. Simon's eyes softened with compassion and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“I'll call someone to tow the car to a better service center. I know a good one,” he said, hoping to assure her, “If we can get there now, they can fix in a new battery for you.”

Without waiting for an answer from her, he immediately called a towing company for the car, and then the service center to give them a heads up that he was bringing a car in. He even managed to bag a discount!

She watched with amazement as he made all these phone calls, words flying out like a hurricane as he paced about the pavement, hand on his hip. The more passionate he seemed about wanting to help, the more the guilt and embarrassment pressed in her heart.

When all the phone calls were done, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the device back in his jeans. “Right then,” he said, “I've got you all covered. Now we wait.”

She nodded and watched him curiously for a moment before asking, “You know all those people?”

“Yeah, all friends of mine. I'm a regular at the service center for my motorcycle. As for the towing company, the boss is a friend of a friend.”

“Must be great to have a lot of connections, huh?”

Simon nodded. “I've always tried to have as many connections as possible because someone once told me that it's not about what you know, but who you know.”

She saw a solemn, distant, and thoughtful look pass through his eyes for a split second, as if thinking of a past memory. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “It's too fucking hot here,” he hissed as he peeled off his leather jacket.

This action gave her the opportunity to see him in a short sleeved shirt, which displayed his pale yet muscular arms, which clearly were built strong out of continuous use and not for a mere decoration. The entirety of his left arm was inked with intricate black tattoos, all the designs of skulls, roses, and guns fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was understatement to say that she felt her ovaries explode at the sight.

Simon was intentional when he took off his jacket, although it was true that he did feel hot. A glance at her told him that she didn't seem to take notice of his muscles or his tattoos, a disappointment to him. But he wasn't keen enough to catch her quick, stealthy glances at his arms as her thoughts ran wild again in trying to be superfluous in her descriptions of them.

She couldn't help but think to herself that, “He'd make the perfect mysterious male lead of a dark romance.”

The tow truck arrived and before she knew it, she was Simon's passenger on his motorcycle, entrusted with his leather jacket. The two led the truck to the service center, and all the while, she was pressed against his warm back, highly conscious of the fact that the barrier between his back and her face was just a thin t-shirt and not a thick leather jacket like the first.

Her authorly brain couldn't help but turn this into a sort of metaphor. Was it a thinning of the barriers between him and her, now that they've been friends for over a month?

“Let's not overanalyze this, shall we?” she reminded herself, gently squeezing her arms around him as he sped down the roads, trying to ignore how she could feel the contours of his body under the thin fabric.

Fixing the car took a couple tedious hours, but Simon made sure to be with his friend throughout, explaining to her in excruciating detail whatever he could about the functioning of a car so that she would not be duped again. She appreciated his lectures and listened attentively, even though he wasn't the best at explaining things.

At the end of it all, the two sat down in her newly fixed car for some cold soda that she bought for him. The air conditioning was running well (Simon was relieved), and so was the radio, which was now tuned to a station softly playing some old timey American songs in the background.

“You were a great help,” she said as she cracked open the tab of the can as Simon did.

“My pleasure, love,” he raised his can and tapped it gently with her can. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she grinned, and then paused to look at him, wondering if he would remove his mask, as he had never done so in front of her before.

Simon found himself in a bit of a predicament as he stared at his can of soda. He was usually more mindful of his mask when he was with strangers and acquaintances, but with the fuss of the car and all his chatting with her, he completely forgot that drinking soda would have to make him take off the mask.

Would he remove his mask when he didn't yet want to, even though he wanted to share this drink with her? He glanced back at her and found her silently drinking her soda and staring ahead, pretending not to notice his mental debate.

Gaz's reprimand came to mind again, “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.”

He wasn't wrong. Now that Simon thought of it, the sooner he showed his marred face to her, the lesser it would hurt if she rejected him.

“Don't overthink it,” he told himself as he slipped his finger under the ear loop of his mask and pulled it over his ear, making the mask slip off to reveal the lower part of his face. He sat back, casually as he could, and took off the other ear loop so wouldn't awkwardly dangle from his other ear, all the while trying to ignore how naked he felt without the covering.

“Soda's pretty good, isn't it?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Hm, yes,” he answered in a murmur, now taking the first sip of his soda and pulling away the can for her to finally look at his face.

He saw her looking, and his heart rate spiked and cheeks flushed (thank heavens it was dark), waiting for a reaction from her.

She finally had the privilege of seeing his face, and in a split second, she tried to make the most of it. His face as a whole was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He had a rectangular face, high and prominent cheekbones; a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a light stubble across his jaw and cheeks.

He squirmed slightly in his seat and looked away, taking another sip. Seeing that he was uncomfortable being looked at, she too looked away, now feeling shy that she was in the presence of such a gorgeous man. Why on earth did he cover his face was a mystery to her.

She began, her voice unwittingly rising to a higher pitch, “Seriously though, I don't know how I went years without having anyone to consult me about cars.”

Simon blinked in surprise that she didn't make any comments on his face after looking at him, and wasn't sure whether to consider it a good thing or a bad thing. He decided to worry about it later.

“Not a single person?” he asked, instinctively and slightly leaning towards her as she spoke.

“Not one.”

“And did you never notice any problems with the car before we took it to be fixed today?”

“I did, and I wheeled the car off to the service center many times only to be shut down saying that it wasn't a big deal and it would resolve itself,” she shrugged.

“They said that? Fucking twats they all are,” said he with a low grumble.

“Unfortunately,” she shrugged again, watching how his lips curled upwards into a sneer of displeasure and how his nose crinkled along with it.

“Tell you what, darling,” Simon shifted in his seat slightly and held out his can-holding hand at her, flicking out his pointer finger to make a point, “you don't need to worry about those bastards when you got me, yeah? If you got any car problems, I'll fix them for you.”

He saw her eyes soften at this proposal, but she glanced away for a moment, as if considering it with some hesitation. He knew her just enough to know that she had trouble accepting help when she needed it. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed gently to encourage her,

“You know I'm a car mechanic, and a fucking good one too.” He sat back in the seat, now drowning the last of his soda. “You won't have to call anyone else when you have me. Just hit me up, and I'll be there…” he paused to meet her eye, hoping to let her know he was completely serious, “... Just like tonight.”

This didn't fail to cause a flutter in her chest. She smiled, genuinely warmed and touched by how eager he was to help. “Thanks, Simon.”

His cheeks raised up to his eyes as he smiled, and the lady was taken in by how sweet it was. Their eyes met again, and the two felt an undeniable tension in the air; sparks flying around them, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

The soft yellow headlights of a passing vehicle shone into the car, momentarily brightening up his pale face and his deep brown eyes into soft pools of honey. The light, for a brief moment, also revealed a prominent scar on his cheek, something that the earlier darkness hid from her sight.

Yet again did her authorly brain try to turn this moment into a metaphor. Was this gentle flash of passing light meant to shine upon a part of him behind his dark veil, his mask of mystery, to reveal bright, affectionate eyes, and a curious yet faint scar? Could this have been a sign of their ever growing closeness?

As the light passed, his honey eyes darkened again; they narrowed slightly and he leaned forward just a little, his breathing laboured, as if he wanted to say something. The lady squirmed in her seat and felt her chest tighten as she silently watched him, unable to look away.

“I was wondering…” he began, now pausing to inhale, “if we could hang out any time soon, just both of us,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could, and he quickly added, “I'm about to finish your novel, Firefly Trails, and I was hoping we could talk more about it…” he paused, feeling his entire body grow warm with nervous anticipation, “And maybe you could suggest some more books I could read.”

Her eyes lit up at this invitation. “Sure! I'd love to. When are you free?”

“I'm free this weekend.”

“Alright, that sounds good.” she grinned.

Simon was relieved to hear the eagerness in her voice, and took it that she still wanted something to do with him. The two went on to decide the particulars of the hangout for a while, until a phone call interrupted. Simon pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw who was calling.

“What do you want, Johnny?”

“Where are ye? Ye were s'posed to be at the gym thirty minutes ago. I'm waiting!” complained Johnny.

“Ah, blimey,” Simon shook his head, “Completely forgot. ____ had some car trouble so I went to help her out.”

Simon was met with teasing jeers from his friend, making him groan. “Wheesht!” Simon hissed, only for it to make Johnny cackle. “Look, I'll be right there. Give me…” he looked at his watch, “Fifteen minutes.”

“Make it quick lad, or you'll get a bollocking from me.”

“Fuck off now. You'll delay me.”

The call ended and Simon looked at her, sighing. “Gotta go,” he said.

A subtle pout pushed out her lower lip. “Too bad, and we were just starting to get into our planning too.”

He chuckled, feeling warmed by her sentiment. “Yeah, but don't worry darling, we have the entire week ahead of us to plan comfortably, yeah?”

She nodded, smiling.

“Right then,” he slapped his knees, “I'll see you around then, alright? You take care on your way back.”

“You too, Simon.”

He sighed, pausing for a moment to take in the way she said his name. He never wanted to admit it to her, but he loved every instance she uttered it. The way she'd drag out the first syllable a little, and look at him with those gorgeous, killer eyes of hers as she did; it was enough for a man of his size and strength to melt like a little cube of ice in the palm of her hand. A simple action, yet it riled him up enough to want to kiss the living hell out of her.

He inhaled, trying to get every carnal urge under control. “Text me when you reach, alright?” he said in a mildly strained voice.

“Sure, will do.” she nodded.

That being said and good-night's exchanged, Simon quickly put his mask back on, got out of the car, and threw the empty can in a bin. She watched as he made his way to his waiting motorcycle, observing his gait, the way his hips, shoulders, and arms moved in clockwork, relaxed but determined. She found herself leaning against the steering wheel again to stare at the way he hoisted up his leg and swung it in a smooth sweep over his motorcycle, and then settled down on the vehicle, making the shock absorbers bounce back slightly against his weight.

She gazed with interest as he put on his gloves and then grabbed the helmet, only to raise his chin up to let gravity comb his gorgeous blond hair down so that it stayed out of his way as he put the headgear. His biceps flexed and tightened against the short sleeve of his t-shirt, and even from a little distance away, she could see how his tattoos moved against the contours of his muscles like ocean waves.

He looked back at her and caught her staring. At the sight of her relentless gaze, all he could hear in his head was Gaz telling him to shoot his shot. Her smiles, her acceptance to meet again were, and especially her stating were all massive green lights for him, yet he was still in partial disbelief.

Meeting her eyes again gave him a jolt down his spine, and waved one last time before he left. She smiled sheepishly and waved back at him, blushing at the fact that she was caught.

He rode off, leaving her the echo of the roar of the engine, and she sat back in her driver's seat, finishing the last sips of the lukewarm soda in her hand that she completely forgot about. His figure receded in the distance and she remembered the first time she met him.

“He's been saving me since back then.” she chuckled to herself, feeling a little ashamed at how helpless she found herself to be. But she was more than grateful for his help, and for the fact that he never complained and was so eager to assist her. It was the third time he helped her out, and it was almost as if he'd come running back all over again if she called.

He certainly lived up to his name.

And then there was his face. She allowed her mind to wander as she thought of his rugged, masculine features; she didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly unexpected to find such a handsome man hiding under that mask. She could make out only a little in the partial darkness, of his rectangular face and sturdy, stubble-speckled jaw, and of the slope of his shapely, sharp nose. She sighed, suddenly longing to study his face in proper light, and perhaps get lost in his honey eyes.

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached to her backpack in the backseat for her phone, and found that Simon had left his leather jacket in the back when they had sat down in the front to drink their sodas.

��Better send him a text.” she thought to herself as she informed him.

That being done, she kept the phone aside and took the jacket to inspect it. It was obvious that it was made of faux leather, but it was smooth to touch. The lining inside was tartan patterned with dark green and blue, which seemed an odd choice for lining, but she wasn't one to judge. She held the garment against her torso, and as she expected, it was huge.

“Let's not get creepy with it, shall we?” she reminded herself, now keeping the jacket on her lap as she got the engine running again.

She drove back home with the jacket, repeatedly telling herself to not be creepy with it, only for her to immediately try it on as soon as she stepped in.

“It's so comfortable!” she exclaimed as she felt the loose jacket sag around her body and her arms. She stuffed her hands in the pockets and found that they were massive. “Unbelievable... they make men's clothes so much better.”

She pulled away the front of the jacket to feel the tartan lining, and it felt like touching a thick blanket. The jacket was perfect for a cold winter and for the rains that had been pouring lately.

She pulled it closer against herself, and the lingering scent of his perfume wafted to her nose. It was the same smell of a damp rainforest and dark chocolate, the scent of which immediately took her back to the day she met him.

"Is this what it would feel like to hug him?" she wondered, feeling her cheeks flush warm as she thought of the prospect of being held in those finely sculpted arms.

Her phone chimed, indicating a message.

Simon Riley Biker: sorry about that, can u keep the jacket with u until we meet again?

Simon Riley Biker: also have u reached?

She smiled and started typing her reply.

Author Girl: Sure!

Author Girl: And yes I did just now

Simon Riley Biker: right then, I'll catch you soon, ok? At the gym rn

Author Girl: okay! Have a good workout :)

Simon Riley Biker: thanks darling

On the other side of the phone, Simon was seated in the gym locker rooms by himself, phone in hand, thumbs dancing over the screen up and down as he wondered what he should type next. As he did, a new message came in.

Author Girl: thanks again for helping me out with the car. You saved me yet again

He chuckled at and started typing, the smile not leaving his half covered face.

Simon Riley Biker: my pleasure, don't worry about it. U can call me again if you have car problems

Author Girl: you're too kind 😂 but thanks a lot again

Simon Riley Biker: anytime darling

Author Girl: alright then, I'm gonna get some sleep. Good night!

Simon paused, feeling his heart rate increase for a moment as he thought of something he wanted to do. Swallowing down his nervousness, he did it anyway.

Simon Riley Biker: [audio: 0:03 seconds]

He never sent an audio message to her before, and wondering what he could have sent, held the phone speakers to her ear and played it.

“Good night, love,” came the crisp, clear audio recording in her ear. His normally gruff voice sounded subdued and gentle, smooth, almost oozing with a soft, subtle hint of adoration, especially at the endearment.

The lady was left stunned, mouth hanging open slightly and her feet affixed to the floor, unable to believe for a moment what she just heard. Butterflies and tingles swarmed every inch of her body, and her cheeks flushed yet again. She played it again. And again. And again.

Simon, in the meantime, worried about her lack of response, wondering if he was too bold in sending her a voice message. He finally saw that she was typing, and she sure did take a while to collect her thoughts to write a coherent and absolutely calm reply in the form of:

Author Girl: good night, Simon :)

The conversation ended there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. Standing up, he slipped his phone in his pocket and left to get to his workout done with Johnny, unable to stop thinking of her and her smiles.

In the meantime, she stepped into the bathroom for her night routine. Her thoughts too were filled to the brim with Simon while she bathed and did her simple skin care routine all on autopilot. Every other thing that happened during the day was completely overridden just by the presence of that biker, his voice, his warm gaze upon her, his smile, his face.

She couldn't shake off the feeling, especially of his voice message in her thoughts that played like a broken vinyl record. She was sure that every single interaction she had with him would make it into her next book in some form or other.

She slipped into her nightwear and then hung his jacket on the coat hook in the corner of her room, resisting the temptation to cuddle with the garment. She finally tucked herself in bed, surrounded by her cushions and plush animals. As soon as the night lamp was switched off and she had nearly sunk in and molded comfortably into her bed and pillows, she played the recording again, the cherry on top to end the long day.

“Good night, love.”

It felt like a kiss to the forehead.

End of Part 4.

Part 5

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