#I don’t think any NTs have ever been to my house

[kithtaehyung]

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

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

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

-

-

There’s no way.

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

“No fuckin’ way.”

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

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

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

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

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

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

“Play.” 

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

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

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

“And you’re paying me double.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

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

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

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

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

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

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

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

However. 

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

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

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

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

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

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

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you don’t like it one bit. 

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

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

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

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

“What?” 

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

“After what he did to you?” 

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

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

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

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

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

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

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

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

-

-

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

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

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

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

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure? That looked…”

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

Motherfucker. 

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

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

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

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

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

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

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

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

Weird. 

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

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

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

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

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

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

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

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

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

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what!”

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

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

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

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

“Stop and just think for a second—”

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

“Dumb as fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

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

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

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

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

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

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

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

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

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

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

“He was gonna—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

And you mean that. 

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

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

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

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

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

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

-

-

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

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

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

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

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

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

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

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

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

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

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

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

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

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

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

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

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

Finally. “Hello.” 

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

“You’re here?” 

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

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

“Not tonight.”

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

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

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

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

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

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

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

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

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

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

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

What did he do, what did he do?

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

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

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

Shit, this is everywhere. 

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

“Stop.”

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

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

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

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

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

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

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

It hurts.

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

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

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

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

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

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

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

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

One more. Two more. Another one here.

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

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

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

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

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

“I still need to—” 

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

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

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

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

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

“You think I’m joking?” 

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

“I say a lot of things.”��

…Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

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

“Do you even know?” 

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

“That’s cus—” 

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

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

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

Fine then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

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

“That’s what I said.” 

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

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

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

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

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

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

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

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

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

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

“Whoa, hold u—” 

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

“Just listen—” 

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

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

“I swear to—” 

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

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

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

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

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

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

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

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

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

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

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

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

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

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

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

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

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

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

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

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

This is liberation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t make me do shit—”

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

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

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

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

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

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

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

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

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

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

“Asshole—” 

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

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

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

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

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

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

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

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

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

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

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

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

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

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

Every. Single. Time. 

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

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

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

“Do it yourself then.” 

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

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

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

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

“Nah.” 

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

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

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

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

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

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

“Then fucking come.” 

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

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

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

“I said again.” 

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

“Yoongi—” 

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

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

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

“Baby.” 

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

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

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

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

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

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

“There you go. Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

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

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

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

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

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

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

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.” 

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

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

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

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

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

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

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

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

“How about we share it.” 

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

“Okay.” 

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

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

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

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

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

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

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scroll, scroll. 

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

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

Scroll, scroll. 

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

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

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

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

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

His eyes. 

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

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

“I love you, doll.”

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

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

No. 

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

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

What?

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

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

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

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

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

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

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

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

He loves you.

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

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

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

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

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

“It’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

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

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

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

“What—”

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

Again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

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

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

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

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

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

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

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

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

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

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

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

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

All of you.

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

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

Every single stop.

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

Swelling, you already feel close. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

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

Yoongi only grins. 

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

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

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

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

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

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

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

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

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

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

Never close enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi…”

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

“Then… Those three months…”

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

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

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

Oh. That’s news to you. 

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

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

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

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

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

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

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

“What if he does?”

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

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

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

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

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

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

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

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

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

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

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

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

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

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

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

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

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

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

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

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

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

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

“You love it.” 

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

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

“Guess what.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can!” 

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

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

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

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…What?

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

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

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

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

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

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

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

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

-

tbc. :)

-

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

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

#AHHH it's finally here! #bts fic #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts fanfic #ryenwrites #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #3tan12 #*latest

[longhomes]

Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper

#Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper pro#

#Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper windows#

This process never really worked well, as the defrag app tended to start and stop a lot, leaving the defrag in varying states of completion and in the end (I think, at least) causing more fragmentation than it resolved. The defrag would stop once you started using the PC, it finished, or another processor intensive task kicked off, again, which ever came first. In many cases, this meant running an NT based service that monitored downtime, and then kicked off a defrag after a set period of idle time had been reached or during the middle of the night, which ever came first. In the past, many different apps, Diskeeper included, tried to defrag your drive in the background. However, if it takes forever to defrag your somewhat fragmented (5-7%) 250GB hard drive, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you do and you give the app a shot, I’d love to hear back from you on how things went.

#Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper pro#

Unfortunately, I can’t test this out with Diskeeper Pro Premier 2008, as I don’t have a value-based PC in the house. In my experience, running previous versions of Diskeeper on any value-based PC with less than 512MB of RAM was painful and not recommended. You should (realistically) have, at a minimum, a PC running XP/Vista with 512MB of RAM and a 2.0 GHz processor. While Diskeeper Pro Premier 2008 will run on any XP compatible or Vista capable PC, in my opinion, its designed for high end computer systems. For the less experienced user, it’s exactly what the non-techie type of computer user needs. A defrag tool really, at the end of the day, should be a “set it and forget it” kind of tool and that is EXACTLY what Diskeeper 2008 Pro Premier is. What’s even more important, I shouldn’t have to. Some of these technologies provided better results than others and honestly, I really don’t remember what they were or what they were called. With the older tools, there were a number of different methods used to defrag hard drives. Is it the tool for you? Let’s take a quick peek and see… Lately, I’ve been using Diskeeper’s 2008 Pro Premier product and I have to say, I am very pleased. Honestly, I’ve bounced back and forth between a couple different tools based on industry input and reviews, and with the implementation of different technologies. Norton Defrag doesn’t work with any modern OS, and hasn’t since, I think 1997-98.

#Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper windows#

With the introduction of large capacity hard drives and the evolution of MS operating systems with the introduction of Windows XP, defrag tools have also evolved. It did everything that I needed it to do, including consolidating my directories, without having to boot to a command prompt but alas, those days are long gone. In fact, I believe that Stacker, a drive compression tool that provided real time, data compression and decompression (effectively doubling the size of your drive…) of data on your drive ended up using an embedded version of Norton’s defrag utility. I remember back in the day, the only tool that I knew of that actually had a defrag tool of any real value was Norton Utilities.

#Disk defragmenter windows xp lenovo diskkeeper

[duckymcdoorknob]

OML DUCKY YOUR EVENT IS SO CUTE DSFUKHSD!! could I order a box decorated with wrapping paper, with oval shaped dark chocolate(Sugawara ofc) with oreo and pecans! tyyy <3 (I THINK I DID THIS RIGHT-)

YES YOU CAN!!!!!!

AND YOU DID PERFECT THABJ YOU FOR DA ORDER

This is the first scenario that came into my mind Sorry if this isn’t what you’re looking for exactly 💀

Is this self projection? Probably.

CW: reader loses a longtime friend :(

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 ❤︎

As your best friend walked straight past you in the hallway, ignoring your greeting, you had begun to sense that something was wrong. They had never done this before… were they mad at you? What had you possibly done?

You shrugged it off and continued about with your day.

When classes switched, you stood side by side at your lockers, wordlessly exchanging materials. Your usual stupid conversations were no where to be found.

This went on, day after day.

You figured that they were just upset with life at that moment, so you gave them the benefit of the doubt.

Until one day when you were at your lockers…

You tried to get them to hold a conversation with you but they ignored every word you said. When someone they swore you two would never be friends with came over, they immediately lit up and walked away with them.

So it was your fault?

That’s great…

You immediately cut yourself off from everyone, including the volleyball club. You stayed put in your house, not even bothering to come to school that week. You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and tried to fill that void with some temporary amusement.

While scrolling aimlessly through social media, you stumbled upon your best friend’s newest post.

Them and the person you both swore was bad news.

You had been replaced.

You broke down into tears, choking on your own sobs. You threw your phone across the room, hopefully causing it to break.

A gentle rapping at your door broke you from your self-hatred moment…

“S’unlocked.” You murmured, hiccuping shortly after.

The door opened slowly, revealing a cheerful Sugawara.

“(Y/N)! It’s been a while since you were at school, so I stopped by coach’s store to get you some soup in case if you were sick.” He chimed, looking at the floor and removing his shoes, “It’s your favorite ki-“

When he met your eye, his eyebrows furrowed into a look of despair. He set his belongings down on your table and raced to the couch.

When Suga brought you into his arms, you let loose all of your pent up emotions.

“What’s going on?” He whispered, rubbing your back slowly.

“I-I’ve been replaced.” You managed to mumble breathily.

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“Check (Name)’s story.”

He took his phone out and opened up to the social media app, immediately closing it upon seeing the photo.

“Please don’t leave me…” you whisper, “I-I know I’m n-not good enough but… I just ca-nt do this a-alone.”

The silver-haired setter pulled back from the hug and looked you square in the eye, “I know you’re having a self-loathing moment right now, but that isn’t true whatsoever. It’s clear that (Name) was manipulated by them. Isn’t that the one person you both agreed was bad news?”

You nodded gently, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from crying any more.

“(Y/N)… take my hand.” He demanded in a soft tone, “I’m not ever leaving you.”

You obliged and laced your fingers with his. He gently squeezed your hand, then rubbed his thumb along the base of your own.

“Let’s get our minds off of this.” He cupped your cheek, rubbing away the tears that continued to fall on that side.

“That soup smells really nice, Suga.” You murmured, smiling just a bit.

“Then, let’s eat.”

❣︎𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡❣︎

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader imagine #haikyuu comfort #Suga #Suga x reader #koshi sugawara x reader #Sugawara x reader #Sugawara imagine #Suga imagine #Koushi sugawara x reader #Suga comfort #Sugawara comfort #Koushi sugawara imagine #Sugawara koushi x reader #anime #anime comfort #comfort #cutesy confections

[lottiebagleywritesobx]

Love Language

At the time they'd made it the language had felt like no one would ever be able to understand it.

They were only 9 and JJ had been granted permission to stay at her house, her parents used to be around a lot, although they weren't anymore, and they'd always welcomed her blonde best friend leading to his near constant presence at their home.

It was late for two kids, maybe 10 pm, and they'd been wrapped in blankets in her box sized room that felt so much bigger when they were young.

They always got each other in a way no one else understood for reasons way more complex than a secret language they would use to write each other messages, but at 9, all they needed to know was that the language was another thing that tied them together.

It was simple: to spell a word you combine the first letters of the other words.

So to write Hello  you would write Hungry Elephants Love Lollipops Okay

It had stuck a lot at first, they used it everyday and it drove Pope and John B insane, but as they got older it died out.

It was used a few times at 12 when they had an annoying teacher who made students read notes out if they were caught passing them, to everyone else it sounded like gibberish.

It was used once at 15, the world help spelled out when an older Kook boy wouldn't leave her alone and she knew he was reading her phone screen over her shoulder, not wanting to trigger him.

Now, at 17, she had laughed out loud when she'd unfolded the note tucked into her locker.

In JJ's scrawl that only she could read with ease.

 Ukraine

Rollercoaster

Penguin Ranch Eyelash Tractor Tangerine Yoghurt

You are pretty. She blushed a little, looking around for any sign of the familiar blonde boy but he was nowhere to be seen, she tucked the note into her bag, hating the way he made her heart race, before shoving the books she didn't need over the weekend into her locker and walking down the corridor and out of the front doors.

When she arrived at the twinkie her friends were already there "Took your time," John B smirks from his open window, occupying the front seat

"She was probably busy flirting with Mack," Sarah teases from the passenger side

"For the last time Sarah, he just needed tutoring in bio,"

"You are shit at bio," Sarah smirks even wider

"Better than you sweetheart," The girl grins, climbing into the back and diving out of Sarah's reach as she moves to try and flick her. Both girls laughing loudly

"I'll get the door then," Pope chides

"Thanks P, i can't get too close  or Sarah will attack me," She grins, Pope rolls his eyes but sends her a grin as he leans forwards to pull the door to the twinkie closed.

She moves through the seats to her usual space, she always sat next to JJ, no matter what. They could be drinking at the chateau, relaxing at the beach, adventuring on the boat. No matter what they were next to each other. It wasn't uncommon when one of them was feeling tired, or clingy, or touch starved for her to end up in his lap, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin on her shoulder.

She leans up pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, it wasn't uncommon in their friendship, often used as a greeting, a thanks or even just out of the blue, and so the other's don't think anything of it even though JJ feels himself melting into a puddle. What is a little different though is the way she grabs his hand giving it a tight squeeze before pulling her own away and settling down in her seat as John B starts up the van. He knows what it is. It's a silent thanks for the note, not wanting to say anything in front of their friends but it was a sign she got it and she was grateful for it.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, his touch gentle but Pope gives him a knowing look, the touch is supposed to claim her. She either doesn't notice or  doesn't seem to mind though, instead leaning into his now open side as she chats happily with Kie.

**

It's monday morning and JJ is in first period history. He fucking hates history, yet, it had become his favourite subject simply because it was the only one all 6 pogues shared. He opens his school bag with sigh, placing the textbook on his desk and starting to fish around the bottom of the bag for a loose pen.

Pope turns around from the seat in front of him, placing a pen on his desk with a knowing smile. JJ drops his bag to the floor, opening the text book only for a note to fall out.

Her neat writing fills the page and the smile on his face is immediate.

Umbrella

Rocket

Happy Ant Neck Drop Surf Olive Mars Egg

JJ tries to ignore the feeling of a red hot blush creeping up his neck as he turns to look at the next desk along, she's already looking at him with a smirk shooting him a week before turning to face the front, god if JJ can't feel himself falling.

**

It continues for weeks.

Tucked into the wind screen wiper of her old shitty truck.

Taped to the sandwiches she would bring him to lunch.

On her pillow when she went to bed one night.

Stuffed into the pocket of the hoodie she borrowed.

Her school bag.

The bathroom mirror at the chateau.

They both started to home a large collection of notes. Her's placed neatly in a drawer in her bedroom. His tucked in a box under the floor board that lifts up in the room he claims as his at the chateau.

**

"What you writing?" John B questions as he steps onto the porch

"Just a note for y/n,"

"You guys have been passing a lot of secret notes recently," John B comments, JJ shrugs placing the pen down "It's sweet,"

"What d'ya mean by that?" JJ questions, John raises his eyebrows giving JJ a knowing look before having a realisation.

"You still haven't told her you're head over heels in love with her?"

"No," JJ admits, he was way past his days of fighting back when his friends accused him of being in love with her. "I don't know how to. You know me, I never say things right and I just- I really don't want to fuck this up. Only got one shot at it,"

"So write it," John B shrugs like it's obvious

"I can't,"

"You can,"

"What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"JJ, you're the most annoying person I know and she puts up with you all the time and has done since you were 2 . She feels the same,"

**

She's only wearing a bikini and a tshirt that belongs to JJ when she exits her house on Saturday morning. Her plans to meet at the Chateau go surfing with Kie already made, she grabs her board and at first she doesn't even notice it, attached to the cool box full of water and fruit she'd loaded up the night before is a note.

Ice

Art Magic

Igloo Note

London Orange Venus Elephant

Wine Ill Tiger Hungry

Yam One Under

It takes less than a minute for her to decipher the note, abandoning her surf board and the cooler in favour of sprinting to the Cheateau.

JJ is seemingly waiting for her when she arrives, he's pacing in front of the house, going still the second he sees her.

"Are you kidding?" She questions, he's stares, eyes wide not quite able to process why she looks so hopeful. "Because JJ, if this is some fucked up joke I will literally never speak to you again,"

"It's not a joke," He assures

"It's not?" She questions, it's het turn to still, having expected to arrive for him to laugh and ruffle her hair like he was her brother.

"No. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since we were 12 and you stole my cap and started wearing it everyday,"

"We were 14 and you snuck into my room because my parents were fighting and you read harry potter to me cause you knew my parents used to," She states

He nods, now it was all out there in the open neither of them quite knew what to do.

"For fucks sake kiss already!" Pope shouts, they turn seeing all the pogues watching them from the porch.

JJ looks at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Just promise me if this all goes tits up we will be friends, cause I can't loose you maybank,"

He holds his pinky out, smiling as she loops her with his and squeezes slightly. He pulls her into his chest with their pinkies. Lips crashing onto hers, spare holding her closer to him by the small of her back. Her empty hand moving to play with the blonde curls she's wanted to run her fingers through a thousand times. Their pinkies stay linked by their side, his thumb stroking at her hands lightly.

Yeah, she'd be keeping the note he left in there little love language.

#jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #obx fic #obx #outer banks

[deviliciousdev]

appreciation post for the types✨

from your local intp🖤

------------------------

✨The Sensors✨

estj (the executive)

Oh the executive, the most organized and loud boss bitch to ever exist. You cut through the bullshit and do not let anything stand in your way. And yet, like you're intuitive counter part (entj) you are quite sensitive if and when something hurts your feelings. Even though you're an expert at being all business during business hours, you still know how to have fun. and omg you have such a dorky sense of humor and love random facts, we love that. you are/can/will be a great leader/parent. All in all you are THEE boss and everyone knows it. keeping leading and kicking ass. 👏🏼

estp (the entrepreneur)

i absolutely adore estp's. you are the epitome of one of my fav character arcs. which is the charismatic rogue, who possibly drinks a lil more than they should, but can handle their liquor like a sailor (amazingly). you never back down from a challenge. you are so fun and wild in a han solo type of way, that just makes everyone want to be around you. but the best thing about you, is the way (deep down & to those you let close know) you are actually such a sweetheart. you would get hit by a bus trying to rush to make sure a friend is ok. you would take a bullet for any of your loved ones and let them cry on your shoulder. you're secretly the white knight but you're happy to let everyone think you're just the brash rogue. you're one of my best friends and someone i will adore with all my heart till the end of time.💕

p.s if you don't have an estp in your life, get one ASAP. they are a necessity for a complete friend group.

istj (the logistician)

oof, yes istj's. so sublet in their charm, and ready to die for what they believe in. i love the istj because you have two of an intp's fav qualities at your core. badassery & humility. you're like this pillar of certainty. even if you are uncertain about something, no one would ever be able to tell. you have a way of decision making that's not loud or overwhelming. which is why intp's love when you plan things.  you're also quiet at first, but if you're challenged, you would never let someone walk all over you or something/someone that matters to you. i also love that you're one of the types (alongside infp & entj) that is sooo funny and goofy when you're drunk. like a lil toddler. #adorable

istp (the engineer)

ahhhh, the intp's sensing counter part. istp's fucking rule. truly. you believe in many of the same principles intps do. the main one being, keeping an open mind without fore fitting you're own beliefs. your exterior calm and collected nature makes you cool af. AND you also have such a FANTASTIC sense of sarcastic humor. like yes bitch. i love the way intps are the idealists and istps are the doers. if an istp and intp got together, ooof the world better beware the chaos that would ensue. also you guys have thee COOLEST fictional characters. the first one that always comes to mind is Arya Stark from Game of Thrones. like suchhhhhhh a badass who also roasts literally EVERY single person in that show no matter if it's the fucking leader of the house you're at war with. out of all the types i think you would be the best assassin. to sum up i think the word i always relate to you is... cool. 😎 like plain and simple. 💀🤘🏼

p.s let's be partners in crime. 😁🚨🚓

esfj (the consul)

ok, ok, so first things first, because you are so opposite of the intp, i know we can butt heads sometimes. the main reason this happens is because nt's will see you're want to make others happy as a negative. HOWEVER, as i have gotten to know and respect an esfj as they are a part of my family (irl). i can say that the perceived notion of esfj's wanting to please everyone to get them to like them is a bit misguided. while esfjs DO want everyone to be happy, it's not always about being the popular kid. it's actually because they care about others. AND not just others but like situations. they really care if a party or a dinner is going smoothly. because they want events and people to have an enjoyable time and be happy. so esfj's I SEE YOU. and i genuinely appreciate how much you care about even the smmmmallest things. you are very dependable and high key you've taught me a lot. like how/why it's important to always say please and thank you. and you showed me that having emotions (like being nervous) isn't a weakness and it actually shows us what's important. esfj's are HIGHLY underrated, and much more wise than anyone gives you credit for.

p.s you are so much fun to prank and you always give as good as you get. 🤘🏼

esfp (the entertainer)

holy shit. that's all i can think when i think of the memories we share. we somehow bring out the worst/best in one another. you and infp are the ones i tell first when i get good news because i know you'll hype me the fuck up. we have sooooooooooo much fun together. you are so absolutely awesome and one of my best friends in the whole wide world. if i have a passing random idea, YOU WILL DO IT. i can be like "wouldn't it be funny if someone got on the hood of the car and twerked" and you're hilarious crazy ass will literally jump out of the car and do it. just because it's funny. you can party soooo hard, like rockstar level. you 100% need you're own reality show. your presence makes my introverted self feel more confident even when i'm at my lowest. with all that chaotic-ness said, you are actually a REALLY good parent/s.o?? such a crazy bitch, but also wife material?? like are you real?? anywayyyyy, just wanna say esfp's are the bad bitches of the types (no gender intended, bitches is gender neutral). and i can't wait for our next adventure. 🤩💜

isfj (the defender)

ok so even though you're a feeling type, i would have to say you're the most logical out of ALL the feeling types. i think it comes from you're mama bear (no specific gender intended) core. you don't put up with anyone's shit when it comes to those you care about. and dayummm will you fuck someone up (metaphorically and literally) if they come for your loved ones. you are VERY intelligent and people often underestimate you. the word that comes to mind when i think about isfjs is... resolve. your resolve in the face of hardship is so inspiring and something to be feared. i really love the way you seem so chill and even sweet and gracious and then it's like... oh fuck mamas here... but you don't even have to raise your voice to get your point across. like the istj, you've got a certainty and loyalty that intp's lovvveee. we never have to guess where you're loyalties are, because you don't just say, you show, through real actions. and we love that. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🐻

isfp (the adventurer)

oh the isfp, no one and i mean no one can match the intp's weird out of the box thinking like you. can. you view the world in SUCH a unique way. you not only see things in deep meaningful aesthetics, but you make them a reality. you love to push the envelope of what are perceived social normals. and we lovvvvvvve that shit. you're life can be so out there, but you still respect and can make friends with just about anyone. you're so sweet and creative. and you always show me something sooooo interesting. a hidden gem, a beautiful view spot, a hole in the wall place to eat. you've got that thing that xntp's sort of fall head over heels for, but in a subtle way to where we don't even realize it. and you can make time the illusion it actually is, not even noticing that we've been hanging out for like 12 hours, because it felt like 30 minutes. and omg talk about talented! anything that requires creativity you are always so good at, like wtf?? 😂👏🏼 i will end this by saying; you're simultaneously the most tranquil yet exciting person i've ever met. and truly one of a kind. keep doing exactly what you're doing and i can't wait to see what you come up with next.

p.s you are my top choice, to go to Bali & Tulum with✨🤍☯️

#mbti #appreciation post #based on people i know irl #16 personalities #mbti humor #mbti memes #sensors #estj #estp #istj #istp #esfj #esfp #isfj #isfp #entj #entp #intj #intp #infj #infp #enfp #enfj #miss my isfp #they live far away #thankfully my esfp lives 4 mins away #mbti things #mbti shit post #mbti friendships #mbti relationships

[asmolemmeeatyouout]

The boys with Autistic! MC! part two ! SFW

(Bc I’m self indulgent and like 5 ppl wanted it so yesyesyes)

(Had my first proper spoonie day in a while today so imma finish this after what 4 months? Whoopsie. Sorry if any of the points overlap I’ve not re read my last post, please shoot me an ask if you want anything clarified/expanded on !)

Lucifer:

Has to stop his brothers from constantly bothering you when you’re overwhelmed (they’re just worried)

You very quickly learn his office is the safest place to be when overwhelmed due to the dim lighting and the brother deterring curse on his doorway

He has a record player and SO much classical music for when you need background noise

This leads to impromptu slow dancing when you insist he needs a break and there’s music playing

If you have your own records, the *smoother ones will end up mixed in with his

*smoother as in less staccato /distracting because he is most likely working

Very much enjoys spending time in silence with you, he finds it comfortng to just exist with someone without having anything needed of him

Especially if you’re both doing your own thing, like you just being in the room with him (playing a game or reading or smthn) while he does his paperwork is so soothing to him

Mammon:

Have you seen his horns? They’re so smooth and shinyyy, a+++ stimming material

He loves head pats so he’ll willingly put his head in your lap when you watch movies

he’s very proud of his demon form but also kind of shy so it’ll take some coaxing to get him to let you touch his horns but when he sees how content it makes you? It’s his new favourite hobby letting you play with his hair and horns during movies

(That said they’re very sensitive (like him) so be gentle)

He WILL adopt your love language and mannerisms:

if you bump people he will start knocking into you constantly, (wrists, hips, shoulders, head, any and all on random repeat)

if you like to collect and give things to people he will a. Hoard them in a little shrine (that he Denys. having) and b. Start looking for things he can give you back

If you rub textures you like you’ll find him stroking your arms/face/jumper right back (sometimes with his face, but only ever in private because he feels vulnerable using such a soft form of affection)

Levithian:

You cannot tell me this man isn’t autistic

Communication is SO! EASY!

Then even If you don’t understand you can just ask. You can just ask and he’ll tell you. None of this ‘figure it out yourself’ nt bullshit

Our baby has anxiety anyway so he’s probably ‘over’ explained it before you can say anything

(Over explained in the sense of nt, personally I love it when ppl get really detailed)

In that case he gets embarrassed about how much he’s talking so it’s your turn to reassure him that he’s not boring you

The solace you get in realising you like all of his autistic traits soothes your own insecurities

That being said your anxiety (if you have it) is matchy matchy so don’t expect him to talk to the cashier for you

He’s very chill with you being non verbal because either he’s absorbed in his own game/anime/show or it means there’s more room for him to talk about his interests

That being said if your special interests/ hyperfixations don’t line up on any given day? The bickering over who’s turn it is to infodump gets intense (this is the one source of all your arguments)

All the other brothers are kind of terrified/jealous of your relationship, especially when they see you talking about a shared special interest because you talk rapid fire and very in-depth. to them it’s almost like you’re talking in code or another language because they know all the individual words but what the everloving fuck are you on about

Asmodeus:

Has specific outfits he wears when he wants you to hug him (which is always). They’re made out of the softest material, or any clothing of his you’ve expressed a texture interest in.

Finds it so amusing when you come rushing over to rub your face against his chest bc mmmmm softsoftsoft

Likes to text you in the morning to see how you’re feeling (and how sensory sensitive you are because god forbid his outfit with chains and jangles stops him from seeing you)

Understands better than Anyone that affection and love can be shown in a whole barrage of ways not just physically

Figures out how you show affection faster than any of the other brothers

Immediately starts reciprocating it (partly bc he’s selfishly trying to make you love him most)

Satan:

Will learn about your special interests so he can engage you on the topic

Is the ONLY person in the house you can talk about any special interest with, no matter how niche because he loves learning (although he does prefer the *academic* side of them rather than pop culture but he will listen to both)

*academic* as in something involving learning about something or crafting or *how* to do something, not just like, maths

You’re pretty much the only person who can keep up with him in terms of knowledge and enthusiasm (even if it’s only for very specific things) and thus you become the person he talks to about his interests

Originally kind of annoyed by how absentminded you are (because you forget several dates) but once you get settled into a routine he starts to find it cute how habitual you are, and then realises it could work to his advantage.

He then schedules a date into your weekly routine (or biweekly depending on your energy levels) so you start to get upset if it’s missed bc it’s part of your routine. (Satan is ridiculously smart and is very much willing to manipulate your routine to his (and yours) advantage, he is a demon after all)

Beelzebub:

Gives the best squishes. He’s just so big he can literally envelope you (in other news he is terrified of hurting you so he’s very nervous at first, he’s used to huggin ppl very gently bc he is a muscle mountain)

Maybe don’t use chew stims around him (unless he’s eating) because seeing you use them will either make him hungry, or he’ll ask to see it and oops it’s been swallowed hope you didn’t want that back (he’s very apologetic he really didn’t mean to but it was in his mouth and chewed before he could think)

Literally the kindest man in the universe, if you have issues with shame or *guilt* (especially if it creeps outta nowhere or it relates to not being able to do something) he will a. Reassure you and give you cuddles until you feel okay (or one on one bonding time if you’re too touch sensitive) then b. Go help with whatever task was too much so you don’t have to worry

Belphagor:

Have I mentioned the stuffies? This boy definitely has a stash of soft toys that all have names and personalities. This originally stemmed from the fact he was locked alone in an attic for a year, he needed some form of company or he was gonna go crazy, and sleeping alone is meh in his opinion. But then he became attached and after you showed him yours? And you weren’t ashamed of your teddy bears or how much you loved them he confided in you about his. (And you had a tea party)

Problems sleeping ? (Me too bud it’s 3.44 am lol) nonononno baby boy has got you, just snuggle up to him and you’ll be snoozing in no time (I HC that being around belphagor just makes you a little sleepy and the longer you’re there the stronger the urge to sleep gets)

You’re at rad (or out in public and can’t leave) and get overstimmed? Belphie has got you! He keeps sunglasses on him so he can secretly sleep when he’s not supposed to. Also (imo) he’s the king of hoodies, both his main outfits have a hood (and you can’t convince me he doesn’t wear one of them over his uniform as soon as lucifer dips), my boy will slip his hoodie on you and wrap you in a hug to get you away from the noise/sights

(I am now too tired to write anymore, hope yall enjoyed!)

#obey me #obey me hcs #obey me autistic mc #autistic mc #mammon hc #belphagor hc #lucifer hc #asmodeus hc #satan HC #beelezebub hc #leviathan hc

[sly-merlin]

okey dokey! I'm gonna be a father!

Requesting pregnant reader scenarios, wanna see more of the guys’ duality balancing domesticity and impending fatherhood, and running the world, ya know 🙏🏾😎🤔😀 Just throwing the idea out there since you said we could. Y’know things like ‘I’m trying to leave to set up a meeting but her back is sore & she wants ice cream so one of u needs to suddenly be available. now’ & other things ig. I imagined Ty Kun, John Jae or Kun in as leader & probably hc or jaemin as the wife-sitters (lol)

Since you didn’t specify the unit,I did this with the few members from hyung line. This got so long that I ran out of ideas so let me know if you want me to write for some other members.  though j incorporated your ideas but i based it on the concept of them managing the treats in both hands. This is my first time doing reactions so leave some feedback if you wish! Have a nice day everybody.

(7 members) Ft. Taeil, johnny, taeyong, yuta, ten, jaehyun + kun

TAEIL 

"Let me message you back!" Taeil whispered into the phone and raised his body to observe your sleeping form. Your head was securely resting on his arm and he let out a relieved sigh as it was one of the few Lucky days when you were not thrashing around in your sleep. Day after day, you were getting uncomfortable with your heavy belly and all he could ever do was keep you company in your frustrations. He couldn't risk waking you up so he tried his best to complete the task in the painful position. He fidgeted with the phone for it was impossible to handle a 6 inch of metal device with one hand. Struggling with the grip for a few more seconds, he finally managed to send johnny a message regarding the inquiry.

Ask tae He has ab eztra key 2 my ofice.

Maybe he should turn his autocorrect on for situations like this!

Thinking his work was done, he locked the phone. just when he was about to put it on the nightstand on a blind guess, it vibrated again! 

John: He is out! You need to come asap.

He stopped to watch out for any movement from your side and when there was none, he shifted to his phone again.

Nt my pblm. 

He couldn't understand why johnny was being so persistent when everyone was under strict orders to not call him after 10 p.m unless someone was dying!

John: Jungwoo is in trouble with police. I need his fake ID!

Taeil’s scoffed a bit too loudly causing you to stir.  He paused in his actions only to continue when he noticed your even breathing. Weighing the options, he concluded that Jungwoo must have forgotten to pay for the food again or something like that otherwise if it was work related then johnny would have been screaming at his door and not through the phone.

Not his 1st time. dw too much. Jst send him some food so he wont cry like last tym.

He deserved that much punishment! With that he switched the device off and wrapped his arm around your waist, returning to the warmth he got to experience only at night times.

JOHNNY

You were on edge since the day you got yourself tested. You could blame it on the suddenly changing hormones or the never present johnny but one thing was sure that you were missing him more than ever. Johnny on the other hand, avoided going back home for the sole reason of finding himself incapable of taking care of you and his dangerous job. That’s why he had assigned hendery to be at your beck and call. He was a medic and since the other medical emergencies could be handled by xiaojun and renjun, hendery had no problem in spending some time with you. His company was full of funny stories of other members and silly jokes. Despite his endless efforts to distract you, the thought that your daughter’s father was missing the growth of his own child always remained at the back of your head. You couldn’t understand how all of a sudden his workload had increased so much that he barely had any time to even see your face let alone talk to you for a few minutes. But all your worries vanished the day he returned and sarcastically ordered hendery to show his donkey self out of his house to never come back again.

“I managed to prepone some important weapon deals”, he bowed gracefully to acknowledge his own achievements, making you chuckle at him, “and I’ve been rewarded with three months of holidays so I shall be spending these months making up for the lost time and creating new memories” he completed, kissing your forehead.

"I never said I need you 24/7. A few hours at most would do John" you said, knowing how his absence would affect the black neos. 

"Yeah. But then I realised what if my baby girl mistakes hendery for her father. Can't let that happen now yeah!" 

Masked under jokes, you were very well aware of the real reasons behind the toil he had subjected himself to! It was all for you and your baby girl and you knew he would do it again and again even if it meant the end of his life!

TAEYONG

 From sharp cold deadly glare to the dragon tattoo that adorned his neck and arms, fellow criminals had every reason to fear this man. His name, in the underworld, screamed  cursed royalty. But that was Lee taeyong, leader of black neos.

The taeyong standing right in front of you, struggling with multiple boxes of boards was anything but scary. Cladded in baby blue hoodie and black boxers, he was reading the manual, knocking down the structure again and again as he repeatedly found something missing from it. 

"Leave it tae. I can complete this later on. Come and eat now." You whined and suggested while taking bites from the creamy pasta he had prepared earlier. 

"what do you mean i can complete this later on. Do you find me incapable of making a crib?"

Yes you did!

But that was not the answer you could give when he was clearly trying his hardest. It was indeed baffling as to why the man who could assemble a weapon with his left hand was unable to join the pieces of a crib with both!

"No tae. You were out for three days so maybe you are just too tired to concentrate!" You explained in the politest way possible that clearly didn't reach him properly. He let out an audible gasp at what felt for him to be the accusatory tone.

"Eat your pasta and watch me complete this in half an hour! You'd regret saying that to me!"

Why was he the one with mood swings?

Just like other bubbling thoughts, you gulped down this one too and nodded enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up as if you would never doubt his capabilities.

But you knew, he might have started the task but he was surely not going to be the one to complete it!

YUTA

“How about sakura?” hyuck suggested. Looks of disapproval were exchanged across the room and sound of mark hitting hyuck’s arm resonated in the living room.

“Cliche!” jaehyun laughed.

“Yes. We aren't naming our daughter sakura and that is final. She’s one of a kind and her name should also be!” you announced your arrival in the room and sat on the floor, making yourself comfortable between yuta’s legs. He wrapped his arms around your belly before leaning his neck to greet you with a sweet cheek kiss.

“Yes. What y/n wants, y/n gets. No sakura!” he held his one hand up in the air, forbidding any further discussion on the name.

"That's not fair!" Hyuck whined only to be dismissed by a wave from you.

"Just because it's not hyuck's choice doesn't mean that you have got right to choose by yourself. The baby is a part of this family so we get to decide what's best for her!" Ten exclaimed loudly getting everyone’s attention.

“How about ayaka?” kun suggested, entering the room with a trolley full of snacks. As the recommendations poured in, the snacks were passed to everyone. Days like these were rare and from the past two months, these rare days were spent daydreaming about the very first child in the black neos house.

“Akira? It’s quite universal you know.” mark joined in, reading the meaning of the name in different cultures and languages.

“Haru”

“No kai!” 

Somewhere in the conversation, yuta’s hands had travelled from your tummy to your sides. He knew the little brushes of his fingers had started to work on you as you swatted his hand away with yours. It only encouraged him and he tickled you on your sides more and more, getting the desired reaction. Your body being more sensitive and responsive than usual, you wiggled in his arms and squealed loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. Suddenly his hands stopped as he heard a whiny shout.

“Why are you bugging her?” hyuck hollered, “can’t you sit still for once? Let her breathe for a freaking second. You wanna tickle! Tickle me. Come tickle me but Don’t bother her!” 

You were aware of hyuck’s sudden outbursts of protection for you but this was truly something new! And you new tickles were not the reasoning behind his irritation. Sakura was!

“Le-let’s play a game”, kun interrupted before haechan’s frustration would land him into some trouble with the elder, “we’ll write all the suggestions into paper and whichever y/n chooses would be final. How does it sound?” 

Everyone hummed along to the idea. Looking over at Hyuck, you noticed a sudden glint in his eyes that spoke trouble. He was clearly planning something evil and until it was all fun and games, you had no trouble for his intentions.

“Since when did you get a bodyguard hmm?” yuta whispered, planting another wet kiss on your right cheek. 

“Yua.” you said.

“What?”

“We are naming her yua! When are you gonna tell them that i’ve already decided!” leaning backwards, you said in a hushed voice meant only for his ears.

“When they are tired enough to play any more games. Till then, let’s have fun. Look at hyuck, he’s surely gonna cheat and mark and renjun are going to strangle him.” yuta chuckled against your ear, making you laugh again. Life was good!

TEN

“Xiaojun! Xiaojun! Show yourself you good for nothing potato!” you winced at the volume of ten’s voice. Even though he was outside the room, his vocals were irritating. But you held your tongue from scolding him as he was the only one you could rely on at the moment. 

“Xia-

“Did bella bite you again? why are you shouting at-” xiaojun squinted at the wall clock and adjusted his glasses, “at 5:30a.m?”

“Half of the world is up you hibernating bear! y/n is craving ice-cream. You know better than to refuse her so go to her. Your service starts right now.” 

Xiaojun scoffed and remained glued to the stairs. Ten raised a brow questioning him but instead of answering him xiaojun came up with one of his own.

“And why aren’t you going?” 

“Switchblade prince is called so I gotta go. I don’t think you want her to wait!.”

Xiaojun groaned when ten shot him a wink and left the living room. Of course he had no trouble in tending to your demands which as a medic, he understood very well but ten’s cockiness wasn’t something he was ever ready to handle.

“y/n! What does our prince wanted to eat this early in the morning?” he smiled at you, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“Apples and bananas.” 

“I meant what ice cream flavour do you want?”

“Ice cream? Who said ice cream? I want bananas.” you answered him, confused at his confusion!

It was only then that xiaojun realised that switchblade prince was never called in the first place. Ten had fled. Due to fruits! He was contemplating as to what extent he should be manipulating ten’s words while telling you about his betrayal when you spoke up.

“Umm. i guess we can eat mint chocolate as well. I’ll eat a banana chocolate sandwich first then we can both watch a movie and finish the ice cream. What do you say?”

Ok!  Maybe revenge could wait. Ice cream would be a priority here! 

JAEHYUN

If your husband was cocky, you were seriously too many steps ahead of him and it has taken only 10 days for jaemin to realise that you were just jae's cup of tea and no one else's, at least not as a 4 months pregnant woman. 

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Jaehyun laughed at jaemin sprawled on the floor like a toddler. 

"Noona screamed at me" jaemin mumbled, hiding his face in his neck.

"Oh jaemin! Why did she do it? Were you teasing her again. You know that she doesn't take sarcasm too we-

"No. She threw up the food i made for her and that too thrice since yesterday. I got angry so i told her to eat up or else i won't be making anymore for her. She threw the pillow at me and ordered me to never talk to her again! I mean it's not like i was showing real anger! She's hungry since yesterday. If she won't eat up then she'd be sick. What did I do wrong! Now I made her favourite pasta and she won't open the door for me."

Jaehyun sighed and crouched down to jaemin's level. He knew your emotions weren't in your control anymore but jaemin wasn't wrong either. He was just doing what was right for you and unintentionally, you had ended up hurting the poor boy. Jaehyun patted jaemin's hair before he told him to inform taeyong about his possible absence from the upcoming meetings and activities.

"You can't do that." Jaemin said the obvious.

"Do you want her to eat or not!" Jaemin frantically nodded at him before running off to the main office.

Heating up the pasta, jaehyun made his way to your shared bedroom in black neos. 

"Baby open up it's me!" He knocked at the door and hearing his voice,you immediately opened it. 

"You are here!" You exclaimed, feeling beads of moisture in the corner of your eyes.

"Aww. Now is not the time to cry." He cooed, entering the room with the tray. Placing it on the coffee table, he turned around and hugged you just the way he missed you.

"I'm sorry for being occupied and only coming back at night. But I'm here for a few days so let's get you all happy like a seal!" He laughed, ruffling your hair.

"I-i yelled at jaemin for no reason." You confessed not being aware that he was already filled in by the younger boy. 

"You wanna apologize?" You nodded as he squished your cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss your pouty lips. 

"Later on! Now's the time for evening lunch and getting this food in your tummy without it backfiring!" 

You laughed at how smoothly he eased your worries. After eating properly, you apologised to jaemin which he accepted but not before crying like a little boy he was!

Bonus :

KUN

"Yangyang what the heck are you doing near y/n. I told you to keep your meaningless books away from her!" Kun felt like his blood pressure would shot up anytime soon.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh really? What's the book that you are reading to her?"

"How to walk like a pro when you are only 2 months old! I want the baby to be high class like me."

Kun's hands found refuge in his hair as he groaned at the boy. Now he needed to read all the books that could possibly reverse yangyang's teachings.

"There is no such book available."

"Yeah that's why i wrote it by myself. Pulled an all nighter but when the baby would start walking at only 2 months of age, you'd thank me!"

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #wayv reactions #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct father au #jaehyun scenarios #nct mafia #nct mafia reactions #wayv mafia #nct x reader #nct dream reactions

[p-redux]

Gloating about being an insider during a time of sadness is DISGUSTING

I'm not gloating, I'm posting INFO and FACTS like I always do...and showing restraint and discretion in not posting it sooner, and not posting the details, which I haven’t and won’t.

But you know what IS disgusting? Here’s a LONG list, and by no means, a comprehensive one, of what Extreme Shippers, Former Extreme Shippers, and Assorted Haters have done that is VERY DISGUSTING. I’ll write it stream of consciousness-like and not in order. Put your feet up and grab a tall drink. Here we go...

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Extreme Shippers found Cait’s condo when she used to live in Los Angeles and sat outside for hours waiting to see if they saw her with Sam. ES blackmailed and coerced a minor, a 14 year old girl who was a super fan of Abbie’s sister, Charlotte Salt, into giving them info regarding Abbie and Sam. The girl was following Abbie’s locked Instagram account and could see the Sam related stuff Abbie was posting. ES won her trust, she gave them info about Abbie and Sam, they then told her if she didn’t screencap and give them the Sam related pics on Abbie’s IG account, they would tell Abbie and Charlotte that she had been giving them info. Sick doesn’t begin to describe it. ES tried to dox and did dox anyone and everyone who got in the way of their SamCait ship. Doxed, as in PUBLICLY posted, the names, addresses, pictures of their houses, professions, husbands’ and children’s names, employer names of ANYONE and EVERYONE who posted something to contradict the ship. They even posted pictures of their children. Again, messing with minors is a big no no, and usually a crime. ES created fake Ashley Madison accounts (that’s the website for married people who want to meet people to cheat on their spouses with) and pretended to be non-shippers’ husbands to try to make it seem like the husband was cheating. It got so bad, that in some cases, non-shippers had to get restraining orders, cease and desist orders, get the police, lawyers, and in TWO cases, the F B I involved. Yes, the F B I has come a knocking on a couple of Extreme Shipper’s doors because of their ILLEGAL actions. ES lured some of Sam’s girlfriends into believing they had their best interest at heart, gained their trust, and they PUBLICLY posted their PRIVATE messages. Luckily, in the case of one Sam’s ex, Abbie Salt, she later did confirm she and Sam dated, which totally negated everything that shipper had said Abbie told her.  ES directly BULLIED and HARASSED fans, Outlander cast, crew, journalists, reporters, family and friends of Sam and Cait. ES contacted people’s employers to try to get them fired...literally messed with people’s livelihoods. They tried to get the Outlander drivers fired because they started posting stuff against shippers AFTER shippers turned on them. ES waited outside Sam and Cait’s residences in whatever location they were in to try to “catch them together.” Taking pics at someone’s private residence is very different than getting pics or video in PUBLIC places. For years, ES have manipulated pictures, gifs, video to sell the SamCait LIE to their gullible shipper friends. They’ve made money off selling these lies. ES have ostracized and banished any shipper friends who acknowledged the ship wasn’t real. They sent their best friend to Tony’s bar in London to try to prove he and Cait weren’t together, and when she unwittingly found out they were, they then bullied her and kicked her out of shipperville. ES created multiple hate sock accounts for the SOLE purpose of CYBERBULLYING Sam’s girlfriends and dates. Any time Sam dates a woman, ES follow the same pattern. They contact the women’s employers, parents, siblings, other family members, friends, ex-boyfriends trying to malign the women. Some examples: They pretended to have gone to high school with Mackenzie Mauzy and spread lies that she had a bad reputation in high school. They spread lies that Gia was a paid escort. ES contacted social media outlets to spread LIES about Sam and Cait and their significant others. Contacted anyone associated with Cait and Tony’s wedding trying to intimidate them into saying there was no wedding. They posted the picture of a waiter at one of the Outlander premieres and tried to pass him off as Tony to prove Tony didn’t go with Cait. ES have continuously posted pics of Cait with her naturally poochy belly trying to prove that she’s been pregnant with Sam’s children for the last 7 years. ES publicly questioned her if she was pregnant. Sam haters and disgruntled ex-shippers have spread rumors that Sam is gay. Nothing wrong with being gay, but what is wrong is spreading LIES. ES have badmouthed Cait’s HUSBAND, Tony McGill saying he was: her assistant, gay, her gay assistant, a loser, broke, boring, ugly, her purse holder, etc. And trust me, what I’ve posted above is the SHORT list.

And that’s not even mentioning what they’ve done to ME. Ever since I committed the unforgivable sin of posting source info CONFIRMING Sam and Cait were never a couple, and Cait was dating Tony, way back in 2014, this is what SamCait Extreme Shippers have done to me. Tagged me endlessly when I had my Twitter account telling me things like “Die, b*tch,” “Die, c*nt,” “You should be gang rap*d,” “Drop a house on her,” “You’re worse than AIDS,” and those are the “nice” comments. They literally BULLIED me every day, all day for YEARS. They also created hate accounts on Twitter and Instagram to mock me, parody me, and post lies about me. They were convinced they’d found my real identity (based on circumstantial evidence, which I’ve countered and can counter with the actual truth), and proceeded to post THAT woman’s FULL NAME, city where she lived, profession, reported her to her licensing board, and created a fake Twitter account pretending to be her. She got a lawyer and was able to get everything taken down, but they basically tried to ruin her life. They’ve spread LIES about me being the one harassing THEM and managed to convince over 60 dopes with disposable incomes to give them money for a GoFundMe campaign where they hired a Private Investigator to try to find me. They started a witchhunt letter writing campaign, hashtagged it on Twitter, #takebackourfandom, or some such bullsh*t, tagged everyone in Outlander cast and crew “telling” on me and even sent letters and e-mails to Starz and Sony executives trying to...I don’t know what. Hahahaha. It’s so ridiculous, my brain is scrambling as I write this. They told their followers not to believe anything I say and that I’m evil personified. ALL of that and more because they couldn’t face the FACT that their SamCait ship NEVER EXISTED and I was the one that confirmed it. When I think about it, I can’t believe I lived through all that. But I stayed because I knew I had the TRUTH on my side and that eventually it would all come out, which of course it did. And because I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t scare easily.  EVERYTHING I’m referring to here is well DOCUMENTED with screencap proof. Or just ask anyone who’s been in the fandom long enough, they’ll attest that what I’m saying did actually happen, and that Extreme Shippers, Former Shippers, and Haters did do all of that.

So, Anon, when you come at me with “disgusting” things in this fandom, please refer to the above before you start pointing fingers at me. 

PS. “Anon,” I’ve got your Los Angeles/Anaheim Samsung Galaxy S10e IP address tagged. So, send me another hate Ask and you’ll get blocked. And don’t bother using a VPN...once the tag is on, it follows the user no matter what IP they use. Now you know. 

#extremeshippers #haters #samheughan #caitrionabalfe #disgusting #trolls #bullies #cybercrimes #abbiesalt #mackenziemauzy #missgiamarie #witchhunt #tonymcgill #charlottesalt

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter ten

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

The knock at the door made Chloe jolt. 

Aubrey was here, and Chloe was a nervous wreck. Even if Aubrey had shown nothing but support in the texts they had exchanged over the last couple of months, Chloe was bracing herself for judgment. It had become her default setting over the last couple of years, to always expect people to think the worst of her. 

It turned out Aubrey couldn’t make it for dinner that weekend and instead offered lunch on the following Monday, so Beca was currently at work. Meeting her alone made Chloe even more nervous; Beca had become her rock, her lifeline over the past couple of months, and someone Chloe actually trusted, and she would have been more comfortable with her being present. 

She wiped her hands on her apron and padded to the door, sucking in one last deep breath before pulling it open.  Her friend looked the same as Chloe remembered her, except for her hairstyle, which evolved into a neat bob and matched the lawyer persona well.

“Hey Chlo,” Aubrey greeted softly, eyes soft and smile shy. 

“Hi,” Chloe breathed out when she remembered she should say something, blinking. 

Before Chloe could step aside, Aubrey stepped forward and pulled Chloe into a loose hug. Chloe’s first reaction was to tense for a brief moment, eventually wrapping her arms around Aubrey’s back, in turn, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. 

“Thanks for having me over,” Aubrey said as she backed away.

Chloe nodded with a small smile and took a step back to let Aubrey through. “Come on in. I uh-- I made chicken pasta. Do you still like that?” 

Cooking had been one of the activities Chloe had rekindled with since finishing rehab. Following a recipe was a good distraction from her cravings. 

“I do. Sounds yummy.” 

“You-- you’ve been here before, I imagine?” Chloe asked as she shut and locked the door behind them, leading Aubrey to the main room.

Aubrey shrugged off her jacket. “A few times, yes. I think the last time was for Beca’s birthday last September.” 

Chloe nodded once more, then remembered her manners. “Can I offer you anything to drink?” She asked as she padded to the fridge. “We have water, flat or sparkling, coke and fanta.” 

“Sparkling water is good,” Aubrey said as she perched herself on a stool, resting her chin over her propped-up hand. “How’s it been living with Beca?” 

“Good,” Chloe replied as she reached for two water glasses in the cupboards, the water bottle in her other hand. “She’s been really amazing with trying to make me feel at home. It’s weird though because I can’t pay rent or groceries. I still feel like I’m taking advantage of her generosity.”

Aubrey hummed. “I get that. But you’re not. Beca wouldn’t offer all those things if she felt like you were taking advantage. And we all know you’re not. You’re getting back on your feet and could use all the help you can get, which I’m sure Beca is happy to give.” 

Chloe took a deep breath and nodded. She uncapped the bottle and poured some water into both drinks. 

“How have you been feeling otherwise?” Aubrey questioned then. 

Chloe shrugged, breaking eye-contact. “It’s been a real rollercoaster, to be honest. Somedays I feel fine, other days it feels like I’m drowning. If it weren’t for Beca’s support or--” The baby, which she had yet to tell Aubrey about. She swallowed, forcing herself to meet her friend’s gaze. “A few days before the end of rehab, I found out that I was pregnant.” 

Aubrey blinked twice in slow succession, much like Beca had done. “You are? I mean--” 

“I’m keeping it,” Chloe cleared up before Aubrey could attempt to reword her question. “I know it probably sounds crazy and irresponsible given my situation and who the father is, I--” 

“I think you’re going to make an amazing mom, Chlo,” Aubrey murmured before Chloe could finish. “And yes, your situation is tricky right now, but it won’t forever be that way. And the father might be a dick whose balls should be fed to wolves, but you and I both know that a  baby sharing your genes can’t be evil.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you going to tell him?” 

Chloe froze. She hadn’t dared broach the subject with her therapist for fear of her telling a judge, and she didn’t know what she was allowed or not allowed to do. “Do I… have to? I mean, legally?”

Aubrey shook her head. “No, you don’t have any obligations to. The father’s name on the birth certificate can be left blank, and that means Marco will have no rights over the child.” 

Chloe nibbled on her bottom lip as she processed that information. “What if he finds out? Can he get custody?” 

“He’ll have to submit a petition to the court through a lawyer in order to have a DNA test done,” Aubrey explained. “After that, a judge decides if he has the right to have custody, but I really don’t see how he could, given his track record. I had a friend at the precinct look him up, and he’s been convicted several times for drug dealing and violence.” 

Relief swept over Chloe upon hearing that. The thought of Marco having any influence on that child gave her nightmares. “Okay. Good.” She cleared her throat when her brain caught up with the rest of Aubrey’s sentence. “I didn’t know he was a criminal.” But she wasn’t surprised, now. “I wouldn’t have-- he was really good to me at the beginning, and by the time his true personality surfaced, I had nowhere to go.” 

“He was toxic,” Aubrey said as she nodded. “A manipulator. He probably loved the hell out of you at first, bombarded you with sweet messages and calls and flattery? And little by little, the connection faded and you started to feel meaningless? Unworthy?” 

Chloe could only nod faintly, because Aubrey had just put into words what her relationship with Marco felt like, without Chloe telling her any of that stuff. 

“I come across so many people with the same profile in my job, and the victims, men or women, always blame themselves. But they shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.” 

Her therapist had already told Chloe that many times, but Chloe’s default thinking made it hard to grasp that. Being with Marco felt like chaos reigned in her head, her emotions, her body, her life, and he found a way to make her believe it was her own fault. 

Chloe mustered a soft smile, feeling more than ready to stop talking about that for now. “Should we eat?” 

The conversation thankfully transitioned to easier subjects. Chloe caught up on the last six years of Aubrey’s life, feeling a little lighter and more at ease around her friend now that it was clear Aubrey held no grudge or judgment towards Chloe for cutting her out of her life. They found themselves reminiscing about their college days, two hours zipping by without Chloe once thinking about her cravings. 

“I’m just a call away, alright?” Aubrey said as she slid her jacket back on. “And if you ever want to come to Boston for a weekend, I have two guest bedrooms.” 

A genuine smile spread across Chloe’s lips as she nodded. “I’d love that.” Chloe was the one to initiate the hug this time, letting it linger. “Thank you for coming down, Bree.”

Aubrey smiled back. “It was my pleasure. See you soon, Chloe.” 

Bean’s thirteen-week-check-up took place the following day. Chloe was set on having as many tests done as possible at this stage, with an NT scan to help assess the baby’s risk of having complications such as Down syndrome, other chromosomal abnormalities, and major congenital heart problems, as well as full blood work to rule out cystic fibrosis and Tay-Sachs.

Bean passed their scan with flying colors, much to her relief. The heartbeat was strong, and 

Bean’s features were unmistakably human this time around; Chloe could make out Bean’s head and their nose and the round belly and tiny feet.

She went home with three pictures, and Beca insisted one should go up on the fridge. 

The following month was punctuated with more therapy, NA meetings, and the visit to Oregon. Chloe felt more at home in Beca’s apartment with each passing day, though she tried her best to stay out of the way whenever Sarah was over. 

On the day of their departure, Chloe was beyond grateful Beca agreed to come with her, as telling her parents the truth felt incredibly daunting. 

They landed in Portland a little after four that Thursday, renting a car to drive the two hours to Newport, where Chloe’s childhood home was located. As Beca parked the car in her parents’ driveway, Chloe was rooted to her seat with nerves. 

Beca’s hand on her leg snapped her out of it. “Hey.” Chloe turned her head to the left, meeting Beca’s soft eyes. “Breathe. In and out.” 

Nodding, Chloe inhaled deeply through her nose and released the air through her mouth, closing her eyes. She reached for the door handle next and stepped out, swallowing thickly as she let her leaned legs carry her to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and stepped back, instinctively reaching for Beca’s hand. 

Her mom appeared on the other side a handful of seconds later, and she engulfed Chloe into a hug before Chloe could even utter anything. 

“Hi mom,” she croaked out, her eyes fluttering shut as she released Beca’s hand to hug her back tightly, basking into the instant comfort being in her mom’s arms brought her. 

Alice pulled away but kept Chloe at arms’ length, her gaze sweeping over her features. “It’s so good to see you, baby.” Her focus shifted to Beca, and she embraced her next, keeping it a bit shorter. They had met each other before when her parents flew to Atlanta for Chloe’s graduation. “Welcome to our home, Beca.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Beale.” 

Chloe’s mom glared playfully, tutting. “It’s Alice to you. Come on inside.” 

They stepped into the house, a smell Chloe knew well drifting from the kitchen: her dad’s famous lasagna, Chloe’s favorite. 

“Hey Chlobear,” her dad greeted as soon as they rounded the corner, smile bright and eyes sparkling as he sat in his electric wheelchair by the couch. 

Tears pricked behind Chloe’s eyes, and she crossed the distance between them, bending down to hug him. His working arm drifted up to snake around her back. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered, emotions trapping her voice in her throat. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured, his own voice wavering. “I made your favorite. Well, your mom made your favorite under my supervision, ‘cause she would have messed it up otherwise.” 

“Hey,” Chloe’s mom objected, drawing a chuckle from both Chloe and her dad. 

Chloe straightened, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “You remember Beca, right?” 

“Of course I do,” Mike confirmed as he made his chair go forward, then extended his hand. “How are you, Beca?” 

“Hello Mr. Beale,” Beca greeted, shaking his head. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“You, too. And it’s Mike. No Mr. Beale around this house.” 

Beca laughed, nodding. “Got it, Mike.” 

“I hope you guys are hungry, we’ve made enough food to last us until next month,” Mike commented as he moved towards the table. 

After freshening up, she and Beca sat at the table just as Alice pulled the lasagna out from the oven, then grabbed the salad and the wine bottle from the counter. 

“Wine, Beca?” She asked, holding up the bottle. 

“I’m good, thanks, though.” 

Chloe glanced at her. “You can have some if you want.” 

Beca shook her head, smiling softly as she unfolded her napkin and draped it across her lap. “I’m okay, I promise. Water’s fine.” 

Chloe caught her parents sharing a confused look over the exchange, and she cleared her throat, knowing it was probably best to get this over with. “Mom, you should probably sit down.” 

Concern creased a frown on Alice’s forehead as she set the bottle down and lowered herself next to Chloe’s dad. “What’s going on, Chloe?” 

Chloe took a deep breath, and she felt Beca’s hand cover her own under the table. She flipped hers over and wrapped her fingers around Beca’s, grateful for the grounding contact. “I um--” she swallowed, unable to figure out where to start even though she had practiced her speech countless times leading up to their visit. 

Shame and guilt rushed through her, digging their claws into her heart and lungs, making it harder to breathe. 

“Chloe,” her mother’s voice pierced through the buzzing in Chloe’s ears. Chloe looked up from her plate, finding soft eyes. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Chloe closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to own up to her situation by looking at her parents while she spoke. “I have a drug problem. Had. I’m--I’m in recovery. I got out of rehab a couple of months ago.” 

A heavy silence settled over the room as Mike and Alice processed the news. Chloe felt like bolting out of the house as she watched her dad swallow thickly, and her mom’s jaw-dropping. She felt a squeeze to her hand and remembered to breathe. 

“Oh Chloe,” her mom whispered and got up to sit in the vacant chair on the other side of Chloe, taking her other hand as she tilted her head to the side. “How long have you been struggling?” 

Chloe cleared her throat. “About five years. I never-- I never graduated from vet school. I dropped out.” 

Her father frowned, his mouth moving wordlessly for a few beats. “But-- the money you gave us for my treatment every month?” 

“I was a stripper,” Chloe admitted quietly. “That’s how I got introduced to cocaine. How I met Marco. How I... made so much money.” She was hit by an array of emotions -- shame, fear, and somehow, relief -- right then, and a sob burst out from her throat before she could reign it in. “I’m s-sorry I lied to you for so long.” She released Beca’s hand to cover her mouth, her body shaking as she crumbled under the weight of her feelings. 

She didn’t fight it when her mom pulled her into her arms, rubbing her back in slow circles and whispering reassuring words into her ear. “It’s okay, sweetie. Breathe. We love you. No matter what.” 

It took a few minutes for Chloe to be able to get her breathing under control, straightening when she did and taking the tissue Beca offered her. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” she murmured, licking her dry lips. She still had the baby bomb to drop, but one thing at a time. Thankfully she wasn’t showing that much yet, and her large hoodie kept her small bump concealed. 

“Thank you for telling us,” her father murmured, and Chloe saw him wipe a tear away when she looked up. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be, as for deciding to seek help.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it before. I was ashamed and lost and--” she shrugged. “I wasn’t myself.” 

“How are you feeling now?” Her mom asked softly, pushing Chloe’s hair behind her ear. “You said it’s been two months since rehab?” 

Chloe nodded, sniffling. “Ups and downs. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Beca. She’s the one who encouraged me to get help, who paid for rehab, continued paying for your treatment, and I’ve been staying at her place while I get back on my feet.” 

Both her parents’ focus shifted to Beca, gratitude swirling in their eyes. 

“She’s been incredibly strong and responsible,” Beca said, smiling softly. “Hasn’t missed a therapy session or NA meeting since getting out of rehab.” 

“And this Marco…” her dad trailed off in a questioning tone. 

“He’s out of my life. He wasn’t a good person, but I failed to realize that.” 

“More like he hid it well,” Beca corrected gently. Chloe met her eyes. “Remember what Aubrey and your therapist said about how you didn’t have to blame yourself for that?” 

Chloe nodded. “Right.” 

“Did he… hurt you?” Mike asked next, a tremor in his voice as he seemed to brace himself for the answer. 

“Not physically.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Chloe didn’t think that slap was worth mentioning. “Just… emotionally. He knew how to get into my head, and the drugs didn’t help. They have this funny way of having you believe whatever it wants you to. Logic and reason no longer existed for me when I was at my lowest. I was ashamed of lying to you every time we spoke on the phone, but the paranoia over you not wanting to talk to me again if I told you was stronger.” 

She was sure her dad had a lot more questions and probably wondered if his treatment and their financial problems pushed Chloe into taking that job, but he remained silent, clearly mulling everything over. 

“We could tell you looked tired every time we called, but we never…” Alice trailed off, shaking her head as a few tears rolled down her cheeks when she blinked. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No,” Chloe croaked out, having feared this: her parents blaming themselves. Her heart felt incredibly heavy as she sandwiched her mom’s hand between her own, glancing at her dad briefly. “I don’t want you guys to feel guilty and think that you should have noticed. I hid it well, especially the first few years. Then it sort of derailed, that’s why I stopped visiting. Please don’t apologize.” 

“Did you take that job because you felt like you had to help us?” Her dad asked, just as Chloe had predicted. “With my treatment?” 

Chloe took a deep breath. “I took it because NYC was expensive and I was struggling a bit with rent. And when your health worsened, I asked for more shifts to help out.” She didn’t want to get into what she was asked to do for more money. She couldn’t. Her dad would be eaten away by guilt if he knew how much of a toll working in the VIP room took on her. The whole truth would hurt him more than a small lie. “It’s when I started doing drugs that everything fell apart. It’s not on you, dad. I promise.” 

Mike swallowed and ran his hand over his face as he visibly tried to keep a hold on his emotions. “You’re my daughter, you shouldn’t have had to provide for me, or to put yourself first.” 

“Dad, please,” Chloe whispered, feeling her throat shrinking. “I wanted to help. I just… made bad choices and met the wrong people. It’s not your fault.” Her eyes found her dad’s. “Please tell me you believe that?” 

Her father remained silent for a stretch as he stared at her. He eventually offered a faint nod, but Chloe wasn’t sure if he was being honest. 

Her mom reached up to wipe her tears away, sniffling. “What… what can we do to help you through your recovery?” 

“Being part of my support system, like you unknowingly have since I got out of rehab,” Chloe murmured with a small smile. “And dealing with more of my visits,” she added, knowing they would both be all for that.

“You are always welcome to move back here, Chlo. For as long as you want,” she offered. 

“I…” she cleared the rising lump in her throat as she briefly glanced down to her lap. “There’s something else that I need to tell you.” Another deep breath. “I’m four months pregnant. With Marco’s baby. But he’s not going to be involved. I’m going to raise them on my own.” 

There. Everything she was ready to share was out there in the open, and Chloe felt incredibly lighter, despite her heartbeat picking up as her parents once again fell silent. She really couldn’t blame them, after everything she had just dumped on them. 

“I know it’s a lot,” she added, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I know my decision to keep it might come across as strange, but I couldn’t get rid of it, and this baby is giving my life purpose again because I want to be a better person for them.” 

“I think you are incredibly brave,” Alice said after a little while, reaching out to catch a tear falling on Chloe’s cheek with the side of her pointer finger. “And I’m failing to find words to express how proud of you I am.” 

Chloe sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as her gaze met her dad’s once more. She could tell he needed more time to work through everything, and maybe they could talk about it some more the next day, once he had slept over it. 

“That kid is going to be the most spoiled grandchild of all Newport,” he joked with a soft smile, his words loosening the nerves in Chloe’s stomach.

Chloe released a watery giggle. “I love you guys.” 

“We love you, too, Chlobear,” her dad murmured, and after embracing her mom tightly, Chloe stood up and rounded the table to hug her dad. 

They eventually dug into dinner, the conversation shifting to the baby, whether it was okay, what the risks there were, when was her due date... Her parents offered to turn the office into a nursery if Chloe wanted to move back in with them, to which Chloe answered that she would think about it. She had been concerned about how much the pregnancy and having a newborn baby around would affect Beca’s life and her relationship with Sarah, and this would be another alternative to which Chloe needed to give some serious thought. 

Chloe and Beca headed upstairs shortly after dinner, both feeling exhausted as their mind and body were three hours ahead. After showing Beca to the guest room, Chloe changed into her pajamas and washed up for bed, knocking on Beca’s door on her way back to her own bedroom. 

She pushed it open upon hearing a soft come in, finding Beca lying on top of the comforter, already changed in her sleeping wear. 

“You okay?” She asked, smiling as Chloe sat down on the edge of the mattress. “That went pretty well.” 

“Yeah, I…” she swallowed, shaking her head in leftover awe. “I have amazing parents. I didn’t think they would be so understanding.” 

“Of course they’re amazing. They raised you.” 

Chloe bowed her head as blush bloomed in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I think my dad is a bit shaken up and part of him feels to blame, but I’m hoping he and I can talk some more tomorrow.” 

Beca nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.” 

Chloe let out a small sigh, and she reached out to squeeze Beca’s hand. “Thanks again for coming here with me.” 

“Not a problem. I’m hoping you’ll show me around the town at some point, take me to your favorite spots.” 

“We can definitely do that tomorrow,” Chloe agreed, her smile genuine. “Goodnight, Bec.” 

“Night Chloe. Night Bean.”

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pieces

[wxldchxld]

By far I think the teachers I work with are better than a lot of others I've met in units like mine but at the end of the day they're still neurotypical and it's hard for them to let go of the "I know best" and linear thinking that's been ingrained in them.

Recently one of our students who is only five, had a massive panic attack due to a storm and we offered him noise cancelling headphones to help. In the following days, he's taken to asking for them even when it's not stormy out. And now our teachers are trying to discourage him from using them especially in places like the lunch room.

I kind of jokingly tried to guilt her about it because he was clearly sad/distressed. And she was like "Well he's just never needed them before."

I replied, much more seriously, "I didn't start wearing headphones until last year. Now I wear them every day."

She just kind of shrugged and said “yeah” because I’m very, very open about having a sensory processing disorder (tho I haven’t specified what the diagnosis is), and she knew she couldn’t invalidate my needs and experience because I could verbally shoot down excuses.

Finally she just kinda sighed and said “I just don’t want him to regress on a sensory level.”

Now again, I don’t think she’s saying this to be ugly. She genuinely loves her kids and is doing what she thinks, and what she was taught was best for them.

But like... something NT people just don’t seem to understand about sensory needs is that, in my opinion, you don’t really advance or regress. You may decrease certain needs as life goes on, you gain new experiences, or you get more confidence. You may find out your sensory needs are higher than you thought. Usually due to a more awareness (which is why conversations about adults caring for their own sensory needs are so fucking important). Sometimes sensory needs can increase or decrease depending on stress level. If I’m already upset and you put me in a grocery store, I’m going to turn into a mega bitch and cry all the way back to my car and then back to my house. 

It kind of shows that like, I don’t know if NT people follow the through line of their logic. Idk how to word it but like... They think “oh well if you expose them and they get used to it then it is over.” They don’t connect it to any other behaviors they see. They don’t realize you can have a massive mood drop, a meltdown, or increased reactivity way later because they’ve been ignoring their need to fulfill or avoid certain stimuli. 

This particular student is one of the most reactive I’ve ever met personally. He’s very prone to losing his temper in a heartbeat, and he’s also very prone to “going off in his own little world”. Which, to me, as a kid who acted VERY similarly tells me he is overwhelmed and probably doesn’t even know it. I know forever I just kinda assumed that’s how the world was for everyone. I didn’t know there might be tools that could help me take control of my experience. Life was chaotic and extremely emotional and I spent most of my time playing pretend to escape to a world I could control. This devolved into full blown dissociation as I got older.

Do I KNOW this kid is like me? No. But I do know that because of my own experiences coming to a better understanding of how my brain works over the past year and a half, is that people should be able to use whatever tools they can to help themselves. If someone says headphones or sunglasses make their lives easier---who the fuck cares? And if you’re concerned they’re going to be bullied or outcast because of that, maybe you should spend less time trying to force neurodivergent kids to assimilate and ignore their needs, and more time teaching compassion and manners to the other kids.

#like i just needed to rant about this i'll delete later #but this irks me so much bc these are good people i work with #who genuinely care about these kids #and are usually really good about this shit #but sometimes i get a rude reminder that society just isn't there yet #i am going to have a talk with her about it #if the issue gets bigger so maybe i can help her understand

[psg-est-magique]

Tumblr tag game

Thanks so much to my loves @kingkyks and @too-multifandom-to-function for tagging me! I love these ask games so much! I love you both so much! 🥺☺️

1. Why did you choose your url ?

I chose this url when Ney first signed for PSG. It was such a special time and I will never forget how warmly he was welcomed to this team. In the press conference on the day he was presented as a PSG player, Ney said “Paris est magique” // Paris is magic. He then proceeded to laugh and run off. So that’s how I got my url! It was just such a precious moment, maybe I will look up the video and try to post it.

2. Any side blogs ?

Nope! ❤️

3. How long have you been on tumblr ?

I have been on tumblr since 2014 because during the 2014 Brasil World Cup, I absolutely fell in love with Neymar and football so I made a tumblr to join the football fandom. I had a old blog when Ney played for Barça and then in 2017 I made this one. But in 2017 I left tumblr for a while. Finally, in 2020 when my heart was crushed by PSG losing the ucl final I came back to this blog so that I could have company in my misery. And the rest is history baby.

4. Do you have a queue tag ?

Nope! ❤️

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place ?

I wanted to start fresh with a new Neymar Jr/PSG/Brasil NT blog because although I met amazing and sweet Barcelona fans, their fandom became a bit toxic for me especially when Ney left in 2017. It made me sad the way they would speak about him which is a big reason why I left tumblr for a bit around that time.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp ?

Okay so I remember this photo perfectly! It was in summer 2020 when the players came back to France to play matches after the first quarantine and I was so excited!!! I just love this photo so much, I love it when Ney smiles so big and bright like this and his eyes get all scrunched up. I just love to see him smile, and I love it when he’s happy and healthy, I thank God for his smile, health, and happiness. Ney is just so precious!

Although I love this picture so much, I think I want to change it soon but I’m hesitant to because icons are like identifiers. Honestly I don’t think I’m going to change it for a while though.

7. Why did you choose your header ?

I chose this one because it is just absolutely gorgeous, have you seen it?! I love it and I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris. It is also a photo from our win against Dortmund in 2020 when we qualified to the quarter finals. This win and this day is one of my favorite memories as a PSG fan, it was such a special time.

8. What’s your post with the most notes ?

I am not sure at all honestly, I think it might be the post about Leo Paredes and Ney sharing a blanket and watching a PSG match together at Ney’s house. It was such an adorable moment, this team is really such a family and I love them all so much!! 🥰🥰☺️❤️

9. How many mutuals do you have ?

Hmmmmm I’m not sure, I would say about 5! But I love my entire little PSG family. You all have my heart.

10. How many followers do you have ?

93! Almost 100! But it’s not about followers, tumblr is just a really nice safe place to express myself about the what I truly love. And I have met some of the most amazing people on here! Like my best friend @too-multifandom-to-function ❤️❤️

11. How many people do you follow ?

I follow 79 blogs and before I follow someone I always make sure they are at the very least neutral about PSG and Neymar and don’t say nasty things about them because that honestly makes me really sad.

12. Have you ever made a shit post ?

Um I do not think so, I usually just rant about football related things that make me upset in some way. I guess that sort of counts as shit posting. 😅

13. How often do you use tumblr a day ?

I don’t know the exact amount of time but I like scrolling through tumblr a few times a day to check the out what’s going on in the football world. I also love coming on here to talk to @kingkyks !❤️❤️

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog ?

I have had a few disagreements as I am very defensive of the people and things I love. So when people just unjustly attack Neymar or PSG or any of our players I usually get upset. Most times I let it go because I don’t like to be mean and I think energy is better spent by sending love to our players. But sometimes I’m like nah baby it’s on and I have to say something and defend my boys.

15. How do you feel about the ‘you need to reblog’ posts ?

I really dislike those posts, I feel like people are already so anxious, so why make it worse by getting into their heads. Plus it’s just annoying.

16. Do you like tag games ?

Yes I love tag games, I think they are so fun. Also I love it when think of me and tag me!!

17. Do you like ask games ?

I love ask games too, I like to send people asks for ask games. Sadly I don’t really get many asks when I do those things but it’s okay, it’s all in good fun!

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous ?

@holdmyhopeinyourhands @kingkyks @amelmajrii

I just love these three so much, I always checked their blogs even when I was off tumblr. They are my tumblr famous celebrities and I love them! ❤️

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual ?

I have a crush on all of my mutuals I love every single last one of them! Mwah! 😘

20. Tags

@tmnteshk @amelmajrii @sevyntwentyfour @msn-forever @holdmyhopeinyourhands and anyone else who wants to do this!

Love you guys all so much!! ❤️❤️

[honeysidesarchived]

Multiples of 10 for santi/euphie bls

macy ilysm : ' ) my favorite : ' ) putting these under the cut for length but also some spoilery content!

otp asks!

10. how do they resolve their arguments?

it would be very safe to say that euphie and santino don't have "arguments". they have what santi refers to as "disputes", which are quickly resolved. or, as quickly as they can be. truthfully, i don't think the arguments ever really get resolved--they just get tabled for later, but there happens to never be a later. for them. djkhdfd

20. do they give each other nicknames?

santino loves using nicknames or pet names on euphemia. every term of endearment you can think of is coming out of his mouth regardless of whether she's about to throttle him or not; tesora, cara mia, my darling, my love, my little fox, etc and so on. euphemia is not a woman who calls people pet names out loud very much, or hardly at all really! she calls him santi, but that's pretty much it. until the very end of nt/ng, where she calls him her love

30. do they attend any clubs or formal parties together?

all the time! any social function that either of them has to go to, they're taking the other with them. despite what euphie would like to pretend, she and santino are quite the little bonded pair--she doesn't like going places without him if she can help it, being a girl who has never had much and holds on to things too tightly. also, the parties are usually well-populated with the men euphie was dating before, so santino likes to make it very clear what she is up to nowadays dkfjhd.

40. thoughts on kids?

santino wants them. he wants the whole package. perfect wife, beautiful children, immaculate house, ascending to power through sororicide, y'know the usual. euphemia didn't want children, really; with her relationship with her mother being tenuous at best, and her relationship with her father edging on murderous (lmao), she was terrified she just wouldn't have the "be a good mother" gene. once baby viola is born, though, there is nothing and no one in the entire world that euphemia loves more.

50. who loves flower crowns more?

euphie! but santino would wear them confidently.

60. who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

this one is also euphie dkfjhdkjf. santino strikes me as the kind of man who would levy a hefty threat, but let ares or the others take care of it; euphemia is scrappy and won't hesitate, bitch.

70. who is the hopeless romantic?

santino. euphemia is much more of a realist, but i think the argument could be made that they're both a hopeless romantic, because euphemia continues to be swayed by his DUMB SWEET TALK

80. what do they love about each other the most?

euphemia loves the way that santino loves--covetously, like he could never get enough of her, because she's never ever been wanted in that way by anyone. in that same vein, santino is an incredibly loyal person to himself and the people that he deems important enough, which is something she absolutely adores.

conversely, santino loves euphemia's temper/quick wit/mouthiness. she ought to be scared of him, and other people under the table, and she acts very much like she is not, with how comfortable she is talking shit about them. he finds that incredibly attractive, along with the fact that she's always on the same level as him intellectually (so as to better tell him why he's wrong).

90. who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

(SIGHS) santi, definitely. he'd be like, "look at this cute puppy i got, euphie!" and she would be like "who's going to feed it. are you going to walk it every day? are you going to clean up after it? no, the answer is no, santino, it will be my responsibility, idiot" but then be very won over by the puppy anyway.

#x: senza tentazioni senza onore #c: euphemia volpe #c: santino d'antonio #ask games #jamesbvchanans #thank u macy i love giving the kids a place to: be #;___;

[solange-lol]

i already know it (i’ll probably blow it)

words: 1,725

read on ao3

—

Camp Half-Blood Thanksgiving was a new tradition, only started after the war with Gaea when demigod lives weren’t as threatened, (keyword being as.)  

Even while it was safe for more demigods to go home, some still chose to stay at camp year-round, or, in the case of Nico, they didn’t have anywhere to go. Thanksgiving in the Underworld could be interesting, but to be honest, the son of Hades was sort of trying to avoid undead beings for a little while.

“Everybody gather around,” Malcolm Pace, head of the Athena cabin after Annabeth left, calls. The rest of the counselors swarmed him as he began to hand out food assignments.

They had decided the best method of going about this was letting the head counselors of every cabin take over one section with Chiron’s aid and supervision. They were just a group of teenagers after all, and what do teenagers know about making group meals for a bunch of campers?

Not much, as it became abundantly clear to Nico as he stands cluelessly in the kitchen of the Big House.

“Nico, you’re on dessert with Drew and Clovis,” Malcolm informs him, steering him in the direction of the two, who are already peeling apples (Drew was peeling apples, Clovis seemed to have given up after one in favor of a quick nap.)

They were also sitting right next to one Will Solace, who was busy peeling potatoes and laughing at whatever Drew just said.

He hesitantly joined the two, trying his best not to make direct eye contact with the son of Apollo. Ever since his three days in the infirmary after the war took place, Nico didn’t know where they were going to go.

The answer was nowhere, apparently, as Will has made no attempt to ask him out since then.

“Why don’t you ask him out, then?” Jason had asked him when he was packing up his stuff from the summer as Nico complained to him. He had found that Jason was the only person with who he actually felt comfortable discussing his more-or-less crush on Will ever since the incident with Cupid.

“Because how am I supposed to know he’s not just like this with everyone? He’s crazy protective like that with everyone; I’m just waiting for him to at least give me a sign that he likes me too.”

Jason had just rolled his eyes. “I think you both are crazy oblivious.”

Nico crossed his arms. “Just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean you're the love expert.”

“Then why did you come to me?”

(Said girlfriend later broke up with him, but it’s not like Nico had made any progress anyway, so who cares.)

How was Nico even supposed to know what he wanted with Will anyway? He’d never been in a relationship before, and none of his crushes ever stemmed past more than, well, a crush.

He wishes Annabeth were still here. When it came to crushes on oblivious guys, she was an expert. Nico still doesn’t know how she did it.

“Hey, di Angelo, are you gonna help us with dessert, or should we just watch you stare at Solace all day?” Drew asks, dumping the apple mixture (how did she make that so quickly?) into the pie crust.

When he snaps back, glancing up at her and trying to ignore both Will’s eyes on him and the heat rising in his neck, she just snorts at him. “Wanna get started melting marshmallows for Rice Krispie Treats?”

He nods, and she takes the bag the Clovis had just been using as a pillow out from under his head and hands it to him.

Nico glances at it. “What do I do with this?”

“Mix it with half a stick of butter and pop it in the microwave,” she tells him. Nico follows instinct after that from what little cooking knowledge he has from growing up with Bianca.

As he stands back at the microwave, he can’t help but watch Will, rattling off reasons why his body had subjected him to have a crush on another boy way out of his league. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, assertive, but also nice, could probably carry him, and dumb as rocks.

“Invested in the mashed potatoes?” Will asks, once again snapping Nico out of his train of thought. He holds up a mostly-peeled potato. “Am I up to your standards?”

Instinctively, he straightens his back, playing along. “My Italian mother would cry at that potato,” he informs Will. Behind him, the microwave beeps, signaling its end, but Nico ignores it.

Will just laughs, shaking his head, and Nico continues. “Lucky for you, I don’t have much of a memory from Italy, so it’ll pass.”

“Thank god, you had me worried.”

Before he can say something else, Drew interrupts. “Are you going to get out the marshmallows before they solidify?” she asks him, then holds out a spoonful of some dessert for Will to try.

Nico sighs, turning back to the microwave and opening the door. He can’t tell if he’s jealous, or just frustrated about his first interaction with Will in a while has been cut short. There was that whole thing with Drew, too. He didn’t know what was between the two of them, and frankly, he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know.

“Oh, and be careful, it’s hot!-” Drew warned last minute, but it was too late.

Nico grabs the bowl full-hands on, then immediately squeaks and drops the bowl on the floor with a clatter, the burn already settling into his hand.

Drew glances down at the buttery-marshmallow mess on the floor. “Couldn’t have even aimed for the counter?”

Meanwhile, Will stands up from potato duty, offering a hand out to Nico. “Alright, to the infirmary with you.”

He rolls his eyes, accepting it with his good hand and trying to ignore the way his other one feels like it’s burning off. Together, they exit the infirmary and make their way over to the infirmary next door.

Kayla is already set up for her shift, but as soon as she notices Will’s hand in Nico’s, she just nods them off to the back.

“I guess you don’t cook much?” Will asks once Nico is finally sat down.

“Never really had a reason to, I guess. Coach did all of the cooking when I was traveling with him and Reyna,” Nico explains as Will takes out some cream, tugging Nico’s hand forward so he can lay it on. He seems surprised when Nico barely flinches at it

“Usually Silvadene gets a scream out of campers,” he says, putting away the ointment and begins to wrap Nico’s hand.

“I think you're forgetting I got clawed by a werewolf” Nico reminds him, and Will shudders.

“Oh, no, I remember. Those were a nightmare to heal. Thank gods for nectar and ambrosia,” he says, then reaches behind him to a drawer, pulling out the godly food. “Speaking of which-”

He takes the small square, taking a bite out of the corner “Thanks.”

“What does it taste like for you?”

“Rice Krispie Treats.” Nico deadpans.

Will’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No,” he snorts, and Will rolls his eyes, laughing lightly. Nico doesn’t know if it’s the sound or the ambrosia that makes his stomach warm.

Will stands up from his seat in front of the bed, putting away materials. He then reaches for Nico’s good hand again and pulls him up. “Well, anyway, you didn’t have to throw a bowl of marshmallow mix on the floor just to get my attention.”

Nico ignores his suddenly-flaming cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he tries to force out smoothly. His voice cracks a bit, and Will's lips twitch upwards. “I really did burn myself.”

“I know, but I could see you watching me.”

He swallows. “You could?” (He’s faced monsters, titans, gods, even Tartarus, but one cocky son of Apollo makes him suddenly lose all his chill?)

“Di Angelo, you are as obvious as I am oblivious. It took Drew telling me to notice, but once I did, I couldn’t stop,” he says, tugging Nico a little bit closer.

The son of Hades leans back a bit, trying to push away the skeletal butterflies in his stomach. “Are you two a thing? You seem awfully close.”

Will raises his eyebrows, and an amused smile on his lips as he pulls Nico even closer. The back of his legs are pressed against the bed, and with a good six inches on him, Will is towering over him.

“Well considering she’s gay and I’m into you, I would hope not,” he says quietly, wrapping one arm around Nico’s waist as he leans down.

“Oh.” Oh.

His face closes in towards Nico’s, so close that his heart is pounding as he waits for Will’s lips to reach his. (Nico could lean forward and speed up the process, but his entire body seems to be frozen in some emotion he can’t quite name yet.)

Just when their lips are inches apart, Will stops. “Can I kiss you?” he mumbles practically against them.

“Please,” Nico responds, and then there they are.

He’s never kissed anybody before. He doesn’t know if Will has, but he’s doing a bit better than Nico. It’s a little messy, and there are no fireworks like in the movies, but it’s with Will, and that’s all he can really ask for at any point.

Will’s hand tugs Nico’s waist closer to him as he tilts his head, and oh. He loses himself in the sensation as Will drops Nico’s hand, letting it move up Nico’s arm to his neck, and then into his hair.

Nico sighs into his mouth. Out of instinct, he put both hands on the back of Will’s neck, trying to pull him closer.

The sudden pressure on his hand makes him wince and step back. He would have tripped backward on the infirmary bed if it wasn’t for Will immediately grabbing his waist, keeping him steady.

“You okay?” he asks, slightly breathless, and the butterflies return to Nico’s stomach.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Do you think you can give me some more of that ambrosia? I need my hand to heal so we can keep doing that.”

Will smiles like he can’t help it, placing a kiss on Nico’s cheek before reaching into the drawer again.

—

solangelo tag list (message/ask to be added removed) 

@unicornsgomooo @anxiouswinter @soulangelou @number-of-fucks-i-give-0 @underworldystuff @theeloquentsnake @solangelover@thefandomsaretakingover @internallyexplodingrainbows​ @motivatedcryptidtamer @emilyfairchild @wherethewildthingsare-nt @hetapeep41 @blavk-dahlia

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #heros of olympus #my writing #mine #liz writes.com

[luv-eddiediaz]

This is a personal post, and there’s nothing fun in it, so scroll on by and look for something better if you want, but I’m gonna vent here a minute.

I’ve been living a personal hell for the last three months. More than that actually, but there was a break between the hell periods and now I’m in a new one. 

My mother in law moved in with us two years ago. She stayed for a year in our tiny two bedroom apartment where we already lived with our two children. It was awful, because she is awful. 

We don’t get along. Never have. Our personalities clash, and if I weren’t related to her, I would never seek her out to know her. But she is also an alcoholic. A mean one at that. 

She only has her one son. No husband, no long term boyfriend, no one else to have ever put any of her energy into besides him. I have been with my husband for 14 years - 14 years! and she still hasn’t accepted that he left her to start a family with me. 

So, she screwed up her life, and we felt sorry for her and said she could live with us. She gave up what little she had left to come and do so. It was an absolute mistake. She was kicked out of the apartment in less than two weeks because she kept getting drunk and saying awful, hurtful things to us. She lived in her step-brother’s campers on and off for a few months until he moved on, and then she came back with us. 9 months straight. 

9 months of our parenting being questioned, our spending habits scrutinized, being told I’m lazy and don’t keep a good house. On Christmas Eve last year, I had to call the cops, because a fight got so bad, I locked her out of the house having asked her to leave, and she banged on our doors and windows yelling for everyone to hear, that I was a c*nt.

She still stayed. 

Still got fired from two jobs.

Still had nowhere else to go.

Finally, my husband and I bought a house. It was a refuge. A place I told him I never wanted her to step foot in. And for the first three months she didn’t. She was renting a room from someone, squatting in our apartment, and living out of the car we gave her with a guy she had met. When he took off, she came to live with us.

Temporary. 

That’s what she and my husband said. 

It’s been three months.

She questions our parenting. Is obsessed with our youngest to the point she thinks neither me or her son can take care of her as well as she can. She thinks we’re lazy, uninterested parents because we do’t helicopter, because our schedules don’t allow for constant family fun and activity, because SHE’s the one to take them to park everyday while my husband and I work or make the food they’re going to eat, or whatever other things it is we may have to do. 

When we go out shopping, we are questioned about what we bought, WHY did we spend money on this or that, why did we buy another can of corn when we already three? Why did we go to the thrift store and buy things? Why did we buy the kids more clothes? They have enough. She’s been on my husband about what he eats and how he eats it too late. My house is never clean enough, and I’m lazy because I don’t spend every waking second cleaning it. And the fact I cancel everyone and everything out to watch a TV show on Monday nights? Well, I’m just awful for taking an hour to myself. 

This last week alone, she has gotten drunk and bad mouthed me to my husband while I was in bed, gotten drunk and recorded a private conversation between he and I while we were laying in bed (it was about her and after I had lost my temper and slammed our door), made a comment about us basically hurting our child bc we were arguing in front of her and it was upsetting her (after we had already come to that conclusion ourselves and were trying to calm ourselves down).

We asked her to delete the video. She won’t.

We’ve told her, twice, to leave our home. She won’t. 

In order to be compliant with the lease agreement of our land (we own the house, not the land) we had to add her as an occupant in our home. She gets her mail her, just put our address on her new drivers licence.

She doesn’t work, because she has been trying to figure out some health problems. She has no money, no friends or family here. She has nowhere else to go but here.

But she refuses to respect us and our boundaries, and will outright mock us if we try to set any. She NEEDS us - we don’t need her, and yet she acts as though she has come here to save us with her wisdom and life experiences. 

I am a good, kind-hearted person, but I can no longer feel bad for her, because it is detrimental to my mental health. I was traumatized by her living with her us the first time, and for those few months she was out of my life, I experienced symptoms of PTSD. I did start to see a therapist, but only had a couple of sessions, and honestly, I can’t be okay with her here anyway. 

Anyway. That’s what’s going on with me in between my writing and reblogging. Honestly, the only good thing that has come out of her torture is this fandom. I needed something to focus on, something fun, and the fandom I had been in for years was pretty dead. I already liked 9-1-1, but I never knew all this existed - it didn’t seem like the kind of show where it would, but then I found you all, and I deep-dived in, and it has saved my sanity more than a few times. It has given me something outside of being a mother, a wife, and something good to wrap myself up in when I feel like I’m drowning in self-pity and pain from this woman who will not leave me alone. No matter how much I beg and scream for her to.

#self post #it's starting to get to me #i don't trust her not to do something terrible to us #needed to vent #sorry

[thistangledbrain]

And here’s Day 23, a day late of course LOL

“Can’t live without”....

Firstly, my little family. My husband and sons are the most intriguing, brilliant, captivating, fascinating, funny, caring and kind, (insert other wonderful adjectives here) human beings I’ve ever met in my LIFE. Of course I’m biased...but...*flaps hands excitedly*....I seriously cannot even adequately describe how much I love my family. 😍 This one probably doesn’t have to be explained that much. ☺️ My friends, too - I’ve made some incredible friends through the years - and kept them. This was almost an alien concept when I was younger, so I am actively appreciative of my peeps who know my “weirdness” and absolutely love me for it.

I can’t live without dogs. Dogs are really the most excellent creatures. To know dogs - in my opinion - is quite similar to knowing most humans at their most fundamental levels. They help me understand people, as odd as that may sound. No other animal has adapted to our nature & understands us more than dogs, either, because we’ve co-evolved for thousands of years. (Similar arguments could be said for cats I guess, and I have both - but I’ve noticed only certain breeds of cat tend to be predictably loyal/affectionate to their people. MY favorite is the Siamese. ☺️)
Any time in my life where I’ve had to go without a dog has been a quite miserable time...any time I’ve had to be 100% animal free (like in the barracks), is positively horrid. (I’ll usually spend time helping train a friend’s dog or volunteering at a shelter in my free time, then. In apartments where it was “no pets”, I quietly kept a tank of fancy mice or a reptile & would hide them whenever I knew maintenance was coming LOL.) Dogs are the bridge between me and neurotypicals...and I have extreme difficulty being comfortable with someone who just doesn’t like them. It’s one thing to not want one of your own, but love your friend’s dogs or gladly pet the pooch at the park...it’s another to genuinely not like them. That is truly alien to me & gives me the heebs about what kind of person you might be - if you’re NT/not Autie. I do understand how dogs can come on too strong to some auties.

Nature. Seriously. I do not do well in the concrete jungle of a city. It’s fun to visit sometimes (but exhausting), but I need more than some little trees in planters along the sidewalk. The city was kinda fun to live in for a little while in my early 20s, but I quickly started to look for suburbs when my first kidlet was born, because parks just weren’t enough - and tbh, babies are loud and noisy on their own, so the additional city noise was....no thanks. When I see these subdivisions though, where it’s just row after row of similar houses and yards, hardly any shrubs or trees or anything at all, I cringe - that’s just as bad as the city. People right on top of each other, no real place to.... well, hide I guess. I’m a private person IRL, and don’t like feeling “exposed” to people all around my home.

My tablet (or phone), because that’s where I write, read e books, and watch stuff. (I think everyone in this day and age is very attached to their electronics too, though.) I escape into David Attenborough, animated movies, or music videos when I’m stressed. We have a nice big TV, but it’s more personal and private when it’s just me, my headphones, and a small screen. Sorta makes me feel like I have a little bubble around me.

Space to create/art. This one I can go slightly longer periods without, if I’m sufficiently busy, but I start to get restless & short tempered without somewhere to create stuff. I’m not one of those solely sketchbook-and-pens types (I was when I was young & didn’t have space/money for more art stuff though)... but now, if you can make something out of it, I’m interested in it. That doesn’t mean just paints & sequins and other typical art/craft stuff, either. It means rocks, lots of wood, bones, random bits of metal or glass or junk I found along the railroad tracks, junky old metal gadgets like cheese graters and spoons, and things like that. And then of course the workspaces and tools to do said projects...so like, I have studio space now, but also a whole ass workshop with things like bandsaws and belt sanders. (I’m relocating it all right now and quite disgruntled that it’s not operational yet.)

Edit: Google. I’m old enough to remember having to write all my questions down to wait until our weekly trip to the library. Now, even at 3 am, I can Google things like “mandrill skeleton”, “Tempest Storm”, “how long do hedgehogs live”, “Fermilab recent experiments”, and “what do baby possums eat”, and help identifying a bird, plant, or flower....and it’s instant gratification. BOOM. I think this is a big one, because I can’t tell you how often my brain is positively eaten alive with questions....and a set of Encyclopedias only gets you so far.

So those are my main ones, I guess. There are a few little ones...mainly my big blue stuffed tardigrade, Dempsey - I sleep poorly without him, and he’s the first thing I grab when I’m stressed...certain blankets or clothing, time to meditate, coffee...things like that, but they’re mostly things that just cause mild(er) discomfort or anxiousness if I have to go without (I haven’t had to go without Dempsey yet though...so maybe he IS a main one 🤔). I get very interested in reading about what others simply can’t do without, so feel free to tell me what yours are! ☺️

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance #awareness #actuallyautistic

[survey--s]

54.

Who have you texted today? Just Mike and my mum. I’m not really a big texter or communicator though, I’m so unsocial lol.

What was the last thing to piss you off? I don’t really remember the last time I was properly pissed off about something.

Recently, who in your house has gotten on your nerves the most? The only person I live with is Mike, so I guess he’s the default answer here lol. 

What at all has pissed you off today, if anything at all? Nothing as of yet, it’s been a really good day so far, all things considered.

How nice of a person are you, honestly? I don’t think I’m ever unpleasant to peoples’ faces but I don’t think I’m a great friend, really. I just don’t have that desire or motivation to speak to eople and spend time with them all that often.

What good things have happened today? I had a lie-in. Mike did the housework before he took the dog out so I didn’t have to. I wore my new clothes from Fat Face and they all fit and are super cute and comfortable.

What have you recently gotten the most compliments on? I haven’t really had compliments on anything recently.

Who was the last person you made plans with? Mike and my mother-in-law.

Do you get angry often? When was the last time you got into a fight with someone? Is this something that you do regularly? No, not really. I get pissed off often but it rarely ever develops into a full blown argument or fight. I don’t even remember the last time I fought with anyone.

Have you ever wanted to be homeschooled? If so, why? If not, why not? Do you know anyone who is, or have you ever been homeschooled yourself? I always loved the idea of being home-schooled. I had a really miserable time of it at school and in hindsight that was due to my Aspergers. Schools are great if you’re NT and confident but they can be hell if you’re not. My parents would never have agreed to it though, sadly.

Do you have a lot of clothes? Yeah, most of my spare/fun money goes on clothes and wax melts.

Have you ever got your phone taken away cause you were in trouble? No. I always paid for my phone bills though, so it wasn’t like my parents had the right to take it from me.

What was the last meal you ate? I had two pain au chocolat this morning, plus a coffee and a glass of smoothie. Which reminds me, I need to look at the Tesco shop soon to make sure I have everything on there that I need.

Where is the next place you will travel to? Wherever I take the dog for his walk tomorrow.

Have you cried today at all? No.

What were you doing at 8:00 this morning? I was in bed, messing around on my phone.

Do you have any gay friends? Yes.

What is something you currently want? Uh, not much at the moment. I’m just enjoying being off work still, ha.

Do you like to have long hair or short hair? Longer hair, but not too long. It’s currently a few inches past my shoulders which is about right for me.

What was the last thing that was bought for you? Clothes.

Do you like to eat ice? In summer, yeah.

What was the highlight of your week? Going out to the beach with all my friends and the dogs.

Are you good looking? I don’t think I’m unpleasant looking.

Last thing you ate?

 My mom had these shrimp nugget things she wanted me to try for dinner.

Last thing you drank? Coffee.

When was the last time you had your heart broken? About five years ago.

How do you feel about your hair right now?

 It’s fine? It’s just tied up in a messy bun.

Have you ever been IN a wedding?

 Just my own.

Are your toes always painted? No, I haven’t painted my toenails for ages.

What states have you lived in? I’ve never lived in America. I’ve lived in three UK counties and one French province.

#survey #surveys #questions