#Once again I am so sorry for my ability to Talk lmao
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hello tumblr user kanonavi who is 1/3rd of the reason i started rereading tgcf. i have come to collect my personal apology for the emotional damages inflicted upon me for the past 5 days. and i have also come with THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS (mostly feelings)
- icb i put off this reread so long hualian are so romance. theyre jsut Romance......... absolutely floored by every throwaway bit of dialogue they had....... in shambles forever....,
- sqx arc was not as painful as the first few times i read it bc i now stand with my cancelled wife (he xuan) I STILL LOVE SQX AND THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD. BUT HX WAS REAL FOR ALL OF THAT. i love revenge
- i wanna know your thoughts on ling wen bc u mentioned having mixed feelings on her but i loved her so bad all the way to the end so im curious ljdkdjf
- i am not immune to backstory arc pt2. read it last last (?) night at like 3am and cried myself to sleep its just so gutting every timeeeeeee.... the hc plot that builds in that arc is ofc one of my favorites in the entire novel though :')
- the chapter w the cave of statues took me like 2+ hours to get through because i was feeling so insane abt it
i feel bad dropping this block of text in ur askbox sorry. will leave it there for now LOL
Omg hiiiii tumblr user stardust-make-a-wish welcome back from the yaoi cocaine pit :3 I know you're here to collect emotional damages, but I must make it known that I'm not even remotely sorry <3
Also you should feel bad for yourself instead of for me because I can only respond to huge blocks of text with even bigger blocks of text, so (TGCF Spoilers Ahead) and also I am so sorry lmaooooo
UGH you're so right that hualian is the most romance forever they are just so *clenches fists and sobs*....... They're always there for each other and they're so in love and they've been through so much and I just want them to be able to rest because it's what they deserve.
I will never once say that Hu Xuan wasn't justified in everything he did cuz like. Shi Wudu had it coming what a piece of shit. But at the same time Qingxuan is my wife and I will not tolerate my wife being harmed. So like revenge slay yes but also I am still cancelling He Xuan and spraying him with the water bottle (even though he is already very very damp).
Yesyesyes Ling Wen. So my thought about Ling Wen is that she kinda girlbossed a little too close to the sun, but at the same time you look at her circumstances both past and present and have to understand why she did all of that. It already would have been hard enough for her to gain any kind of recognition as a woman, much less in the Heavenly Court, so her ruthlessness is completely understandable. But at the same time, I don't really think the Brocade Immortal deserved what she did to him nor was taking Bai Wuxiang's side in the final conflict a real cool thing of her to do. I can't fully be a hater though because her own thoughts about everything are clearly so nuanced (See: The final convo she had with Xie Lian about the Brocade Immortal, which I am still thinking so incredibly hard about to this day).
I think that Ling Wen is interesting in the same way that I find other characters like Mu Qing, He Xuan, and Yin Yu interesting. It's in the sense that even if I don't really agree with all of the actions that they took, it's very easy to look at them and come to an understanding of why they did what they did. And I have varying degrees of like for all of the characters I just listed, but that doesn't change the fact that they're all Compelling. So it's almost like a begrudging respect that I feel for Ling Wen, if I were to boil it down into simple terms.
aaaaaaaaaa The Horrors(tm) :sob: Even though I could talk about Xie Lian's arc through that part of his backstory for a million years, you're so right that Hua Cheng's arc through it is also so interesting to watch. It really goes to prove that Hua Cheng is different from everyone else in Xie Lian's life up until this point, because yes there's the very obvious throughline of Hua Cheng wanting to protect Xie Lian (rather than expecting his protection), but even more importantly that feeling never changes even when Xie Lian has his mini corruption arc.
Like, Hua Cheng fell in love with the pure and virtuous Crown Prince of Xianle but not for that quality. Instead of being ashamed and looking at Xie Lian with scorn when he was like "What if I kill everyone actually" Hua Cheng is like "Then let me be your sword". There's the element of not wanting Xie Lian to dirty himself that Hua Cheng carries for the entire story but the point is in that he is not a voice who would tell Xie Lian to stop having those thoughts if it's truly what he wants (Unlike what his parents or Feng Xin and Mu Qing would probably say).
I'm going to write an essay about their character dynamic one day istg I am chewing through the drywall
The cave statues chapter......... *passes away*. Like on one hand that chapter is so funny because yes Hua Cheng is just an absolute certified freak (POV my roommate telling me earlier on in my reading that HC is a porn addict and me being like "pssht noooo" but then getting to this chapter several months later and being like "O h.") but on the other hand THE CONFESSION??????? Like. All I can do is gesture wildly at the storyboard animatic that someone made of that scene on YouTube while absolutely fucking sobbing. There is a reason why the cover of volume 6 felt somehow more intimate than the cover of volume 4 where they're literally making out.
Anyway I'm patting Hua Cheng on the head like It's okay buddy Xie Lian loves you because you're a certified freak, he's seen too much of this world to be weirded out even a little bit. Which is why those two are perfect for each other <3
I'm glad you had so much fun on your reread, have fun with the brainworms :3
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look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)
genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst
pairing: yoongi x reader
summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
word count: 16k 🙈
contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡
A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜
A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜
an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!
read on AO3!
chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten
~*~
You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.
You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.
The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”
You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?
“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.
“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.
You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.
“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”
Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.
“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.
When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.
You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.
“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”
The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.
Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.
Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.
Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?
Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.
But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.
Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.
“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.
“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.
~*~
Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.
Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.
She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”
“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”
The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”
Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.
“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.
She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”
You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.
“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”
There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”
It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.
Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.
“Are you fucking kiddin—”
“Hey.”
A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.
“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.
It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.
Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.
“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”
“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”
The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.
He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.
“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”
Of fucking course.
The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.
And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.
“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”
The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.
It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.
~*~
You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.
When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.
Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.
“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.
He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.
The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.
“You wear glasses?”
The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”
“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.
“Wow, glasses? Really?”
“What?”
“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.
You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”
You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”
The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”
You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”
He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.
“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.
“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.
“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”
You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”
“Guess so.”
The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.
His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.
You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.
The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.
At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.
“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”
“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.
“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”
He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”
“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”
The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.
“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”
They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.
“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”
As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.
“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.
The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.
You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.
“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”
Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”
“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”
Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.
“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”
“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”
Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”
You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”
“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.
“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.
“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”
All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”
“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.
“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”
“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.
“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”
“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.
“Is it?”
“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”
You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”
“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.
“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”
A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.
“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.
Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.
You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.
And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.
A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.
You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”
He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”
“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”
“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”
You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”
“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”
“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.
“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”
The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”
Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”
You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”
“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.
“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.
The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.
“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”
“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.
After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.
“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”
You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”
“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.
“So, can I be honest?”
“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.
“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”
You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”
The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”
Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”
A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”
Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.
“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”
“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”
Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”
While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.
A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.
Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.
The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.
So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.
Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.
“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.
“I am?”
“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.
“So are you,” Yoongi counters.
“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”
“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”
“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”
Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”
You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”
There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”
You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”
The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.
True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.
There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.
Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.
Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.
“Are you nervous?”
When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”
“The Grammys?”
“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”
The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?
~*~
You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.
Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.
“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?
But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.
“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”
“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”
He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him.
Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”
When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.
He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.
Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.
“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.
“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”
He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.
“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”
Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.
He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.
“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.
“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.
“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.
But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.
He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.
“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.
It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.
“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”
“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”
When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”
You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”
Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.
“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.
“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.
“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”
Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.
“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”
His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”
The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.
Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.
You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”
His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.
And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.
It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.
Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.
“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”
“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”
“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.
Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.
This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.
“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”
And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.
The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.
“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue.
You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.
“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”
There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.
Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.
Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.
Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.
With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.
But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.
Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.
“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.
He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”
Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.
His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”
“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”
“Are you asking for my help?”
Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.
When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.
“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”
“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.
His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.
You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.
His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”
You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.
“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.
As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.
“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.
And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.
“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.
“He has good taste.”
You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.
By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.
As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.
“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.
“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”
You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.
“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.
“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.
“Do you know Sakamoto?”
You hum a no as you shake your head.
His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”
A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”
Yoongi doesn��t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”
It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.
“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.
You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.
Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.
You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt.
Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.
As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.
They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.
You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.
“And the Grammy goes to…”
You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.
Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.
But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.
You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.
Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.
There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.
You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.
He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.
“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”
“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.
The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.
Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.
When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.
“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”
Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.
“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”
“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”
Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”
Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.
“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”
Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.
“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”
Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”
When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.
“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.
But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.
Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.
Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.
“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”
~*~
The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.
“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.
Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.
It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.
You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”
He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”
You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”
Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”
The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”
As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”
“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”
A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”
You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.
Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.
“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”
Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.
You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.
“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”
You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”
With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.
“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”
Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.
“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.
“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”
He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”
“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”
Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”
“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”
“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”
You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”
“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”
There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”
You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”
“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”
For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.
“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”
“Sounds like a good story.”
“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”
“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”
You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”
“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”
You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”
“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”
“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”
Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”
With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.
“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.
“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”
“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”
Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”
“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”
Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”
“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.
“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”
When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.
After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.
With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.
Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.
“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”
You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.
“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”
The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.
“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”
The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.
Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”
And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.
Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”
When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”
“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”
His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”
Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”
“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.
If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.
You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.
The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”
Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.
“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.
“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.
With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.
You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”
“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”
When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.
“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.
Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.
Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.
The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.
“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”
He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”
You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”
A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.
“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”
Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”
“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”
“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.
Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.
He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.
The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.
“Hey, we’re closing in five.”
You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.
“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”
Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.
Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.
“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”
“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.
You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”
“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.
“You’re what?”
It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.
“In love with you.”
His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.
“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.
The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.
In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.
“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.
“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.
You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”
“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.
“It was,” you echo. “Really.”
The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.
Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.
With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.
“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”
“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.
“Uh-oh.”
“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”
There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”
“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”
“And?”
You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.
“On?” you snap, impatient.
“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”
His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”
“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”
You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”
“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”
You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.
The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.
You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.
There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.
Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.
Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”
You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."
As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.
chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten
A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜
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fic writer twenty questions
tagged by @lokibuswrites :) this was fun to do to take a break from editing lol
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1. how many works do you have on ao3? for this pseud 18, in total across pseuds about 100+
2. what's your total ao3 word count? again for this pseud 118,850, across pseuds is like? around 500k
3. what fandoms do you write for? presently i only really write for the cod fandom, though sometimes i dabble in oc works. i've written for marvel + iasip + IT before though. and one fic for umbrella academy lol
4. top five fics by kudos (just doing this for ghcst for most of the next questions because i am too lazy to go digging lmao)
- riff — ghost h/c
- herbs, honey, and your favourite flowers — dragon shifter!ghost
- the wrong kind of contractor — and they were roommates
- clear softness in our hymn — wingfic
- grain — temporary soap mcd
5. do you respond to comments? yes!! or i try my best to. sometimes i forget or procrastinate even though i enjoy responding. but then again i do that for a lot of other things too
6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? genuinely i do not have an answer for this being that i am a primarily fluff/happy ending writer. i've written mcd drabbles before but i'm not counting those since they aren't on ao3 nor are they full fics
7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? this is also a difficult question for the same reasoning but i think maple taffy is one of the happiest
8. do you get hate on fics? no not typically. i think i've gotten hate one (1) time in 10+ years of writing fanfic
9. do you write smut? occasionally but it's not my strong suit so i don't do it often
10. craziest crossover? maybe plea for warmth? whenever I write an AU/"crossover" it's never really a crossover but that one actually has hunger games characters within it so. i guess that's the closest thing
11. have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i am aware of. i hope not
12. have you ever had a fic translated? once for sure, but maybe twice—russian and spanish respectively. i've wanted to translate my own fics into french before but i'm too lazy lol. made me so happy that anyone liked my fic so much that they'd want to take the time to translate it
13. have you ever co-written a fic before? yes!! only once that actually got posted, but i'm currently working on another now :)
14. all time favourite ship? honestly not sure! but tbh ghoap is pretty high up on my list
15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i don't want to talk about it
16. what are your writing strengths? not to be annoying but i honestly don't know. i like to think i'm decent enough at most things but i don't know if i've ever had a stand-out trait in my writing abilities. maybe dialogue. sometimes
17. what are your writing weaknesses? pacing is my worst enemy because i always just want to get to a scene or an ending as soon as possible even if that's not the goal. i physically cannot write slow burn
18. thoughts on dialogue in another language? maybe i'm biased because i study and speak multiple languages but i always love seeing other languages incorporated into dialogue—to an extent, anyway. it's definitely something that has to be balanced like just about anything else
19. first fandom you wrote in? too embarrassed to tell the truth so we're just gonna go with marvel. technically still one of the first
20. favourite fic you've written? for this pseud/fandom, probably pine, sea salt, and the taste of cherry cordial. grishaverse has my heart <3
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tags: @myriadblvck @forestshadow-wolf (sorry if you have already been tagged in one of these!!) + open invitation to everyone else :)
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omg Cat a sleeping beauty Dazatsu AU sounds amazing?? I'd love to hear about that if you'd like to share 👀 I really need to just binge read your dazatsu fics, I'm in the middle of crescendo right now 💖
Of course I'm very interested in your fyozai one, too!!
aaah crescendo is a little embarrassing cause it's the first thing I ever started writing for them hahah 🙈 I hope you enjoy it!
I tried to write the sleeping beauty AU for an event once but I didn't make it in time because I spent too much time deciding between:
Dazai getting himself sleep-cursed on purpose
Dazai not being under a curse at all, just lying there in some abandoned castle and pretending to be asleep to mess with people who are trying to find him (lmao)
Nevertheless, in this AU Atsushi is a novice member of the royal guard who's trying to find the lost prince and bring him home. He finds Dazai, kisses him awake, and then there's a bit of a misunderstanding between them as they're on the way back to the castle because he doesn't know he woke up Dazai with a true love's kiss. He thinks any kiss would do the trick. Dazai, of course, will not explain the truth outright.
It's a mostly going to be a silly comedy. I'll give you a small excerpt at the end 😄
the fyozai one... it was supposed to be a scene of them talking post this manga arc with a small tease about fyodor's ability but with every chapter the manga gets further and further away from what I envisioned and idk what to do with it anymore.... I really want to write more fyozai though! it's just that whenever I'm in BSD mood dazatsu overtakes my brain. I can't help it
Here goes nothing, Atsushi thought and closed the gap between himself and the prince’s cold lips.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the prince’s eyes suddenly snapped open.
With a yelp, Atsushi leaped back, his heart thundering in his chest. The prince blinked a few times, slowly taking in his surroundings until his face turned into a scowl.
“I’m awake? Tch.”
Atsushi stared at the man, dumbfounded.
Did he just 'tch' at me? What kind of reaction is that?
“Here I was, taking the best nap of my life, and you dare to interrupt me...”
Dare to interrupt? Atsushi balled up his fists, feeling his annoyance bubble inside him. He didn’t exactly expect the prince to fall to his knees in gratitude, but he wouldn’t mind a simple thanks, at least.
“A nap?! You were cursed! I’ve just saved you!”
The prince scoffed. “Did I ask you to save me?”
Atsushi’s anger dissipated in an instant. What did that mean? “I...” Atsushi started, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get the words out.
He looked away from the prince.
Is he mad at me? Fantastic. Not only am I a failure of a Royal Guard, but I also offended the royal heir. And what happens when he learns I kissed him to wake him up?!
The prince didn’t seem to even notice Atsushi’s turmoil. Instead, he collapsed back onto the bed of flowers, sending some of the petals flying into the air.
“Ah, I’m going to miss this place,” he sighed. “Really, you have no idea how rested I feel now. Sleeping curses are the best. You should try it sometime.”
Atsushi had to do something to save his skin. He bowed as deeply as it was physically possible. “Your Highness, please accept my sincerest apologies—”
“Nah, what is done is done,” the prince interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can’t really curse me back to sleep, can you?”
Atsushi winced. “No, I can’t...”
“Right.” The prince sat up again and jumped off the bed of flowers, leaving a trail of petals on the floor behind him as he made his way to Atsushi. One was also stuck to his hair, and Atsushi’s hand itched with a need to take it off him.
“And none of that ‘Your Highness’. Call me Dazai.” The prince leaned down to whisper into Atsushi’s ear. “I think we’re already acquainted intimately enough to skip the pleasantries, don’t you think?”
Oh god, he knows about the kiss.
Atsushi jumped away as if he was burned. “Again, I am so sorry!”
Dazai laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s much better to be woken up by a kiss than a punch. Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of experiencing the latter a few times.” He threw an arm around Atsushi’s shoulders. “But you know, if you ever need some kissing practice, you know where to find me.”
Atsushi pushed him off.
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Aaa sorry for the bombarding of Modern AU Q’s but ..
1. What would be Zenitsu’s favorite Christmas movie? Who would watch it with him?
2. Very specific question but how would Zenitsu react to being showed the bumble from Rudolph? I’ve heard mixed reactions from people saying it rather terrified them as a kid or they loved it
3. How would Zenitsu do in a school environment?
4. What would the Uzui’s think of Zenitsu’s friends (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Kanao, Nezuko, Genya) if he brought them over? If they were his same age
5. How would the Uzui’s manage Zenitsu’s birthday?
Please keep them coming, I love them! Honestly I’ve put a bit of thought into a modern AU, not necessarily to write a full fic about but it helps me work on their dynamics in OMWF
1. I am once again trying not to out myself as someone who does not know recent children’s media…that said, that 1970s Sesame Street Christmas special. It’s musical (the songs slap) and not super high stakes or stressful so it’s not going to freak him out. (Please note that I was not a child in the 70s lmao I was just a Sesame Street girlie)
I think they might watch it with him once. And then just put it on for him over and over and over again.
I was actually going to suggest those cheesy romance ones, but I think they’re too high concept for a young kid to understand leaving your big city job and rich fiancé for the charming Christmas tree farmer who understands the true meaning for Christmas :/
Oh, also the Santa Buddies movies. With the puppies that talk? Suma is a huge fan as well tbh.
2. Bumble is terrifying and I do not think he would actually make it through that entire movie 😭 he hides as soon as it’s on screen and that’s in the first few minutes, I think?
3. Canonically (per Kimetsu Academy) Zenitsu doesn’t do well in school, but he only applies himself to subjects he likes. I imagine school is probably a nightmare for him, it’s loud and overwhelming, he doesn’t make friends easily, and he cries a lot which frankly ruins a toddler’s street cred. I cannot imagine Uzui as an understanding parent when it comes to homework either tbh. So it’s a bad experience all around.
4. I don’t think Tengen would mind them, but he would mind being used as a babysitter. He wouldn’t really want to entertain a bunch of kids…but can you even imagine him trying to drop Zenitsu off on a play date? There would be so much screaming. So play dates are always at his house and he’s kinda mad about it (but refuses to work on the whole separation anxiety thing. That’s totally not his problem…)
5. I have a lot of thoughts on how Zenitsu’s birthday was decided upon (I do not believe he would realistically know what his birthday is) and my personal headcanon that I was going to write into a fic and haven’t yet, is that Jigoro assigns the day as a “this is the first day as a changed person” kind of deal.
That said; Uzui uses his birthday to flaunt his wealth and party planning abilities and has a huge blowout that he also invites his adult friends to, even if they don’t actually know Zenitsu. Despite the overstimulating environment, the actual highlight of the day is that Giyu actually showed up.
#fic talk#I was so scared of that snow monster as a kid!! I loved the rest of the movie tho I have probably seen it 500 times
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hello! take your time with doing this, just thought it'd be fun to figure out which (pjo/mean girls) character you'd ship me with<3
I'm fem presenting, she/they, pansexual. i have really wavy (and sometimes frizzy) dark brown hair that goes down to my back (it's pretty curly after washing though) and i also have brown eyes! im the brown triad because my skin, too, is infact brown lmao (desi)
also have glasses! normal half moon shape if that matters?
i generally have a bit of a resting bitch face (I DONT MEAN IT I PROMISE) and mostly only smile a lot when I'm talking to people I like. unfortunately that makes people NOT COME UP TO ME !!!! DKDKFK :(
i imprint on people really soon (bpd) and like. absolutely if someone is nice to me for a minute I'll try my best to be their friend forever, but also it doesn't often show how enthusiastic I am for a friendship
very autistic so I need clear cut statements or I'll overthink to the point of having a THESIS about how much someone hates me
im kind of hyper. very very VERY hyper, and my love language is physical touch + words of appreciation.
bit of a mom friend - like. im also the therapist friend and i appreciate it <33
personality tests describe me as like, creative and analytic and shit? im fatally realistic but still a romantic to a point. also an absolute NERD, YES! also very protective. I've punched people for hurting my friends before yes
I'm not very active, my hobbies include reading and literary analysis and also, eating lmao.
idk if I should include anything else? sorry if this isn't enough for you 😭😭 um. if it helps I'm a daughter of hecate from like two quizzes, a daughter of venus from three !
Your Fandom Ship(s): Gretchen Wieners (Mean Girls) and Clarisse La Rue (PJO, luckyyyy)
OK, the main reason I ship you with Gretchen out of all the mean girls characters is I think you could be really helpful to her as a nice person and I think that maybe at first she thought you were a bit intimidating because we are resting bitch face, but eventually got over it and realized you were really nice person and especially after Regina she needs a lot of people that she can count on and a lot of truly kind souls which I feel like is a place that you could fulfill because you seem like a kind person and I feel like when you get on deeper terms of a relationship, you guys would actually be really well together and helping solve some of your Own personal issues and just have a really beneficial relationship. I thinkA as autism. She would be a bit confused, but once she got the hang of it, she would be pretty good at giving you clear and cut instructions at least the best of her abilities.
OK, you guys would be like an insanely cute couple. I just see kind of like enemies to lovers tension here but I mean honestly I just love the idea of you too together. I think that it would be funny for her to meet you because she would definitely think you’re kind of tough because you’re resting bitch face and then once she gets past that and sees that you’re really nice person I feel like you would kind of melt her heart a little bit and I mean, give me wrong. She would absolutely go rough on you at first, but I mean once she realizes your limitations. She would respect those and I just feel like you guys would be a really good couple together. She would know all your autism and boundaries solidly into the relationship, and yeah, just be super awesome and supportive and again the enemies lovers tension. I feel like it’s kind of rare in her life to have someone who really has her back and I feel like she thought it was super hot. The first time you punched someone for making fun of how muscular she was for a girl or something like that, and I don’t know I just feel like she feels like you really have her back and you guys have a nice stable relationship. 
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I'm sure you're probably tired of talking about it, but how /would/ Atreo respond to a darling who wasn't getting pregnant? Like if they were unable to or too sickly to maintain it? I feel like he's the type of dick to blame them for everything and try to convince them to do better as though that's actually something they had control over lmao
(I’m sorry, you waited like the longest time for a response ;;)
I’m not tired of you guys being interested in Atreo, so no worries and I’ll happily oblige! I actually had to look up if sharks have a habit of forcing partners regardless of their ability to conceive (you know age and the like, I think dolphins are more dangerous in that aspect tho) but I didn’t get a 100% answers to my questions, so this is my vague headcanon not based on reality.
At first he'd probably keep trying and trying no matter how much its explained to him that it's impossible. He'd get more desperate and aggressive over the topic and it'll create a real sore spot for him for sure. In that aspect he'd probably demand they work harder to catch all of his release and open up for him, but no matter what he does, he can't escape reality.
Atreo will definitely go through a depression of sorts, his dreams crushed (like his darling) and he might neglect and avoid them in that time until they come to him, begging for care and apologizing. Seeing them distraught (about having to suffer more) probably will cause him to realize he's not the only one in pain about their non-existing family (it's denial) so he'll promise them he'll take 'care of it'.
By stealing someone elses pup.
The parents might survive... if they are cooperative.
See that's almost as if they have a family. Even if the child now suffers too and the darling now has a strange, aggressive, sharp-toothed baby in their arms and their stomach is still empty. In fact, darling has two strange, aggressive, sharp-toothed babies now and if they are not careful, Atreo will add one each year... like an anniversary gift. Once again, the great Atreo solved the problems occuring in his nest and can now go back to devote his time to his darling and now child. Hurray!
Honestly, he wasn’t that big of a deal. He could potentially be of the same pack as the three orcas of the orca tribe (orcas have fucking large packs I didn’t know that before, like 40), but I haven’t planned shit on that story yet and I don’t plan to very soon. And unless I plan a fight scene in the future (which I don’t know yet if I want), it’ll be unlikely he’ll be mentioned again. Ever. Please don’t get hung up on the details, I am happy to discuss headcanons/Atreo/stuff like that and add to them, but please don’t be pushy about new content.
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HELLO
ivan, chuuya, fukuchi, tetchou, AAAAND
yosano
HELLO!!!!!!!!! THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG
ivan goncharov
first impression: oh how did fyodor fuck you up (did not know/realize he was lobotomized either)
impression now: ohh he's my silly. his english dub voice gives me gender envy. i like his eyes. he is weirdly a well-written lobotomized guy. i looked into actual lobotomy for you
favorite moment: his entire fight scene was good and more people should talk about it. signed yours truly me
idea for a story: primarily? a general character study, however,
- bubble bath. it is a character study with him and shibusawa. not set in canon
- highschool au. he deserves to be a normal highschool student. he would swear a sweater vest. i will die on this hill
unpopular opinion: his character is really fucking good and yes his ability's name is on the nose but i hope we see him again. i don't like shipping him in canon though bc he can't. Consent. Fyovan should not exist. also i think more people should be paying attention to the bsd side characters
favorite relationship: shibuvan/shibusawa x ivan and you know it. my #1 comfort ship in my heart. they are so cute <3
favorite headcanon: he has tics and freckles. also sometimes i like making him trans
the others are below v
chuuya nakahara
first impression: oh he's cool
impression now: I WANT TO BE YOU YOUR CHARACTER IS SO COOL GIVE ME YOUR GENDER YOUR CHARACTER SCRATCHES MY BRAIN YOUR ABILITY IS SO COOL. I AM NOT NORMAL.
favorite moment: THE HELICOPTER SCENE OH MY GODD
idea for a story: i have many!
- hirotsu visits him during a stormy night and he's suffering w chronic pains but hirotsu gets him his meds. they get to talk a little. they are silly to me
- summer camp au w dazai they are at war constantly
- i have too many, but to briefly summarize the rest: fan dancer and kitsune au, meiji era/period au, chuuya and kouyou fic/character study, there will be more after i read stormbringer
unpopular opinion: he probably doesn't have anger issues. might just be agitated easily or because of dazai. also people need to stop getting his character soo wrong because the amount of mischaracterization that surrounds that man is NOT funny
favorite relationship: people sleep on his and hirotsu's possible dynamic. next one is well. okay. it's obvious, but soukoku, i just like their dynamic whether it's romantic or not. absolute menaces. shoutout to kunichuuzai also, but i honestly cannot ship that man all the time.
bonus platonic relationships i really like is the idea of tetchou and chuuya becoming good fucking friends. let chuuya have so many friends to make up for the ones he's lost
favorite headcanon(s): freckles chuuya, lightning scars chuuya, nonbinary chuuya (i dont use they/them for them all the time but i am a believer in it), chronic pains, autistic, metal/rock (the song genre) lover, sanrio and ocean life special interest, also demisexual/demiromantic !! sorry they have the most. favoritism is showing
fukuchi ochi
first impression: oh doesn't he kill everybody's faves. meh
impression now: YOUR CHARACTER AND WRITING IS SO OVERLOOKED. YOU ARE DAD MATERIAL AND THAT SCARES ME BUT IM ALSO :D ABOUT IT
favorite moment: the entire fucking fight he has with atsushi and akutagawa. you don't understand he was both terrifying and also that gave me an actual adrenaline rush once i watched it in the anime. the music was so good. also the scene w aya !!
idea for a story: the main one is a fukufuku fic where it goes through how overtime, fukuzawa in fukuchi's eyes is more like a wolf than a human being. it's his way of making it hurt less when he has to hurt him. i cant remember any others, but i hope there will be more
unpopular opinion: can the fandom not hate on him so much lmao i dont mind seeing people dislike him that's valid but like. give him a chance i swear. he also can be trusted with children
favorite relationship: him and fukuzawa's (romantically or platonically idrc). holy shit. holy shit. holy shi-
also bonus shoutout to him and ranpo's!! it is not shown a lot but augh. of course i love his relationship with the hunting dogs too but fukufuku sits at the top
favorite headcanon: hm. i can't think of any rn
tetchou suehiro
first impression: AUTISTIC
impression now: AUTISTIC
favorite moment: them and kenji's fight >>>>>
idea for a story: they are a samurai and they meet jouno along the way. they stay with fukuchi after having a rough run-in with an innkeeper and some people who are after them. they smell like blossoms
unpopular opinion: i wish people wrote them beating up people more they're literally one of the strongest characters (physically specifically) of bsd
favorite relationship: them and jouno's is peak
favorite headcanon: asexual and nonbinary tetchou for the win. my most favorite one of all time though is them being half-taiwanese :]
akiko yosano (surprise???)
first impression: please be well written.
impression now: she is so cool!! i wish she had more screentime but oh my god she is so cool <33333 she is fun in the manga and i love her so much
favorite moment: her backstory i wanna say. we don't get too much content of her but damn her backstory hits hard. it adds so much to her character and i love her a lot
idea for a story: she and fukuzawa go shopping together. i think she also deserves some fics w fukuzawa. they have a fun time !!
unpopular opinion: not a fan of kousano
favorite relationship: her and ranpo's. siblings your honor, absolute siblings, ALSO THAT ONE SCENE IN HER BACKSTORY WHERE HE KNEELS DOWN TO HER AND SHES CRYING AND SJJSDHHFBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
favorite headcanon: aro/ace yosano is cool. very cool. aro/ace yosano.? holds her out to you. Consider
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I'm drawing Kakashi for the first time (as much as I love them, I rarely ever draw naruto characters so this is a little fun and new for me) and I'm struggling a little bc I'm trying to draw him relaxed, reclining with pakkun (in the way I recline with my cat) and I'm realizing there's something so personal abt drawing him in such a vulnerable pose ig. Like? I'm very tired too rn so maybe I'm being extra emotional and rambly but there are so few scenes of kakashi in canon where he's not wearing the jounin vest, where he's alone and relaxed and out of uniform. And I didn't realize it until I was trying to think back to other similar scenes and there really weren't any. and I'm kind of mesmerized by how you draw him because you capture that so so well, your art is gorgeous but it's also so real and expressive in a way that shows a lot of practice and a lot of love. Idk i think I've said this before and I'm sorry if it's annoying that I'm saying it again (I'll just shut up after this lol) but I went to an art school and I had massive burnout and only really started drawing again in the past 6 months and you were one of my inspirations 2 start drawing again and I'm still not as good as I'd like to be but I draw so much more now and having an actual passion for art has led to a huge improvement, so thank you and thank u for bearing with me and my sleep-deprived rambles. I think my original point got sidetracked. I forgot why i started writing this ask.
dkgjhsdgkjdshg no i think you're 100% right abt the kakashi relaxed thing, even when we see him "relaxed" he doesn't ever really Look relaxed. like
here he is chilling out in the hot springs. this man does not look relaxed but he DOES look exhausted and maybe a little like he's gotten lost. somebody help this confused man find the exit.
anyway art + motivation talk beneath the cut
djhsdkjghsdkjhg thank u for all the compliments abt my art, i do work really hard in order to draw expressive characters, and spend a lot of time paying attention to how the small details in posture and expression change how the character comes across, and im glad it pays off!
also yeah no, similarly, once i left art school (when the pandemic hit) i did have a good 6 months where i did not pick up the pencil even once, and like, usually i feel rlly bad or guilty when i'm not drawing, but my burnout was real bad and i was straight up angry abt everything dgkjhsdgkjh so i just...didn't draw for like 6 months. i didn't even feel bad about it bc i was too busy being angry
and i had a bad relationship with art at the time and eventually realized i kind of had to like? make a different relationship with art—like, try to stop seeing art as something which gave me fundamental worth as a human being, or part of who i am? you know? that's a LOT of pressure to put on just...something that i do.
if i took that kind of approach to literally any other task in my life, i'd never do it. imagine thinking that the way and style with which you descend the stairs gives you your worth as a person and if you don't do it exactly right then it means you're worthless as a person? buddy i'd just find a way to go down and out through the window LMAO
i think this is the thing which gives a lot of people burnout, it's exhausting to be constantly working on something and ALSO believe that if you fuck it up even a little, it's because you are the fuckup, and a fundamental failure of a person. god thats so much pressure.
anyway so i decided to make a naruto art blog because i don't even like naruto That Much but my best friend had been trying to get me into it for years (ty kate ilu kate), and so any art that i made would be purely for fun, wouldn't have anything to do with my self worth, and might make kate laugh too, and that's why this blog exists! and taking the pressure off of creating art like that has been enormously helpful to my mental health and my ability to create, also i take breaks alllllll the time, i'm like...way healthier about my art thanks to that, and also just...a nicer person, i think?
anyway i'm very glad that i inspired you to get back into art but i'm far more glad that you've found a passion for it, cultivating that passion and joy is so important
#a lot of the way i approach art is bc i worked with kids for a while and like. u can kinda tell when a kid is at the breaking point w/ art#where they're like ''if one more thing goes wrong i am going to Lose It''#+ at that point as a ''teacher'' u have to pick between giving them critique on their artwork to improve OR letting it go + saying their#art is good and they're doing really well#and i always pick the second one—LIKE. once the kid is no longer feeling soooo frustrated abt their art that they're at a breakin point?#THEN we can talk critique. and even then i will still tell them what they're doing well#until theyre at that point tho its all ''yeah!!! you're killing it! look at these new skills you're learning! look how you're improving!''#''look how funny/beautiful/exciting/cool your piece is!!!!''#because first and foremost. i think that art should be enjoyed#having creation as a friend and ally vs A Duty is sooo important#TO BE CLEAR LIKE. this is also still technically a form of critique#i dont just say ''good job champ! great work doing art!'' if u wanna compliment art and have it mean something you do have to be#specific about what is good...not ''that looks great!'' but ''wow you draw really fabulously detailed noses!#or ''wow the fashion you're drawing is really cool—i wish i had that jacket!'' like.#as in all things. compliments and praise are only meaningful if they are /meant/ and you cant fake that#MY POINT IS. if we want to take the pressure off ourselves with art. i think we also gotta treat ourslves like this#look at what we're doing and compliment things we genuinely think weve improved upon. love our successes#nothing better for the ego than to compare new art to old art and look at what weve changed#i should do some redraws at some point#my jutsu
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Drop your Pokemon thoughts! OC, fave Pokemon, fave region, fave characters! Anything pal
(Pokemon has me on chokehold, every update they will drag me back to the rabbit hole)
Wow calm down buddy, I am still very new to pokemon XD
I think I mentioned, but Decidueye is my fave for no other reason other than he was my first pokemon in Unite and I loved his design, he's my baby
Idk much about regions and stuff like that though, the little I know of it would have to be Alola for fashion alone, I'm more of the type to use loose clothes for warm weather because I'm Brazilian and where I grew up in is a fucking desert lmao so it reminds me a little of home
For characters...sorry I don't have any :( again, I'm new still
I wasn't allowed to indulge in pokemon, I've only watched a handful of episodes that would, by chance, air during the time I stayed at my grandma on Saturdays where I had no restrictions on the TV
I dont remember anyone's name besides Ash's lol, so even if I did have a fave, I wouldn't be able to tell the names. Tho I think I did like that one girl, I think she was a princess? Sorta? She has a Dino looking pokemon too and had big, purple hair. I also likes the red haired girl, she was funny.
I do have other fave pokemons tho, Snivy was the first pokemon I became obsessed with, when I saw their design I was in LOVE. I remember googling up images of them to trace or try to redraw, and I drew it so many times so that when I went to school I could draw it by memory. One of the boys, who was sorta ostracised cuz of his disability, saw me drawing in the corner of the classroom during recess. I tried to keep this interest hidden cuz my mom didn't allow it and would get mad in me indulging on it, so I panicked when he asked what I was drawing and I tried to hide it, but he was really cool about it and was also really kind, with how aggressive he could be, I never connected with someone more than I did then. He told me fun facts and started to explain things I never once understood but listened to it anyone cuz I loved the pokemon.
Another one was from this other boy, I started to be more open about my interest of pokemon but still hid it from my mom, idk how we started talking but eventually said boy gave me one of his pokemon cards. It was jiggly Puff. He said that since girls usually liked cute, pink stuff, that I would like this one (and he was absolutely right cuz altho I was treated as a tomboy during that time, I love pink, cute stuff and the girliest of girls stuff, hell, I still tend to go for pokemon by apperance XD).
I cherished it so much until my mom found it, she told me to give it back to the boy and I begrudgingly did so but he insisted I kept it cuz "if I liked it, I should keep it, just hide it from your mom"
She found it again but this time I tried to convince her to keep it bu saying one of its ability is to sing you to sleep, after that, whenever we stayed up late, she'd tell us she'd pull out the "pink ball" to make us go to bed XD
During our haste to move countries, a lot of my stuff got thrown into a shed and I havent found that card since :( I'm a little sad I didn't take it with me now in hindsight, but yeah, I hope I'll find it again one day but there is little chances of that happening considering the mess I was greeted to when I went back to collect some stuff after years
My friend did find the exact card I had tho, it was this one
As for OCs...well, I only have my persona who I already made a post about here and...that's about it so far XD
Also! Please do not be shy go info dump bout pokemon! I'd love to have more people to talk about pokemon! I wanna do more stuff, find people to roleplay with ocs, etc. Etc. Pokenon has been eating my brain away and i only got a handful (barely that) of people I can turn to vkskskak
#salty rants#salty answers#pokemon#PLS DONT STOP WITH THE ASK BOX#i like#love it being spammed#ask box
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im getting really off-track here and am sorry to disturb from the main storyline but im very curious what fate ralsei holds in your universe because i think? this is one of the most unique endings i saw him getting? not that ive seen much besides all of the fountains closing or rals being a villain/someone from ut partially i just wanna know how he's doing. he seemed so disappointed when leaving
oh! i can actually show it. i WANT to clean up and make the drawn comic panels i did on the dark world stream publicly available but i just never find the time for it KLFLSf it'd be a bit of an effort because i didn't know to use the webtoon feature so everything is by a LARGE folder instead of separate canvases... wild i used to work that way. hell on earth.
ok so. I WILL transcribe this comic when i do the above ^ so apologies to those who need it for now. under the cut is Ralsei's ending, minus most of the context. i want to emphasizes, THIS IS A TEMPORARY POSTING LMAO. it will be accessible and fully contextualized later
Uh. Spoilers for Darkworld Arc (the Sam's Biggest Mistake in AFR History Arc). Does it count as a spoiler if i'm a lazy ass who hasn't gotten around to cleaning this story up?
again transcript will be added in the actual release. alongside the unfinished "music" video (the audio was never composed as the vid wasn't finshed.) it has SOME merit tho.
After the Big Battle with Gaster the knight returns (is anyone surprised? no) and posseses Lancer to help give an epilogue to the kids.
(skipping ahead a little because i DO want this scene to mostly be unspoiled, even after all this time)
...apparently this is where either my tablet died again or i was burnt out after drawing for like, idk, 12 hours on stream SKFJSLDF. this is the last panel.
mwuah. a master piece.
ANYWAY. Ralsie (at this point he's been reunited with the kids at the end of the battle. i DO have art for that but i'm just going to show the aftermath)
anyway with Tazetta being crowned princess and given a fresh new life, (again, details vauge cause it's a cute scene that works best with full context) she and ralsei are set up to be new siblings -a brother and a sister!
Kris and Susie got the chance to be proper heroes to defeat Gaster (saving Ralsie in the process) so everyone's on good terms -Susie feels redeemed for attacking Feylow and Knight-Kris (Knis???), Kris got a big Hero Moment and feels validated in their ability to choose their destiny, Ralsei gets to feel the prophecy wasn't a total lie, and he's been given a full chance to live his own life now without the Knight being a turd about it
anyway with the Knight
(AGAIN trying my best not to spoil the scene (fine with talking story beats but not in detail) so deal with being out of context as possible) the knight literally ends the fight by putting gaster in a time out and deciding to become a better person for the darkner's benefit.
yeah. jeeze. really wild how chapter 2 completely recontextualized things huh.
Also, since it's been a year :grimace emoji: i can saftely say the knight is WAY out of character and way to nice and "forgivable" in this dark world. back then I was thinking: "hm, maybe the Knight can be more redeemed and once in Darkworld, they could have a change of heart :)"
yeah thats. that's WAY off the table for Angel's Lullaby as it is now. the "will they or won't they redeem themself" is still on the table but its a WAY bigger fight to accomplish (or fail) than what was depicted here, sharing Kris' SOUL or not.
I think i was just toying with the idea of the Knight's redemption to foreshadow Asriel being flowey and not believing their SOUL was real. I felt this would help justify/foreshadow why Asriel was wrong ahead of time. or something. now i just think it hurts the story by having the knight involved, it undermines that story's intentional confusion if Asriel was right or not a ton!
yeah a big reason why the DW arc was Bad was because 1) outdated for both Angel's AND deltarune LMAO 2) bad in context of Asriel's arc 3) Feylow is kinda a big mess and overly ambitious of a writing metaphor for my skill level at the time 4) litearllyyyy hate the narrative i built for frisk and ralsei and i couldn't really salvage that x-x
ANYWAY sorry for the mean tangent. hopefully this gave you some insight to Ralsei's story arc even if I didn't show the full extent of it
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Thursday, November 30 -- SWYNRP Character Wishlist: A list of 10+ characters you’d like to see in the RP (for you to play or someone else!)
Soooooo, to be honest, I still feel VERY strongly about the majority of my suggestions last year and I couldn't bear to not include them. But I didn't want to cheat by literally copy/pasting last year's task so you will find them at the end. Let's goooo!
Luz Noceda
So I haven't actually watched much of the Owl House (Like... 2 episodes maybe) and therefore I am not the person to bring this character, but I just thought Luz was so adorable and so relatable I mean she is a fangirl just like us!!! And she would fit in perfectly at Pride U her story is so easy to adapt to Swynlake. We have so many awesome TOH people and I just think we should have our protagonist!!
FC idea: I think it's been said before but cutest girly ever Madison Reyes
2. Koda and Kenai
I went through this phase (probably inspired by TLOU tbh) where I really loved the idea of like Koda and Kenai from Brother Bear as a duo that wound up together because they were both hitchhiking across the US (Koda looking for his mom, Kenai looking for someone to break his curse) and it turns out Kenai killed Koda's mom!!!! That would be crazy right? Maybe somehow they end up in Swynlake and run out of money and otherwise get stuck here, and eventually the truth comes out about Koda's mom.... listen I just love Brother Bear and I love found family and I love a sibling-type relationship where one of them is a little shithead because they're hiding how they're actually really hurt and the other is a grump it's always just so fun. Someone take this idea away from me please.
I don't have FC suggestions off the top of my head but I highly recommend talking to Mak, the FC wizard, if that is a concern!!!
3. Izzy Hawthorne
I just think the Swynlake Rangers have a lot of potential (especially if it's like in Lightyear where the group is kind of a joke lmao and maybe even one or two of them are actually just there for court mandated community service). I love an idealist and a disney protag type girly with big dreams and I just think she'd be so much fun!!
FC idea: Jasmine Savoy Brown
4. Mama Odie
I think Mama Odie could be a lot of fun. She's a character with a sense of humor in the movie, she enjoys being kind of cryptic and even though she helps people she always makes them work for it. And I just think it'd be interesting to have her around and kind of challenge Tiana's ideas about New Orleans and what it was like being a Mundus vs. a Magick living there. And maybe could incorporate some stuff about her dad and the RAS? Idk just a thought!!
5. Collette
Another selfish Tiana connection request lol but PLZ. Let's do French cooking vs Cajun cooking! Let's do fine dining versus mid level dining! Let's do THE BEAR AU!!!! YES CHEF THANK YOU CHEF!!!!
FC Idea: Greta Lee I mean COME ON!!!! Have you ever seen a more Collette FC in your life.
6. Joe Gardner
I am simply a sucker for a story about ~what it means to live a good life~. I like the idea that Joe gets to come back and he's so determined to be a famous musician and then he realizes what makes a good life is the friends he made along the way etc. I also just want more Soul characters lmao. I love u Joe <3
FC idea: Michael B Jordan yes sir plz come teach me about music I'm listening
7. Bonnie and Forky
Sorry I just think this is the craziest and funniest idea I ever had. Like we all know what it's like to be under pressure as a creative but what if you were under so much pressure that your demon friend's life depended your ability to produce??? I just think it could be a really fun satire on like hustle culture especially in the creative world and I also think Forky is a hilarious character and I need someone to bring this.
Bonnie: I think Haley Lu Richardson has the what-the-fuck-have-I-done energy lmaooo
Forky: Pete Davidson because it would be funny
8. YUBABA PLZ
I am once again asking for an evil sorcerer... And c'mon wouldn't it be fun to join the 50+ Ladies Who Slay club... Seriously I have plot ideas for you I'm not even kidding plus we could even get a Zeniba and do the whole rivalry thing it would be great just trust me
Again no FCs off the top of my head but happy to help you hunt
9. PJ from a Goofy Movie
I love a sweet gentle boy and so do you. Ngl the majority of this idea is simply my love of the character Cheese in Reservation Dogs the sweetest person ever plz watch the show if you haven't... but yeah please someone get PJ and use Lane Factor as the FC
10. Cruella De Vil
Come onnnn, join the hunters, you know you want to!!! Cruella is a truly heinous villain but she also is a villain who slays. She would be so fun like just imagine her rubbing shoulders with Gen or making deals with Smee! She brings her own fabulous flair to the shady world of poaching and I would like to see it.
FC idea: Taraji P Henson
IDEAS FROM LAST YEAR THAT I STILL STAND BY
The Potato Heads as a couple that adopts triplets and then discovers they are actually powerful Magicks!
Mr. Potato Head as David Harbour
Mrs. Potato Head as Jennifer Coolidge
Massimo from Luca as Matty Matheson, a hunter who just does it because it's the only way he knows how to support his family
Dr Facilier as Jacob Anderson but he's a misunderstood guy who just got driven away bc people didn't trust his magic
Missy Fritter as Lea DeLaria
Or Melanie Field for a younger casting!
Darren Barnet as Jackson Storm
Jacob Elordi as Hans sorry Laur
And now for some FCs I would like to see.......
D'Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai
Teyonah Paris
Will Sharpe
Hari Nef
Rachel Sennott
Melanie Lynskey
Megan Suri
Ncuti Gatwa
alright that's all i got, please get these characters!!!
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im a little late but i want to do some of these anyway so im going to do some past ones here if you don't mind :) (days 1-5)
1 April:
The typical introduction question! Tell us something about yourself. If you can't think of anything, try these: What do you enjoy to do in your free time? What music or series/show do you like? Are you happy with your current living situation/the people you live with? What's one of your favourite foods?
my name is equinox! i like to play pokemon, write stories and draw :D
i LOVE alice in borderland at the moment, i also like those crappy dating shows like too hot to handle lmao
éclairs are one of the best things ive ever eaten and i think i could eat rice all day i love it so much
i do tend to exaggerate things a lot lol, maybe it's something i picked up from people around me or maybe ive just always enjoyed it i don't really know, i'll try and mark it when i do with '[exaggeration]' :)
2 April:
When were you diagnosed and when did you know that you're autistic? If you're self-diagnosed, when did you first suspect that you're autistic and when were you sure?
currently i am in the process of being diagnosed, with an assessment having been done in school (age 16) where i scored very highly, idk what that is but the staff there said it was almost as good as a diagnosis. we started all the referrals and everything when i was about 14. i have a distinct memory of talking with my mum once when i was like 11 and she said "oh yeah we've always thought you were autistic" but she doesn't seem to remember this lol
3 April:
How good or bad is your memory for things people say? For example verbal instructions. If you're deaf: Can you lip read? Do you think your autism influences your ability to lip read?
ajshakdhsk pretty bad- i have really bad auditory memory, i usually need to see something written down to remember it unless i focus really hard and repeat it in my head. this is one reason i use subtitles when watching things lol
4 April:
Were/are you in special education? Regular school? Home schooled? A private school? Did it change over time? Did/do you like it?
i was homeschooled for most of primary school (roughly ages 2-11), mostly because of my poor physical health (i have arthritis and uveitis with glaucoma, arthritis is in remission now though yay :D ). but i was in regular public school for the entirety of high school, which was quite simply awful. i really wish i could have been in some sort of special ed school or even part of the special ed group there but people didn't notice because of my grades. i had shutdowns every day and couldn't focus half the time in lessons bc of people talking, i couldn't talk most of the time, and that made the existing bullying much worse. but i mean, i survived!
5 April:
Did/do you have accommodations at school/IEP? If not, do you think it would help/have helped you?
short answer: im not sure, but not really
i was allowed earplugs but honestly, i think anyone couldve put some in in teachers wouldn't care, i was also able to use a whiteboard to communicate, but again, really anyone could if they needed or wanted to (and half the teachers weren't aware so they'd move on without seeing what i wrote). so those made my time easier but im not sure if they count as accommodations or not, i was ultimately treated the same as every other student and any leeway i did have was because of my good grades, not because i was struggling (which is like really messed up??)
i don't think im aware enough of the support my school could have offered to say whether or not it would've helped but i definitely needed something. actually, i do think it would've helped; they had a support staff (im not sure what their title is sorry) and i feel that definitely would have helped some of my problems there
#heh rambling sorry#i like to talk about myself a lot lol#equinox rambles#30daysofautismacceptance#2023#actually autistic#i genuinely dont understand tags#im scared to post this lol i never talk about this sort of thing
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I love your writing so much bestie it's just steals my heart each time, so I drop by to request:
could you write one about Tom Riddle like the reader is a pureblood Slytherin and they like each other but they can't stay together because her family doesn't approve ™️ of him? Her family were forcing her to marry someone(one of Tom's followers lmao) but he protests and they realize the scale of Tom's influence and he manages to win the family over?
(I'm really sorry if this is too specific, feel free to ignore this if you aren't comfortable)
Tom Riddle- Small, relevant obstacles.
Warnings: None
A/N: First of all, thank you! I'm so happy you like my writing, it warms my heart <3 Secondly, I really loved writing this, and literally wrote it in one sitting which is rare for me.
The first time they met him, you could feel it all going downhill from the first moment.
You had invited Tom to dine with your family, as it was customary for parents to meet the man their daughter was courting, and he had agreed with little hesitance. You had informed him of all he needed to know, and did not worry a lot since you knew Tom had impeccable manners and charming people was as easy as breathing in air for him. You had seen him win over countless pureblood families in different balls and gatherings with his charms, and everyone that had met him, would always leave impressed.
Some would say you had overestimated Tom's abilities, but you knew you had just underestimated your parents' fussiness and paranoia. As their one and only child, they treated you like a fragile gem that could be stolen anytime, and while their concern was heart-warming, their overprotectiveness was irritating. They demanded and accepted only the best for their daughter, and they were not afraid to outright say it.
As you sat with Tom around the dining table, yo could feel your parents' gaze scrutinising every inch of Tom. His appearance, as always, was flawless, with not even a single strand of hair out of place. His suit was fitted against his form and made him appear even more intimidating that he already was.
As dinner got served, small talk was initiated but it was not long before the probing started. "So, Tom, tell us, where do you plan to work?"
As if he expected the question, he put his fork down and jutted out his chin. "Well, I will be working for the ministry and from there I am planning on working my way to the top until I become the Minister of Magic." He replied easily.
Your father rose a brow at his confidence. "You believe you can just become the Minister?"
Tom hid his smile. "That is the plan, yes."
Your mother cleared her throat. "That is quite...ambitious." She threw a look at your father.
You knew what they were thinking, so without any hesitance you spoke up. "Well, he is the Head Boy and the top of his classes. If anyone can be the next Minister, it is him. Even Headmaster Dippet said so."
Your mother looked at you for a moment, before addressing the wizard next to you once again. "Tell us a bit about your family. Where do they work?"
You inhaled sharply at her question, looking at Tom with a worried glance, hoping he would not get angry and storm out of the place. You had informed your parents about the death of Tom's parents and how it was a touchy subject, but it seemed your mother had no regards for neither his feelings or his privacy.
Your hand dropped under the table to find Tom's, and your fingers laced through his, providing some sense of comfort to him.
To his credit, he did not seem fazed by the question, and even if he was, he hid it well. "My parents are dead, ma'am. I am afraid I do not know much about them." He replied and his fingers squeezed your hand.
"Hm." She hummed thoughtfully, picking up her glass of wine and bringing it to her rouge lips. You glared at her darkly, wishing you could scream at her.
Your father took the opportunity to test him. "Tom, would you like some wine?"
He shook his head, denying the offer politely. "I do not drink." He lied easily.
"You know, I have never seen or heard of your family name. Are you not pureblooded?"
Shit.
"Father—" You began but he held up a hand, gesturing for you to quiet down. You shut your mouth helplessly.
Tom's hold on your hand became painfully tight, and you resisted the urge to grimace.
"No. I am a halfblood." He said this as if the mere reminder of the word made him nauseous, and it probably did.
Your father leaned back in his chair, as if he already knew what he needed to know. "I see." He simply said, but you knew instantly he had decided that Tom was not worth it. They did not say it, but it was written all over their face.
It was only after the torturous dinner was over and Tom left the mansion, that your parents spoke their opinion.
"What were you thinking by courting a halfblood? Especially one with no inheritance or money! Have you lost your mind? He has no place in our society, no fortune to support you with." Your mother scolded disapprovingly. "I thought you knew better than to fall for a pretty face." She snapped and your father put a hand on her back to calm her.
"Your mother is right, dear. You would be better off with Orion Lestrange. Your mother and I had been thinking, and we think he is a perfect match for you. The other day his parents told us how he had taken a liking to you. It would be a powerful union of two influential families." He revealed, and even though his tone was far softer, his words were worse.
Your hands tightened into fists, and you could barely hold in your anger. "You...how can you say that?! I do not even like Lestrange, he is horrible!" Your voice rose with each exclamation. "Did you even consider how I would feel about this arrangement? Or you only cared about your reputation and connections? I will never marry Lestrange! And I will never forgive you if you force me into it."
They both looked astonished at your outburst and blatant refusal. You had always been obedient and had always been on your best behaviour. However, they had crossed a line by completely disregarding your personal feelings and trying to arrange a marriage between you and a person you despised.
"I will not hear any of this. Do not argue with us."
You huffed. "Do you even know who Tom is? He is the heir—"
Your father shook his head in frustration. "We do not care who he is. He has no title and no reputation. All we care about is that he is not suitable for you. This discussion is over." He said sharply, and you had never seen him act so cold.
Without looking back, you ran into your room, slammed the door shut and let the tears run down your face.
It was at the ball next day when you saw him again, looking frighteningly beautiful in his black suit. His hair was pushed back, highlighting his prominent features and the sharp jawline. The smile that blossomed on your face was instant. You held your gown so you could move easier, and started making your way towards him.
"Tom!"
His head turned towards you and the dark expression on his face softened upon seeing you. When you halted in front of him, his lips curled into his signature smirk. "Hello."
Your smile wavered as you remembered last evening. "I- I'm really sorry about last night. I did not know they would be so—"
"Don't." He cut you off sharply. "It is not your fault." He said, and you could sense something was off. Maybe he did not want to admit it, but perhaps your parents' poor treatment did affect him.
"I tried to talk some sense into them but they kept talking about this nonsense on how I would have to marry Orion Lestrange just because he h—"
For the second time tonight, he cut you off. His eyes darkened, and you swore they flashed red for the briefest of moments. "What the fuck did you just say? You are not marrying anyone. Not as long as you are mine."
Your heartbeat was so fast you were afraid it was going to shatter your ribcage. Perhaps it was the outright admission of you being his, or maybe it was from the fear of not knowing what he would do to Orion Lestrange, but either way, you knew there was no way you were going to end up with anyone but him.
He clenched his jaw as he pondered over something before he excused himself. I watched him walk away without any protests, and saw him approach Orion Lestrange with a murderous look. He tilted his head to the right, signalling to Orion to come to him and when he did, Tom started speaking. I could not make out what he was saying, but from Orion's weakening posture and the tremble in his hands, it was easy to guess that Tom was making very dark promises. Lestrange’s eyes found yours across the bustling ballroom, and he quickly averted them elsewhere, as if a mere glance at me would get him killed.
Which probably would.
He nodded hastily when Tom was done, and he quickly hurried away to find his parents.
"Oh there you are, dear!" Your mother's voice caused you to break your stare from him, and you turned around to see your parents and...Slughorn. "Professor Slughorn was just telling us about how gifted you are at potions."
Slughorn beamed at you. "She is one talented witch, I am telling you. She is even almost as good as Tom I would say! Ah, that boy, he is a genius." The man rambled away. Then as if remembering we were there, he looked at us. "Have you ever met him? He is a delight!" He smiled brightly, turning around and trying to spot the wizard amongst the crowd.
Your father grimaced at the mention of the boy, feeling uncomfortable. "Is he not a halfblood?"
The question threw the Professor off and he turned his head so fast you were surprised it didn't snap. "A halfblood? Maybe but that boy is the heir of Slytherin himself! Any trace of muggle blood is irrelevant if you consider his ancestry! Perhaps that is why he is so brilliant..." He began to mull over his newfound theory, but the only thing you could focus on was the shocked expression on both of your parents' faces.
"The heir of Slytherin..?" Your mother asked hesitantly, as if she could not believe what she was hearing. You smiled smugly, enjoying their discomfort.
"I tried to tell you." You shrugged.
Slughorn then spotted Tom and he gasped in surprise "Would you look at that! Tom is speaking with the Minister! That boy...he is going places." He sighed, watching with adoration as his star student charmed the Minister. Slughorn excused himself, muttering something about wanting to introduce himself to the Minister and wondering if he would come to one his dinner parties.
Your mother sighed, and you could detect both of your parents' guilt, although it did nothing to soothe the hurt that they had caused. "We were speaking with Orion's parents earlier when the boy came looking panicked and announced he would not dare marry you because you were already with Tom. I suppose he has quite the influence over people."
You looked at your parents, smirking in triumph. "I tried to tell you he was not just a nobody. He has a name, a reputation and a future. If only you would listen to me instead of trying to decide my life for me, this would not have happened."
You knew these small yet significant things changed their perception, and you had a feeling they would grow to like Tom after some time. The mere thought made you happy and you knew this was another obstacle that you and Tom overcome together easily.
With a grin, you turned around only to find Tom staring at you and he smiled.
And his smile was dark but very telling.
#tom riddle one shot#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle fic#tom riddle#tom riddle fanfiction#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle angst#tom riddle fluff#harry potter#slytherin
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everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader
I am not your concern
masterlist | part 2
summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.
a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10
wc: 2.3k
warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao
chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound!
Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.
“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”
“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”
“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”
“Dear, watch where you’re going!”
Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.
“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”
Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”
“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”
“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”
“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.
“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ”
Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”
“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”
“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”
“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”
“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”
“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.
“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.
As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”
She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”
“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”
“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”
“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.
“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.
“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”
“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”
“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.
Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.
Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.
-
After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.
Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.
“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”
She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”
“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”
Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”
He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”
“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”
His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”
She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”
She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”
“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”
Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”
She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”
“What happened to your father?” he questioned.
Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.
Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”
She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.
“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”
“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”
Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”
“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”
Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”
Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.
He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.
And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.
#zuko x reader#zuko x you#zuko fic#zuko#avatar the last airbender#avatar#atla#a:tla#avatar fic#atla fic#self insert#reader insert#avatar x reader#sadie writes
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cold sun ⤖ han jisung
❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst
❖ word count : 2,6k.
❖ warning : slight swearing
❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.
❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡
It’s the first day of the week.
“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”
And Han Jisung is really annoying.
Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.
There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.
It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.
Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.
“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.
Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”
“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.
“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”
“Alright, stupid.”
The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”
And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”
“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”
Han Jisung really is annoying.
He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.
Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.
It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”
“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.
You tilt your head, “...for real?”
“For real.”
After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”
His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.
Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)
A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”
The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.
And Jisung decides this is it.
It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.
It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.
“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”
Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.
He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.
Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.
Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.
Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.
Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.
“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”
You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.
His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”
A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”
A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”
Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?
“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.
His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.
It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.
I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.
Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?
I’ll fucking kick you.
Wait, there’s homework?!
...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?
“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.
Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.
He made auntie cry?!
I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.
I’m seriously going to punch him.
She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.
Han Jisung you fucking idiot.
I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.
Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.
I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.
However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.
It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.
Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.
It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.
Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.
He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.
“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”
His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.
As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.
“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”
A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”
Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.
Your voice.
His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.
I need to hear it again.
And you might not stay by his side this time.
“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.
Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.
His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”
“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.
You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.
It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.
“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”
A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”
You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.
You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.
You miss how annoyingly loud he is.
“Y-Y...Y/N…!”
Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.
“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”
“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”
Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”
“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.
Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.
“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”
He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”
You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”
���Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”
Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.
#skzwritersclub#inkidz#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#han jisung#han jisung imagines#han jisung scenarios#jisung imagines#jisung scenarios#stray kids fluff#skz x reader#han jisung x reader#bang chan#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#see queue later
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