#edit: first late song post. two weeks in exactly. not too bad! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kerikaaria · 3 years

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Hanging by a Thread

(Yoongi x Taehyung) Oneshot, Soulmate!au

Genre: (NC-17) ANGST. BUCKETS OF ANGST. With some fluffy fluff.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (just some friends hanging out and going to a bar and club, nothing crazy), mentions of past abuse (undetailed and brief), homophobic side character, brief mention of minor character’s death (happened in the past)

WC: 16.3k

Description: Yoongi thinks he is unlovable, and Taehyung doesn’t believe in soulmates. When they meet, Yoongi feels a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, this person can love him the way he craves. Except, Taehyung only gives Yoongi a single glance before walking away, taking the last piece of his heart with him.

A/N - This fic is submitted for the “Dishonest Love” project for Valentine’s Day 2021 with @thebtswritersclub ! It was something that the amazing @eternalseokjin had pitched to me months ago when I said I wanted to write something angsty but didn’t know what, and here it is, FINALLY done! It’s also my first official MxM fic, in honor of the great MxM writer who pitched me the idea. Thank you, Dean! <3

Also, I had wanted to get a beta reader for this but.... I literally just finished and am posting it LITERALLY last minute after quickly reading and editing through myself. So if there’s stuff I missed, sorry! I hope it still reads well!

Yoongi walked into the now familiar building, easily directing himself to the third floor as usual. He had been routinely coming here for a few weeks now, and he found himself looking forward to his meetings with Jimin. The building itself was a bit smaller than he had originally expected for an entertainment company, and he remembered needing to stop and take a look around the first time he walked through the front doors. The lobby was rather welcoming, not so monochrome and sleek as many other businesses liked to keep their interiors.

The comfy-looking couches in the seating area were complementary tones of brown and blue, the plants placed nearby looking much more real than the plastic ones found at Yoongi’s workplace. The bit of actual life brought into the lobby just added to the much more welcoming feel here, something Yoongi had really come to appreciate these past weeks. Wall-length windows brought plenty of natural light into the open room, and along with the colorful but tasteful art hanging on the walls, the area emitted a warmth that reached into Yoongi’s bones. Much different from the cold atmosphere he was used to.

He didn’t even need to stop at the reception desk on his way in anymore since the staff easily recognized him. After the first week, he didn’t need to schedule appointments anymore either. He and Jimin would text and arrange their own times when they were available to meet.

Walking into the studio they were using, that now had temporary touches of Yoongi as well since he spent a fair amount of time working there, was more than natural by this point. It even felt more comfortable than his own studio lately.

Jimin smiled lazily at Yoongi. “Hey, Yoongi!”

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi responded as he pulled out the couple pieces of equipment he liked to use and always brought with him since they weren’t available here. “I have a demo to share with you today.”

Jimin’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really? Let me hear it!”

Yoongi chuckled. “Let me get set up first, huh?”

The first meeting Yoongi had with Jimin weeks ago went better than he had expected. He seemed to be just about as nice and personable as he acted in public, which was something Yoongi certainly couldn’t say for many of the other artists he worked with. By the end of it, he felt like he had a pretty good understanding of the type of song that Jimin was hoping to sing.

To be honest, Yoongi was surprised his company even agreed to let him meet with Jimin at all. This certainly wasn’t the first time someone from another label had requested a song produced by SUGA, but it was the first that his company approved. Usually they’d instantly refuse the request, wanting to keep Yoongi’s work exclusively for them.

Maybe they felt like Jimin wasn’t enough of a threat to compete with their own artists. But even just from the research Yoongi had done prior to meeting him, listening to his music and watching a few interviews to get an idea of who he’d be working with, he knew better. Jimin might not have been at the top, but he had been steadily gaining popularity since he first debuted a few years ago. He for sure had the talent, not only in singing but also dancing, and with just the right song and publicity he was sure Jimin would become a force to be reckoned with in the industry.

Working with Jimin on this song had been more than a breath of fresh air for Yoongi as well. The label Jimin belonged to didn’t feel the need to dictate every step they took with the song, letting them have the freedom to come up with a song that was a pleasant middle ground between what Yoongi wanted to write and what Jimin wanted to perform. Which surprisingly enough, was much less of a middle ground and more like almost exactly what both of them wanted.

After getting everything set up and pulling up the track that he finished putting together last night, Yoongi pressed play. It was still rather rough, needed finetuning and a more solid melody to go with it, but Yoongi felt like he managed to write something that both of them would be happy with.

The first few demos he made didn’t quite fit the bill, either Jimin not liking it as much as Yoongi wanted him to, Yoongi himself not being completely happy with the outcome, or a combination of both. But this one, he felt was different. He had a feeling this song was going to be it.

A smile quickly spread on Jimin’s face as he listened, giving away that he was indeed pleased with the song. He refrained from commenting until after the last beat had finished, but as soon as it did words flooded from him.

“Wow, that sounds amazing! It’s almost like you looked into my mind and managed to turn exactly what I was hoping for into a reality. I absolutely love it!”

Yoongi tried not to feel embarrassed from the praise as he smiled to himself. “Well, I mean my notebook filled with notes on what you wanted your song to be is pretty much that.” He shrugged. “I just wrote something based on those notes, and based on what I wanted to do.”

“I might be prejudiced,” Jimin said, “but I really think this might even end up being better than all your other songs,” Jimin said, tone light but seeming to only be partially joking. “It just sounds more… I don’t know. More real? Like not as artificial or manufactured.”

When Yoongi stared unmoving at Jimin for a moment, the singer backtracked a bit. “That’s not to say that your songs are bad, or anything! I really love them! It’s why I asked if we could reach out to your company, see if you could write me a song. But, I don’t know. It just sounds different.”

“I agree,” Yoongi admitted, nodding. “Sometimes I don’t even recognize my own work by the time it ends up being released, to be honest.”

Jimin furrowed his brows at him. “What do you mean?”

The elder casually shrugged. “It’s nothing. But if this gets through, I think I’ll be really happy with it.”

Jimin smiled brightly, eyes almost closed from the force of it. “Everyone will love it. I just know it.”

Yoongi was a pretty reserved person, finding very few people who he considered friends. But despite not being nearly as social or chatty as Jimin was, he found himself hoping that even after their song was done and released that they would keep in touch.

During the second week of working together, he had caught himself staring at the string on his finger that was only visible to himself many times. It was almost as if he hoped that it would suddenly connect to the other man in the room. Of course, he couldn’t be that lucky. It didn’t bother him, though. He quickly stopped the habit and was perfectly happy with the friendship that was possibly forming between the two of them.

However, it wasn’t much longer that he had to wait for the string that usually faded out into nothing to finally connect to its other end. In fact, it was later the same day that Yoongi had played the first draft of what they finalized as the new song for Jimin.

Yoongi was on his way back to his apartment when he felt it. A tiny tug on his hand that he barely noticed at first. But just a moment later, there it was again. When he looked down, he could see that it was the thread attached to his finger, the string longer than usual and pulled taut.

His heart sped up at the idea of his soulmate being nearby. After 26 years, he thought he’d never meet them. That he was just doomed to be alone and never feel loved. But his soulmate would love him, wouldn’t they? They had to.

Yoongi followed the string, trying to focus on that single task and not think too hard about who could be on the other end. The red thread was leading him toward a higher end clothing store, growing even longer the closer he got until he was standing just outside of the entrance to the shop.

He took in a deep breath, preparing himself before pulling the glass door open.

Once he was inside, the thread no longer tapered off into nothingness, but instead finished its path. Yoongi carefully followed it until he found the person it was connected to. He slowly took in the figure, feeling all of his breath leave him at once.

On the other end of the string was the most handsome man Yoongi had ever laid his eyes upon, perusing a rack of colorful shirts. Curly dark locks just long enough to fall into his eyes, facial features striking enough for him to be a model, and a gorgeous tan to his skin.

Yoongi was speechless, suddenly unsure of how to approach this man who was made to be his soulmate. He couldn’t help the brief feeling that he looked vaguely familiar, but shrugged it off. He would have certainly known if they met before. Worried that he would come across as a creep just staring at the stranger, he turned around to find something in the store to pretend to contemplate buying—although everything here was more expensive than what he’d usually buy.

As he started walking in the other direction he felt the tug on his hand once more, the string apparently wanting him to keep approaching the man on the other end. Yoongi looked over his shoulder to see if the other had noticed, and he froze when he met the beautiful man’s gaze.

The stranger’s eyes flickered down, clearly looking at the red thread tying them together. He then glanced up once more, again meeting Yoongi’s line of sight, before starting to walk in his direction.

Yoongi opened his mouth as the handsome man approached, ready to introduce himself to his soulmate. But before he could even get a syllable out, the man had walked right past him, opening the door and leaving the store. He didn’t look back even once.

Yoongi could feel the string pulling and tugging, not wanting the two of them to be separate after it had finally connected. The line remained taut, not dimming or fading out for a few moments. But then Yoongi could have sworn he felt it snap as it slackened, the string falling and its connection fading out into nothingness and resuming its usual length on Yoongi’s finger, a little duller than it had been before.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the store, unable to move. He had waited for 26 years to meet his soulmate, the one person in this world that he had hoped would be able to love him, only for him to walk away without a word.

“Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything, would you please leave?” a store associate said, returning Yoongi’s mind to the present.

He bowed in apology before walking out the door, staring wistfully in the direction that his soulmate had left.

Apparently not even fate had the power to make someone love him.

By the time Yoongi downed his third beer, Namjoon was looking worried. But he wasn’t going to ask. That was one of the things Yoongi loved about his best friend. He could read him like an open book, but also knew that if there was something to talk about he would come to it in his own time. Namjoon didn’t push or pressure him to talk before he was ready, just waited for him to be.

When Yoongi had knocked on Namjoon’s door with an abundance of beer and chicken wings, the latter already knew that something was up and his friend needed company. His understanding wife called her own friends to arrange a night out and let the men have the house to themselves. She was also Yoongi’s friend, but she knew this was something that only Joon could help with.

It wasn’t until the fifth beer that Yoongi had enough liquid courage in him to tell Namjoon what was on his mind. Gripping the half-empty bottle, he muttered out the words he never thought would end up being as solemn as they were.

“I met my soulmate.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he took a good look at the elder. “Seriously?” Answered with a single nod, he only became more confused. “So what’s wrong?” he carefully asked. “I figured when that happened we’d be drinking to celebrate, but you’re not exactly in a celebratory mood.”

Yoongi took in a deep breath in preparation for the next words he would mutter. “He took one look at me and walked away. Didn’t even say a word.”

The look on Namjoon’s face fell into solemn understanding. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that… That explains it.”

“Am I that disgusting?” Yoongi asked, looking up at the other earnestly. “Am I that ugly? That undesirable? Just one look, and he hated me already.”

“I highly doubt that, Yoongs,” Namjoon said. “First off, you’re not ugly. You’re actually very good looking, and not at all disgusting. But to hate someone just by looking at them without knowing anything about them? Impossible. Are you sure he saw you?”

“He looked me right in the eyes, Joon,” Yoongi said exasperatedly, harshly setting his bottle down on the table. “Looked me in the eyes, looked back at our string, then walked right past me and out the door.”

Namjoon chewed on his bottom lip in thought. He was going to try to rationalize, just like his smart brain always did. Always trying to think logically before emotionally. “Maybe he had never been interested in men before,” he suggested. “It may have been a shock to him to see that his soulmate was a man.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t look shocked or confused or anything. He had the most blank expression on his face. Like he just didn’t care.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, looking away. But Yoongi had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. That maybe he was one of those people who didn’t care about soulmates. It wasn’t very common, but not unheard of. Maybe that was him, maybe he was already in a relationship. But did he have to just ignore Yoongi, though?

“But did he have to just ignore me, though?” Yoongi voiced his last thought. “He could have said something, at least.”

Shrugging, Namjoon took a swig from his second bottle. “It would have been nice of him to, definitely. I’m sorry man, I really don’t know what to say other than whether it’s your soulmate or not, you’ll find someone for you.”

“Yeah, the odds aren’t looking too good for that,” Yoongi scoffed before chugging almost the rest of his bottle.

“I’ve already said it so many times, but I’ll say it again,” Namjoon said, honest and strong gaze fixated on his friend. “You’re worth love, Yoongi. Regardless of how others have treated you in the past. They don’t matter. And if this soulmate of yours really doesn’t want to even give you a chance, then he doesn’t either. You’re worthy of being loved, deserve to be loved. The right person will come around eventually.”

Yoongi wanted to argue, but he knew he wouldn’t win. When it came to this topic, Namjoon would always have the last word, refusing to let Yoongi believe anything else. Every time he had been hurt, whether it was by yet another person who found his sexuality disgusting or someone who told him all the right words only to break his heart in the end, Namjoon was always there. He always gave him the ‘you’re not worthless’ speech. While Yoongi was heavily inclined to not believe it, it had always been enough to at least keep him going.

The two fell back into silence—not uncomfortable, but still heavy with the weight of Yoongi’s heart. It didn’t matter if no more words were exchanged until they decided they were done drinking and went to sleep. Yoongi would fall asleep next to his best friend, at least comforted by the fact that even if he never found someone who would love him the way he craved, he had someone who did love him in some way and would never leave him alone.

One of the benefits of Yoongi’s personality that he’d realized years ago was that when he was upset about something, the average person was none the wiser. A storm could be brewing in his mind, but because his expression was blank and his eyes had a hardened look to them during even a normal day, no one would have any idea. Well, except for Namjoon.

It meant that he didn’t have people constantly asking him what was wrong. Which he was extremely thankful for when he saw Jimin again two days later, the singer coming to visit Yoongi at his own studio this time. It was possible he took notice that Yoongi was a tad less talkative than normal, but if he did notice anything at all he just shrugged it off easily.

“Do you not like decorating?” Jimin asked after they finished working on the song for the day.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows raised.

“I noticed that you don’t really have much of a… personal touch to your studio,” Jimin shrugged.

“Not allowed,” Yoongi mumbled in response as he shut down the computer.

“You’re not allowed to decorate? Not at all?”

“Nope. The studio belongs to the company, not me. I just use it.”

“Huh.” Jimin seemed genuinely confused at the concept. “But like, people who have office jobs are allowed to decorate their spaces. They have pictures at their cubicles, or if they have a room to themselves they can arrange it how they want, can’t they?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. It’s not like the studio we’re using at your company is decorated with your stuff.”

“Yeah, but we’re just borrowing it,” Jimin countered. “After we’re done with the song, someone else will use it. Whenever I visit the producers at our company, their studios are always decorated. Each one looks different, unique to them.”

“I don’t really care either way,” Yoongi said. “It’s just a room.”

The younger’s face scrunched up a bit, deep in thought for a moment. “It just feels like you don’t have much freedom here,” he carefully said after a moment.

“Comes with the territory, I guess,” Yoongi said. “I work for my boss, not myself. He decides what is good and what isn’t.”

“But the tracks you showed me earlier, they sounded so much better than the versions that were released. They were amazing.”

Earlier when they were a bit dry on ideas for the song, Jimin had been curious about demos of some of Yoongi’s other music, and so the producer had decided to play a few samples for him. Yoongi absolutely agreed with Jimin, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t up to him what was good or not.

“Our company doesn’t do that,” Jimin mumbled, almost too quiet for Yoongi to hear.

But he did. “Do what?” he asked for clarification.

“I mean, it’s not like they don’t ask for revisions on songs if they need some work still,” the singer said. “But our producers have a lot more freedom than it seems like you do here. They’re happy with the versions of their songs that get released. I just wish you could be, too. Your music is absolutely amazing and it deserves to be heard the way you want it to be.”

Unsure of what to say, Yoongi stared at the other, blinking. Eventually, when his mind caught up he said, “Well, nothing I can really do about that at this point.”

Jimin frowned, knowing that he was right. “Well, I’m positive my company is going to love this song we’re releasing,” he attempted to lighten the mood a bit.

“I hope so,” Yoongi said. “I haven’t enjoyed writing a song this much in a long time.”

“Well, I’m honored that it’s a song for me, then,” Jimin said, a smile back on his face. “And I hope that it’s just the start of you enjoying it again.”

Butterflies flying into his chest at Jimin’s kind words, Yoongi found himself glancing at the thread on his finger once again. He already met his soulmate, he knew it wasn’t Jimin. But he couldn’t help but wonder if only.

His expression must have become more readable than usual because it was only a few short moments later when Jimin asked, “Yoongi? Are you alright?”

It took Yoongi a moment to look back up at Jimin. “Have you met your soulmate, Jimin?” he blurted out.

The singer seemed surprised at the sudden question. “My- my soulmate?” His expression changed to the saddest Yoongi had seen him yet. “Well, yeah, I met her. I met her a long time ago. But we’re not together. Why do you ask?”

Yoongi couldn’t help being curious about why that was. But, he realized asking about Jimin’s soulmate was already treading dangerously into overstepping and it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep prodding. “No reason,” he shrugged. “I was just curious. Sorry.”

Jimin’s smile returned. “It’s alright. It’s natural to be curious, I guess. I’m a bit strange for not being with my soulmate, huh?”

“No,” Yoongi immediately responded. “I don’t think you’re strange at all.”

“What about you?” Jimin asked, somewhat hesitantly. “If you feel like sharing.”

Yoongi stared at his string one more time. “I ran into them once in a store,” he said, being careful not to specify gender. “But no, I haven’t properly met them.”

Nodding, Jimin seemed to understand that Yoongi also had left something unsaid but didn’t pry. “Well, whoever they are, they are a very lucky person to be your soulmate.” He was smiling, but the expression on his face was one that Yoongi couldn’t quite read.

The song was an absolute hit. So much so, that Yoongi’s boss seemed incredibly surprised. If he had presented a song like this to his boss, he would have been told to make a ton of changes before it hit the masses. He’d be told it wasn’t good enough, not perfect enough.

However, this song blew up so much faster and stronger than any songs that Jimin released before, and even more than any other song yet produced by SUGA. The love for the track made Yoongi happy, not just because his song that he was really happy with and proud of was getting love, but also because of how much it made his boss question everything he knew.

Barely even a week after the song’s release, Yoongi received a call from the company Jimin worked under. At first, he assumed that maybe it was an effort to try to get more collaborations with him, maybe a short-term contract. But much to his surprise, they were offering for him to work with them permanently.

To say that he was floored would be an understatement.

Switching companies like that was not easy. Especially since Yoongi knew how hard his current company would try to hold onto him, knowing that they’d be losing one of their best and most popular producers. Even if he had somewhere else to go, there were clauses in the contracts that made it difficult for one to just move from company to company. By offering Yoongi the job there, they were also promising to spend the time and money to handle the technicalities in order to ensure his successful transfer.

Shellshocked from the unexpected phone call, Yoongi could only muster a promise that he’d consider the offer before the call ended. It took a few good minutes, but once he was able to gather the remnants of his brain together, he pressed the call button on Jimin’s contact.

“Hey, Yoongi!” the ever-so cheery singer answered. “What’s up?”

“Park Jimin, what did you do?” Yoongi asked, no venom to be found in his voice.

There was silence for a moment while Jimin seemed to think about the question. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

“I mean, why did I just get a call from your company offering to hire me?”

“Oh, that,” Jimin breathed out through a nervous laugh. “Well, I didn’t know they were going to actually call you, for the record. Although, I really am glad that they did. I mean, you really des-”

“Jimin.”

Jimin cleared his throat. “I just asked them if they liked you, and what it would look like if they signed you on as a producer for us. I guess they started thinking about it and decided they wanted to.”

“Why did you do that?”

“You know why. That place doesn’t treat you how they should. You could have so much more freedom here, Yoongi.” After a few moments of silence, Jimin added, “Plus, I really enjoyed working with you. I was kind of hoping that we might be able to write some more songs together in the future.” Another silence. “You’re not mad, are you?” Jimin asked in a small voice.

“No, I’m not mad,” Yoongi replied. “I’m just shocked, is all.”

“Do you know how you’re going to respond?”

Yoongi sighed into the phone. “I’m not sure. I’d have to talk with them and figure out what working there would mean, make sure it’s worth the effort battling my current company to let me leave.”

“Well, let me know when you decide?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t take long for Yoongi to decide. After asking for more information on the offer, there was no way he would refuse the deal. Not only would he have proper rights to his music—still shared of course, but actually a reasonable percentage compared to what he was currently getting—but he’d also get a higher percentage of royalties. Like Jimin had mentioned, he would get his own studio that he was allowed to decorate and even refurbish, within reason of course. All of that, on top of the experience he’d already had with them not forcing him to change his songs entirely, made the choice a no-brainer.

Apparently, they were already prepared for him to say yes to the offer, quickly going in to get his contract with the current company terminated as swiftly and easily as possible. There was of course still pushback, but it could have been much more difficult if Yoongi’s original employer had been more prepared for it.

That still didn’t stop his boss—ex-boss, rather—from repeatedly asking Yoongi to stay, trying to convince him that he’d give him a better deal. Out of curiosity, Yoongi had humored the idea just to see what he’d come up with. But when the man showed him the new contract he had written up, Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh at it. It wasn’t even close to being as good as what Jimin’s company had offered, and he certainly wasn’t going to be hanging around there either way.

The day the transfer was official, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel excited to go to work for the first time in a long time, other than the days when he got to work on Jimin’s song at least. He already had everything prepared to put into his new studio, equipment he already knew they wouldn’t have there that he preferred, and just a few simple things to start making the space his own.

His spent the first hour or so of the day arranging everything the way he wanted, placing equipment where he could work efficiently, and finding places the his small trinkets he wanted to try decorating with. Afterwards, he texted Jimin to see if he was at the office, wanting to show him his studio. Yeah, it wasn’t really much quite yet, but it was his own space. And he knew Jimin was going to be just as excited as he felt.

Jimin’s quick reply let Yoongi know that he was currently in one of the dance practice rooms, and he insisted Yoongi stopped by.

After taking the elevator one floor down, he could hear laughter coming from the room where he knew Jimin to be. Jimin’s recognizable tinkling laughter was accompanied by an airy, deeper one. It was only one short moment later when he felt a pull on his hand. Furrowing his eyebrows, he glanced down to see that once again, the string attached to his ring finger extended farther and was clearly reaching out to the other end.

Sight following the line, Yoongi’s heart raced when he realized it led into the room where Jimin’s laughter could be heard. Without thinking, his footsteps became more rushed as he neared the door, quickly pushing it open and looking for its occupants.

“Yoongi!” Jimin greeted just as Yoongi’s eyes found them. Sure enough, sitting next to him was the dark-haired man that Yoongi had met in the store that day—his soulmate. “Come meet my best friend!”

Yoongi tried to not let the storm going on inside his head to show in his expression as he approached the two.

“This is Kim Taehyung,” Jimin introduced the mystery man. “Tae, this is Yoongi. Better known as SUGA.”

“Ah, Jimin has been talking a lot about you,” the other man, Taehyung said, no hint of embarrassment or apology for their last encounter in his tone. His voice was deep and rich and sent an involuntary shiver down Yoongi’s spine. “It’s nice to meet you.” A hand, the hand which their string attached to, reached out toward Yoongi.

Hesitantly, Yoongi grabbed it, gently shaking it once. “Nice to meet you too, Taehyung.”

Jimin was incredibly persistent, and it was a problem. Because that meant that it was impossible to ignore Jimin's pleads for Yoongi to go out to a bar with not only him, but Taehyung as well. He said something about wanting two of his favorite people to get along, or something along those lines.

So there he was, sitting in a booth next to Taehyung—under Jimin's insistence again—and feeling stupidly nervous about being in such close proximity to his soulmate. While Taehyung hadn't made any active effort to speak with Yoongi outside of the social obligation to generally not be rude, or to please Jimin when he encouraged the two to interact more, he wasn't acting like anything had ever happened between the two of them before.

This was the same man who walked out of the store to get away from Yoongi. Who saw they were connected by this string and still felt the need to completely ignore him. But he genuinely acted like this was the first time they met, and he most certainly seemed to be intentionally ignoring the fact that they were soulmates.

"Everything okay, Yoongi?" Jimin asked when he hadn’t spoken for a while.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm okay," Yoongi said. "Why?"

"You just, have that look," Jimin answered. “Like you’re deep in thought about something.”

Yoongi’s not sure if he imagined seeing Taehyung glance at him from the corner of his eye. “Ah, sorry. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

A slightly worried look sat on Jimin’s face, obviously unconvinced. However, he seemed to think it best to move on, a smile soon lighting up his features. “So, you haven’t told me how your old boss took your transfer to our company.”

With a light laugh, Yoongi’s face loosened up as well. “It was funny. He tried telling me that he’d offer me a better contract if I was unhappy with the one he had given me. But it was still terrible, definitely not as good as what they offered me. He was trying so desperately to keep me.”

“Yeah, they’re no doubt going to lose money without you,” Jimin said. “Their loss. If they wanted to keep you, they should have treated you better. Your songs are amazing. Right, Tae? We’re always listening to songs you’ve written.”

Yoongi glanced between the two, trying not to linger too long on Taehyung’s undeniably gorgeous face. “Really?”

It was Taehyung who nodded. “Yeah, your music is really great. Some of my favorite songs were written by you.” Yoongi tried to hold in his surprise when Taehyung turned to him and gave him what seemed to be a shy smile.

His heart still felt like it skipped a beat, though.

“Thank you,” Yoongi answered, a small smile of his own returning Taehyung’s before taking a sip of his drink.

“Although, I still have to say that your new song is by far your best,” Jimin said smugly.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “You’re biased.”

“Am I wrong though?” Jimin challenged.

Taehyung was quiet for a moment before he ultimately just shrugged.

A short, not so uncomfortable silence sat between the three. Yoongi still couldn’t forget that first encounter he had with Taehyung, and was trying his best to not look at his left hand. However, it was slowly getting more comfortable with him thanks to Jimin. He made a mental note for himself to definitely try to talk to Taehyung later about what happened that day.

“So, how did you two meet?” Yoongi decided to ask to keep conversation going.

“I transferred to a new school when I was… what? Twelve?” Taehyung started. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Jimin was the first friend I made there.”

Jimin nodded. “And we’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s my soulmate.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion, glancing subtly at his string, which most certainly was connecting to the man sitting beside him.

“Not literal soulmate,” Taehyung nonchalantly clarified. “We call each other that because we were basically just destined to be best friends.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin laughed. “I’ve definitely caused a few misunderstandings with that one. I sometimes forget other people still have soulmates.”

Now Yoongi was even more confused. “Still?”

Recognizing what he said, Jimin’s eyes widened before he put a smile on his face, looking somewhat forced. “Oops. I’ll tell you some other time. Don’t want to sour the mood. Anyway, when Taehyung was scouted by our company I was so excited that we’d be able to work close together. It was like a dream come true.”

“You’re signed under the company, too?” Yoongi asked the dark-haired man next to him.

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah. I know I’m not like super famous, but most people recognize me. You don’t?”

Unsure if he should feel embarrassed about the fact that he had no idea what Taehyung was talking about, Yoongi didn’t say anything as he looked between the other two.

“Oh, really?” Jimin finally said, giving Yoongi some relief. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know, sorry. Tae is a model.”

The mentioned man already had a picture pulled up on his phone to show Yoongi. It was obviously from a photoshoot, the image expertly taken to show off all the perfect angles of Taehyung’s face. Now it made sense why he felt like he had recognized him when they first ran into each other. Thinking about it, it wasn’t so surprising. The man really was strikingly handsome.

“Oh, that- that actually makes a lot of sense,” Yoongi said before he could stop himself.

“I know, right?” Jimin cheered from across the table. “It’s like he was made to be a model. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Don’t you think so, Yoongi?”

Yoongi spluttered for a moment, caught off guard by the question being directed toward him. As he felt heat rise to his cheeks, he settled on nodding in agreement. He couldn’t help but think about how that meant he’d probably end up running into Taehyung a lot, then. There was a high chance they’d see each other frequently at the company, and even outside of it if Jimin kept insisting on having them hang out together. Maybe it was a chance to get to know each other, maybe Taehyung could warm up to him and consider giving him a shot.

It was interesting to see a contrast between the two best friends in their drinking behavior. An hour later, Jimin was most certainly well past the point of tipsy, while Taehyung was still sipping on water. Yoongi himself had a few beers, but not anywhere enough to get more than a light buzz.

“Not much of a drinker?” Yoongi tried to make light small talk with Taehyung when Jimin left to go to the bathroom, not for the first time that night.

“Nah,” Taehyung said. “Don’t really like the taste at all. I can tolerate some wine, but that’s about it. Jimin loves it though. Obviously,” he chuckled.

Yoongi just nodded, taking another small sip from his cup.

“Did you say anything to him about this?” Taehyung asked, lifting up his left hand where the red string hang from to connect to Yoongi’s.

“No,” Yoongi replied honestly. “I had mentioned that I ran into my soulmate, but I didn’t know who you were at the time, and I didn’t tell him anything else. Just that we ran into each other once. Did you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “We don’t talk about things like soulmates. Not a great topic for us.” He took in a deep breath. “I want to apologize for that day, though.”

Yoongi’s head snapped to look at him, surprised at the sudden apology.

“I’ve never had much interest in the whole soulmate thing,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t rude. I had had a pretty bad day, not that it excuses my behavior. I just didn’t think. I’m sure you have questions, since I know most people care about this string. I’m not comfortable sharing my life story with you yet or anything like that. But you seem like a nice guy, and Jimin wants us to be friends. I wanted to clear that up so that we can try to be friends. If you wanted.”

“Yes,” Yoongi responded, quickly feeling embarrassed of how fast he did. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’d like to be friends. And thank you for that apology.”

The two shared a smile, but didn’t get to say anything else when Jimin came fumbling back to the table and started animatedly talking about some girl that he was sure had been checking him out.

Maybe Taehyung wouldn’t end up being so bad afterall.

This was not going as well as Yoongi had hoped.

It wasn’t that he and Taehyung weren’t getting along well. In fact, they were getting along perfectly fine. Most of the time when Jimin asked Yoongi to hang out, or when one of them would visit the other at the company, Taehyung was there. The more time Yoongi spent with Taehyung, the more he liked the man.

Half of the time, Yoongi would even forget about the fact this handsome, charming, warm-hearted person was his soulmate. He’d just be hanging out with Taehyung. Yoongi felt as though he had been doomed from their first conversation. That as soon as things were friendly between the two of them, it became inevitable for him to be sucked in deeper and deeper, for him to slowly fall for the man.

Okay, maybe not that slowly. It had only been about a month or so, but Yoongi could already tell he was in too deep with no way out. Hence why things were not going well.

Taehyung made no indication to having any interest in Yoongi other than just being friends. He was hands down a great friend and there was nothing wrong with that. But when Yoongi could feel himself longing for Taehyung more and more each day as he saw the string connecting them slowly become duller, things were obviously not okay.

The thing with soulmates was that they weren’t set in stone. No one quite knew how people ended up tied together by some intangible string that only you and your soulmate could see. There were many theories, mostly spiritual, on the topic but no one had figured it out for sure. However, there was a substantial amount of research put into the topic to decipher as much as humans could about them. One thing that was clear was how the string read emotions. Just because you had become tied to someone didn’t mean you always would be. If there was emotional distance, betrayed trust, or anything else that would drive a couple apart emotionally, the string would reflect that by disappearing. Sometimes slowly, sometimes as fast as a snap of the fingers, depending on each situation.

Every day that Yoongi’s feelings grew stronger for Taehyung, the string faded a little more, becoming more and more transparent. Which meant that while Yoongi had the emotions and felt the connection with him, Taehyung didn’t. Even though Yoongi didn’t know Taehyung’s story of why he didn’t care about soulmates, one thing was made very obvious to him—that Taehyung valued honest, emotional connections more than anything. Yoongi had hoped that as they became closer, maybe Taehyung would start to warm up to him and want to give him a genuine chance, soulmate or not.

Yoongi was, as always, stupidly hopeful.

It was a night where Jimin visited Yoongi at his studio, now much more decorated to reflect his likes and personality when the topic of soulmates was brought up once again.

“You’re staring at your string, aren’t you?” Jimin asked quietly after he had just been gushing his growing crush on his choreographer, which Yoongi had only been paying half of his attention to.

Yoongi looked up from where he had indeed been staring at his left ring finger, apologetically smiling at Jimin. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

The younger remained quiet for a moment before asking, “Have you met them again? Your soulmate.”

Heart clenching, Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, we’ve met properly.”

Another silence sat while Jimin examined Yoongi’s face. He was annoyingly becoming rather good at reading his poker face. “It’s not going well, I take it?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Debatable. It’s going fine, I guess. Just- not where I wish it was going.”

Jimin nodded, taking a moment to stare at his own finger where his string would have been. “It’s been a long time since I had my string,” he said quietly.

It was Yoongi’s turn to examine Jimin’s face, finding a wistful expression as he sighed.

“I met her in high school,” Jimin said, lifting his gaze to Yoongi to check if he seemed okay with the subject change. When Yoongi nodded in encouragement, Jimin continued. “Like the stupid kid I was, I put blind faith into the fact that some red string told us we were supposed to be together. It was fine at first, she was sweet and we had a good time together. I don’t know now if I was legitimately in love with her, or if I just felt like I was supposed to be. But either way, it still hurt more than I could have imagined when I found out she was cheating on me.”

Yoongi’s heart clenched in empathy for Jimin but didn’t have anything he could say. He could understand exactly how that must have felt for young Jimin, having had his fair share of people using and hurting him, but this conversation wasn’t about him.

“You’re forgetting to mention about how she started treating you like shit even before that,” an unmistakable, deep voice came from the entrance to the studio. Taehyung fully entered the room, sitting next to Jimin on the couch and pulling him into his side. “She would insult him in front of friends, convince him to do ridiculous things for her all the time, just generally treated him like he was lower than her and should be lucky she was with him.”

“She wasn’t that bad,” Jimin quietly defended.

“Yes, she was,” Taehyung insisted. “She broke you down and tore you apart before she even decided to cheat on you with that sleazebag. You said your string was already gone by that time.”

Jimin relented, sighing as he lay his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’m just lucky I had Taetae. I don’t know what I would have done without him holding me up.”

Yoongi observed the two of them, Jimin still looking sad as he relived the memories in his mind and Taehyung holding onto him, almost protectively with a hard look on his face. It started to become more clear to Yoongi as to why Taehyung might not care about soulmate connections.

“Some people are assholes,” Yoongi settled on saying. “I’m really sorry that happened to you, Jimin.”

Jimin lifted his head, offering Yoongi a smile that brightened his expression a bit. “It was years ago, I’m okay now. And it doesn’t mean I can’t find someone. Same with you. If things don’t end up working between you and your soulmate, you know that doesn’t mean that you won’t find someone for you, right?”

Yoongi tensed up, trying his best not to look at Taehyung at the mention of his soulmate. Instead, he stared at his left hand, the string extending past his vision toward Taehyung as usual. “Thanks, Jimin,” he answered, not wanting to say anything else.

“Anyway, we’re all here now,” Jimin said. “So let’s go!”

“Go?” Yoongi asked. “Go where?”

“It’s the weekend, Tae and I don’t have any schedules tomorrow, and you have been slaving away at that computer all week,” Jimin said, as if that answered the question.

Taehyung chuckled when Yoongi just stared blankly at the singer for a long moment. “He means we’re going out. To a bar or club, or whatever he feels like doing.”

“Why am I included in this?” Yoongi grumbled.

“Because I said so,” Jimin answered. “You need to get out more.”

“I’m good with my music and dark rooms, thanks,” Yoongi insisted.

“I don’t know why you bother fighting this every time,” Taehyung said with a smile on his face. “You know he’s always going to win. Just gotta learn to go along with it.”

“Yes, precisely,” Jimin said, grabbing Yoongi’s arm to pull him out of his chair. “Now come on. Let’s go!”

Jimin was feeling up for a club today, apparently. Yoongi was most definitely not dressed appropriately for one, not that he had anything in his closet that would be, but Jimin and Taehyung were by far well-dressed and good-looking enough to get all three of them in.

It still surprised Yoongi that whenever they’d go out, no one really paid much attention to Jimin and Taehyung. They were both well-known and steadily getting more popular every day, yet they were left alone and unbothered when they were so out in the open. Yoongi couldn’t figure out how they did it, but he assumed that it might have had something to do with the fact that every place Jimin picked out looked higher-end than the bars Namjoon would drag him out to.

The three had barely ordered their first drinks before the first woman approached them. Yoongi paid no attention, subtly turning away from her to stay out of it. Every time this happened, they always had their eyes set on either Jimin or Taehyung—and they weren’t exactly Yoongi’s type anyway. And if it were Taehyung she had her eyes set on, it was better for him to not watch.

To his complete surprise, he felt a tap on his shoulder just a moment later. “Excuse me,” a light voice said.

Yoongi carefully turned back to face the woman, trying his best to keep his face as emotionless as usual despite how shocked he was feeling. “Yes? Do you- can I help you?”

From behind her, he could see Jimin and Taehyung both watching the interaction with rapt attention, amusement on their faces.

“I was about to dance, but I don’t want to go alone,” she pouted. “Would you come with me?” Objectively, this woman was rather beautiful. She was clearly skilled with her makeup, accentuating the soft angles of her face really well. The bold purple dress she wore was club appropriate, showing off a fair amount of skin, but also had a more classy look to it to make her stand out among the other girls in the crowd and it hugged the shape of her body really well.

“Sorry,” Yoongi replied, “I don’t really dance. My friends dragged me here.” He nodded in the direction of the two, certainly much more handsome men behind her in hopes she’d maybe pay them some attention instead.

She looked disappointed, but didn’t push, seeming to sense a rejection when she heard one. “Alright. Well, if you change your mind, feel free to find me.” Her gaze very obviously dragged up and down his body before walking away with a very intentional sway of her hips. If Yoongi were interested in women, he was sure his gaze would linger on the action, but instead he just turned to look at his still amused friends.

“You’re not going to get anyone interested in you that way,” Jimin teased.

“I don’t want anyone interested in me,” he rebutted quickly, being extra mindful to not glance at Taehyung. “I’m not even dressed well, either. Don’t know why she decided to hit on me.”

“Have you ever looked in a mirror?” Jimin asked. “You don’t need the right clothes when your face is that gorgeous.”

“She was pretty hot, though,” Taehyung said, not-so-discretely looking in the direction she had left in. “Wouldn’t have hurt to indulge her a bit.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Not my type.”

There was a time Yoongi would have been cautious about saying anything that could have even subtly hinted at who exactly his ‘type’ was. But after a while he realized that if someone were to judge or dislike him for it, then they didn’t deserve his trust anyway. He didn’t know what Jimin’s stance was and assumed that Taehyung probably at least didn’t have an issue with it since he never appeared repulsed by the fact they were soulmates, despite also not seeming to care much about it. He figured if they were going to figure out what he meant by that, this couldn’t have been the worst time for them to.

Jimin certainly seemed to be in thought after that, carefully scanning the crowd until he apparently found someone of interest. “What about him, then?” he asked completely nonchalantly, bringing Yoongi’s attention to a very handsome man.

From this distance with the dark lights, he couldn’t trust that he was seeing everything fully accurately. However what Yoongi did see was someone whose looks almost seemed to rival Jimin and Taehyung’s. A sharp jaw line, swept back brown hair and soft eyes, and he most certainly seemed to know what he was doing on the dance floor.

After taking the moment to appraise him, Yoongi gave a slight nod. “He’s definitely really attractive, at least from here.” He took a sip from his beer as he waited for one of them to say something more. When they remained quiet for a moment, he decided to ask, “It doesn’t bother you?”

Jimin smiled, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’d be lying if I said that he wasn’t my type as well. My choreographer is a guy, too. What do you think, Tae? He’s a cutie, wouldn’t you say?”

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed as he assessed the stranger. “Yeah, he’s definitely cute. Looks pretty young, though. You know I like it when they’re older, especially men.”

Jimin’s head threw back with laughter. “That’s true.”

Yoongi tried not to be too obvious about how relieved he was to find that out, hiding his smile behind the cup when he took another sip.

Ten minutes later found Jimin on the dance floor, a few shots in already, dancing with the man he picked out earlier while Yoongi and Taehyung hung back at the bar. During the few times that Yoongi had gone out like this with them, it wasn’t a common thing for Jimin or Taehyung to indulge someone else for very long. He’d seen Jimin dance with women on an occasion or two, and Taehyung would have short chats with people who were interested in him. Although that was the first time he saw either of them approach someone themselves. He wondered briefly if this might be the first night they might not all leave together.

“Don’t want anyone to be interested in you, huh?” Taehyung asked after long moments of a comfortable lull in conversation, filled only with the sounds of the club.

“Nope,” Yoongi replied, pulling his eyes away from where Jimin was dancing incredibly close to the stranger. “In places like this, people are usually just looking for a hook-up. I’m not really a hook-up kind of guy.”

Taehyung nodded. “Same,” he said, swirling his glass sitting on the bar. “Although, I find it fun to indulge. Chat a bit, see what they’re like. But if they seem to only be interested in who’s house we’re going to after, that’s the end of that for me.”

“What about Jimin? It kind of looks like he’s interested in not going home alone tonight.”

Shaking his head, Taehyung’s mouth turned down into a stupidly cute pout. “Nah, he’s too much of a romantic. He’s probably going to go home with the guy’s number, though. Jimin has a weird habit of making friends with the people he flirts with. Why? Are you jealous?”

“No, not jealous,” Yoongi replied easily. There may have been a time where he wondered if he could have had a thing with Jimin, but he was far too gone for Taehyung to even remotely consider that now. “Just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“You and me both. But he’s smarter, now. I don’t think he’d let another Miyoung into his life.”

Yoongi assumed that was the name of the ex-soulmate they talked about earlier. There was another pause in the conversation, this time heavy from the thoughtful expression Taehyung wore.

“It happens too often, you know. Not even just with teenagers. People in any stage of their life blindly trust this thing.” He was clearly looking at where their string attached itself to his left ring finger. “They assume that the person on the other end is going to be loving and compassionate, and there’s no way they wouldn’t work out. It’s so stupid.”

That felt like a stab to Yoongi’s chest. “Maybe some people just don’t have anyone else who can love them.”

“I’m sorry, that sounded harsh,” Taehyung backtracked. “I didn’t mean that about you, it’s just a general observation. Everyone in this world has a string connected to them at some point. But not everyone in the world is a good person. People who are assholes, abusers, criminals, killers, they all have a soulmate. But so many people assume that the person they’re attached to is just going to be amazing when it’s actually not often the case. Did you know there are some really interesting statistics around divorce rates?”

“Oh?” Yoongi asked, genuinely interested. He had never thought about that before, but Taehyung was really making a lot of sense so far and he was curious of what he had to say.

“Among divorcees if you divide the couples into who were soulmates when they met and who weren’t, there’s a much higher percentage of soulmate couples. It was somewhere around 70% soulmates last time I looked. It makes sense in one way because that’s also the majority of people who end up getting married. But when you hear their stories, almost all of them are the same. It’s some version of how they put faith into the string and rushed their relationship without properly developing a connection, and then they found out too late that they weren’t actually compatible. Or worse, that one of them was abusive in some way, overly possessive, or anything else from a list of red flags you’d usually find out during a relationship where you would have gotten to know them properly without a silly string telling you they were ‘the one.’ Non-soulmate couples who have talked about their stories tend to boil it down to other things, like growing apart over time, their partner cheating or becoming a ‘different person’ than they used to be. Rarely anything about rushing into something blindly.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Yoongi said after waiting a moment to make sure Taehyung was done explaining. “I realized earlier that what happened with Jimin might have had something to do with our first meeting.”

Taehyung cringed. “Yeah, I’m still sorry about that. But yes, he’s one reason. He’s not the only person I care about who’s been burned by their soulmate though.” He stared into his drink, a distant look in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi caught sight of Jimin walking back to them with the mystery guy he had been dancing with being dragged behind him.

“Guys, say hi to Jungkook!” Jimin excitedly said as he approached.

It was almost scary how abruptly Taehyung’s expression changed as he turned to his best friend in amusement. “I was just telling Yoongi that you have a habit of making friends by flirting with them. Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Taehyung.”

“I mean that turned out amazing for us, didn’t it?” Jimin said through a laugh.

Jungkook turned out to be a really sweet guy, and the four of them spent the rest of their night just chatting at the bar. Well, mostly Jimin and Taehyung were the ones chatting. Jungkook seemed to be more reserved like Yoongi, so the two mostly just responded when asked a question or being dragged into the current topic.

“You know,” Jimin slurred when he had already gotten well past the point of being drunk, a wobbly finger pointing at Yoongi, “that soulmate of yours must be really dumb.”

Yoongi quickly glanced at Taehyung to see him looking uncomfortable. Tensing up, Yoongi cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I would,” Jimin insisted. “Whoever he is, he should be thankful that he gets to be your soulmate. You are amazing.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi sighed. “Maybe he has his reasons.”

“But it’s not fair.” The pout was obvious in his voice despite Yoongi not being able to see it due to the man now draping himself over Yoongi’s back. “You said you weren’t happy with how things were going between you two. I don’t like that he’s making you upset.”

Yoongi closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath, not wanting to see Taehyung’s reaction. He already knew the model wasn’t interested and didn’t want to feel that sting of rejection right now. “We should get you home,” Yoongi said to change the subject. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’ll pull the car around,” Taehyung said, seeming really eager to walk away.

Jimin continued to whine, sniffles interrupting here and there while he kept saying how it wasn’t fair and he wanted Yoongi to be happy. While Yoongi’s heart clenched with appreciation for his friend’s concern, he didn’t want to feed into the conversation again.

Hurried knocks on Yoongi’s studio door cut through the track that Yoongi was currently editing. Finding a spot he felt comfortable to stop at, he answered the door to a very smiling and excited Jimin throwing his arms around him.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it, Yoongi!” the now pink-haired singer yelled a little too loud for being right next to Yoongi’s ear.

“Can’t believe what, Jimin?” Yoongi asked as he gently pushed the man back a bit.

Jimin raised his left hand in between them as if that would answer Yoongi’s question. “I have a new soulmate!”

Well, that was unexpected. Confused and surprised, Yoongi tilted his head as he tried to figure that one out. “What do you mean you have a new soulmate? That’s possible?”

“Yeah! It was something I looked into years ago when I was upset about losing mine,” Jimin elaborated. “It’s actually more common than you’d expect. Soulmates drifting apart or separating, whatever causes the string to disappear. But it’s possible to find a new one later. I always hoped it would happen to me but I had no idea how it would. Like, would it happen when I met them, or if I started feeling something for someone?”

“So how did your string appear?” Yoongi asked through his amazement of the new information.

A blush settled on Jimin’s cheeks, looking suddenly shy as he said, “We kissed.”

Jimin was certainly full of surprises today. “Oh, well that’s… good, I guess. Who is it?”

“Hoseok,” Jimin said with a smile. “My choreographer that I’ve been gushing to you about lately. We’ve been getting closer and, I don’t know. It just- it felt right. And we kissed, then the string appeared and connected us. He’s so great, Yoongi. He’s so funny and nice and, I just- I feel so happy.”

“That’s really great, Jimin,” Yoongi genuinely said, a smile sitting on his face. “I’m really happy for you.”

Sighing, Jimin relaxed into the couch in Yoongi’s studio just as another knock, much more calm this time, sounded on the door. Yoongi opened it once more, letting in a confused Taehyung.

Nothing had changed between Yoongi and Taehyung after that night at the club even after another few weeks had passed. They still talked and hung out, usually with Jimin and oftentimes Jungkook as well now. They both seemed to silently agree to act like Jimin’s drunken outburst had never happened, while Yoongi’s heart continued to break every time he saw the string fade more and more. It was almost gone now, hardly visible. It probably wouldn’t make it through the week.

“Is everything alright with Jimin?” Taehyung asked as he stepped in. “He just texted me to come meet him here and that it was a red alert?” He turned to the singer in question, starting to examine him over as if looking for injuries.

Which queued Jimin filling him in on his new soulmate. Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock, but seemed just as happy and excited as Jimin was. Yoongi couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, staring wistfully at his own string.

“It’s been a few weeks since we’ve talked about the soulmate thing,” Jimin said to Yoongi after they both calmed down. “I want to ask, but I don’t kn-”

“Same as it was last we talked,” Yoongi interrupted. “Nothing new to report.”

Jimin sighed. “I know I was drunk when I said it, but I’m serious that whoever this guy is dumb. It is a guy, right? I just assumed since you seemed interested and made it pretty clear you’re not into girls.”

Turning to his computer so he didn’t accidentally look at Taehyung, Yoongi steeled himself for not being able to dismiss the conversation this time. “Yeah, it’s a guy. And also, you should stop saying that. He has his reasons. And just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean he needs to like me.”

“But he should!” Jimin insisted. “You’re really a catch, Yoongi. He’s really dumb for not wanting something with you. And he’s making you feel sad, I don’t like that.”

“Jimin, please drop it,” Yoongi said as gently as he could, pleading tone to his voice.

It was quiet for a moment before an, “It’s me,” sounded into the room.

Yoongi’s head snapped around to stare at Taehyung, surprised at the words he just muttered, while Jimin’s face morphed into confusion.

“What?” Jimin almost whispered. “What did you say?”

“Yoongi’s soulmate,” Taehyung elaborated, pausing to take a deep breath. “It’s me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, looking back and forth between the two. “Seriously? You’ve been talking about Tae this whole time? Really?”

Looking at the nearly faded string that only one person in the room couldn’t see, Yoongi nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Jimin asked, almost sounding offended. “I just- oh my god, I just said- Yoongi I’m so, so sorry. I just-”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi said. “I think he knew, anyway.”

After a moment of loaded silence, Jimin broke it again. “Alright, I take back what I said, then. Kim Taehyung, you-” Jimin hit him over the head with one of the throw pillows from the couch “-are undeniably, one hundred percent an absolute moron! You have a whole ass Min Yoongi that your soul is literally tied to and you’re not taking that opportunity? What the fuck!”

By this point, Yoongi’s neck should be sore from the amount of whiplash he’d experienced today.

Taehyung looked a little bit like a cornered animal, unsure of what to do. “Jimin, you know about how I feel about soulmates.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jimin said, still seeming exasperated at his best friend. “You don’t trust it, fine. I get it, I really do. But seriously? You guys have been getting along so well, and you’re telling me you haven’t felt like you wanted to date him at all? I know you, Kim Taehyung. I can tell when-”

“It never ends well,” Taehyung interrupted, remaining surprisingly calm.

“Just because both your dad and I got screwed over by our soulmates doesn’t mean everyone does, Taehyung,” Jimin said. “I get why you’re hesitant. And I think it’s really great that you’re getting to know each other instead of jumping into something too early, but seriously?” By this point, Yoongi just felt like a bystander even though the conversation was about something he was very much in the middle of. “How strong is the string?”

When Taehyung’s eyes shifted, settling on the floor without answering, Jimin finally turned back to Yoongi. “How strong is the string?” he repeated.

“It’s um-” Yoongi cleared his throat “-it’s pretty faded. Getting kind of hard to see.”

Jimin sympathetically smiled at Yoongi before turning back to Taehyung and smacking him with the pillow one more time. “I repeat. You are a moron. You guys are talking this out. Right now.”

“Jimin-” Taehyung started.

“Nope,” Jimin stopped him. “I am leaving the room and standing guard outside. And you are going to sit in here and talk your shit out.”

Standing up, Jimin stopped to give Yoongi a strong hug and then threw one last glare at his best friend before closing the door behind him.

While Yoongi tried to process the roller coaster Jimin just put him through, Taehyung leaned back into the couch, running a hand over his face as he sighed. “I don’t know what he expects us to talk about.”

The door opened once more, Jimin having known the password and just usually knocked to be polite, to say, “In case you’re having trouble figuring out where to start, your baggage is a great place to, Taehyung.” Then he firmly closed the door once again.

An awkward silence sat between the two for a moment while Yoongi did his best to look anywhere besides Taehyung or their string.

“You don’t have to,” Yoongi was the first to speak. “If you wanted to give us a shot the string wouldn’t be fading, so I already know your answer.”

“The most valuable lesson I learned from my parents,” Taehyung said, “was to never trust the soulmate string. They did, and my dad ended up so much worse because of it. He always tells me the only good thing he ever got from her was me.”

Yoongi’s mouth was firmly shut as Taehyung started pouring out what was probably his most personal story.

“They were soulmates,” he continued. “They trusted it, didn’t take their time and just rushed into a relationship like so many other people do. But my mom was a bitch, told me all the time I was a mistake and she didn’t even want me. She was so abusive in every way. Verbally, mentally, physically she abused us. Mostly my dad because he did what he could to keep her hands off of me. It wasn’t until I was twelve years old that my dad finally was able to get us away from her. The courts even tried forcing him to give me back to her, too. That’s a really weird thing about the court system, they tend to favor the mothers in these situations. But luckily my dad had taken pictures, and I guess I was barely old enough that they took my testimony against her somewhat seriously so in the end I got to stay safe, with Dad.”

Taehyung stood, walking closer to where Yoongi sat at his desk and sitting on the floor in front of him. “So needless to say, I kind of have a really bad opinion on soulmates. Between him and then Jimin, I just started to feel like they were pointless, that it was always going to be a bad idea to trust the string. I promised myself I’d never let the people who care about me see me go through what they had.”

“I understand,” Yoongi said. “I don’t think you should feel obligated to care about me just because we have this string. And you certainly don’t have to feel bad for me about it.”

“You, um,” Taehyung seemed nervous. “Jimin made it sound like that you are, uh, interested in dating me.”

Looking at the floor, Yoongi nodded. No point in trying to lie about that.

“Why?” Taehyung asked.

Yoongi turned back to him, confusion knitting his brows together. “What do you mean why?”

“Is it because of this?” Taehyung lifted his left hand, the string moving and bending with it as if it were an actual, tangible thing.

“No,” Yoongi didn’t hesitate to respond. “I can’t deny that I had been looking forward to meeting my soulmate. I- well, things have just always gone wrong for me, I guess. And I hoped that could change when I met my soulmate. But I usually forget about it when we hang out. I just enjoy spending time with you, as Kim Taehyung. Anything I’ve ever felt for you has nothing to do with us being soulmates.”

It was silent for a few moments while Taehyung seemed to be in thought. Yoongi turned to his computer, not really doing anything in particular, but just wanting to keep himself occupied to ease the anxious knot in his stomach.

Before either of them said anything else, Yoongi’s phone started vibrating on the desk. The manager of his apartment complex was calling, which was never a good sign. Sliding the green button on the screen, Yoongi tried to keep his voice from shaking as he answered.

“Hey Yoongi,” she greeted. “Sorry to bother you while you’re probably at work, but he’s here again. He’s just sitting outside of your door and won’t leave.”

Yoongi sighed, feeling bad for the poor woman. She was a really nice lady and didn’t deserve to deal with his father’s bullshit. After probably the fifth time the police were called to forcibly remove him, he had figured out that if he didn’t act violently and appeared innocent, they wouldn’t interfere. So now, the only way to get him to leave was for Yoongi to attempt to deal with him, and then call the cops if he did start to get violent. To be honest, he was lucky the woman refused to evict him over it.

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’m sorry for needing to ask.”

“Not your fault, either. I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

He hung up the phone as he got up to gather his things and leave.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung asked, almost nervously, from the floor.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” Yoongi said. “Something came up and I have to go home.” As he walked toward the door, a thought popped into his head. “I promise this doesn’t have anything to do with what we were just talking about. I just genuinely have something to take care of and it can’t wait.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, both him and the apartment manager knowing this was going to be one visit that would end with the cops dragging him out.

“Is everything okay?” Taehyung asked as he got up from the floor.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

When he opened the door, Yoongi was unsurprised to not see Jimin standing there like he said he would be. Knowing him, he probably stuck around just long enough to make sure they started talking before leaving, and probably to go hang out with his new soulmate.

He could feel Taehyung’s presence closely behind him as he walked down the hallway, finding it oddly comforting since he could tell the man seemed genuinely concerned. It was then that Yoongi remembered something important.

“Fuck,” Yoongi said as he stopped in his tracks. “I walked to work today. It’s not that far, but I don’t want to be too long and risk him causing a scene.” Yoongi turned around, and probably would have laughed at Taehyung’s surprised expression if it weren’t for the situation he was preparing to handle. “I’m really sorry to ask, but did you drive here? Do you have something you need to do soon?”

Taehyung gently shook his head no, but didn’t say anything. When Yoongi continued staring at him, he seemed to realize he needed to elaborate. “Oh. Yes, I drove here and no I don’t have anything else I need to do today.”

“Okay, again I’m sorry to ask but could I borrow your car?” Yoongi hesitantly asked. “Or drive me there and then you can leave. I just want to get home as quickly as possible.”

“I’ll drive you,” Taehyung said, and the two continued walking toward the elevator at a quickened pace. “Seriously, is everything okay?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Yoongi insisted. “I’ve had to handle this a ton of times before, and this time isn’t going to be any different.”

They spoke very little on the way there except for Yoongi to give Taehyung directions. His heart flipped in his chest to think about the fact that this was the first time Taehyung was seeing where he lived, but it wasn’t exactly something to be excited about at the moment. He’d see it and then drive away. And the next time Yoongi would see him, the string connecting them may very possibly be gone. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that other than the fact that it scared him.

“Thank you so much,” Yoongi said as Taehyung pulled into the parking garage with ease. “You don’t need to wait for me. I can get back to work on my own.”

“I’ll wait,” Taehyung rushed out before Yoongi closed the door. “I want to talk to you when you get back, so I’ll wait. Should I come with you?”

“No, please don’t come with me. I’d rather not get you mixed up in this. I’ll be back soon. Hopefully,” Yoongi said before closing the car door and walking to the elevator which he could take directly to his floor with his ID. He tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for it to climb up and up, until the doors finally opened on the right floor and he did his best not to rush out. As much as he didn’t want his father inside his home, it was best to not get him agitated before then. Especially if he had been drinking.

Pretending to not have noticed the man leaning against the wall next his door, Yoongi made sure his father couldn’t see the numbers as he typed in his code and opened it. Without looking behind him, Yoongi left it open for him to follow before acknowledging his existence.

“Yoongi,” the man said, elongating the vowels. Definitely drunk.

“What do you want this time?” Yoongi asked, already annoyed. “More money?”

“What? A father isn’t allowed to come see his son?” The look on his face would have appeared as offence to anyone else, but Yoongi knew better.

“You never want to just see me for no reason,” Yoongi said. “What do you want?”

“Always straight to the point,” his father said, almost sounding like praise. But again, Yoongi knew better. “I need some help.”

Sighing, Yoongi turned into his kitchen. He hadn’t eaten lunch yet and was getting pretty hungry so he figured he might as well do something useful while he listened to his father’s excuses this time. “So you want money again.”

“I’m going to get kicked out of my house.”

“Good, maybe that’ll teach you to be more responsible with your money.”

“I’m your father, don’t talk to me like that.”

“Yes, you’re my father.” Yoongi dug around his fridge for some leftovers from last night. “My father who won’t get a job, spends all his money on alcohol and gambling, and then comes crawling back to his son for cash when he can’t afford to pay his bills or buy his groceries because he wasted all the money that his son had lent him the last time. The same money that is always given with the condition that it’s to be used only for your rent and groceries, but it never is.”

His father scoffed. “What good is it to have a son who makes a ton of money when he won’t take care of you?”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you treated your son like he was a worthless piece of shit. You reap what you sow, I guess.”

“You fucking-”

Yoongi placed his food on the counter and turned around in time to block the punch that was far too sluggish to be effective anyway. “You might want to add some new tricks to your bag, old man. You’re too predictable.” His father lowered his raised fist as Yoongi let his grip loose. “And I’m not giving you any more money. I told you last time that I wouldn’t be doing this again, and I intend on keeping that promise.”

“You don’t care that your father’s about to be homeless? When you’re living in this nice apartment in a nice neighborhood?”

“No, I don’t. You only care about me when I’m useful to you. Before, you used to think of me as just some piece of shit who wasn’t worth your time. Now, you only care that I have money and could support your alcoholic ass if I chose to. But guess what? I’m done. I told you a month ago that was going to be the last time and I meant it. Now fuck off.”

“I didn’t raise you to be a disrespectful piece of shit.”

Yoongi prepared for the next attempt to hit him, but to his surprise it didn’t come when they were both distracted by a very familiar voice calling from the entryway.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s deep timbre sounded into the house. “Yoongi, are you here? Is everything okay?”

“I told you to stay in the car,” Yoongi sighed when Taehyung made his way into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be here. Please go back to the car. I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Yoongi’s father asked.

“Who the fuck are you?” Taehyung deflected back.

“I’m his father,” he replied before turning back to Yoongi. “Don’t tell me your gay little ass got yourself a boyfriend.”

“Excuse you?” Taehyung answered while Yoongi bit his tongue. “First of all, that’s apparently none of your business if that’s how you’re going to talk to him. Second, Yoongi, are you okay?” his voice became much softer as he asked, making Yoongi’s heart feel warm.

“I’m fine,” Yoongi replied. “No need to get yourself involved. I’ve got this under control. Now, if you would leave, Dad, we have nothing else to talk about here.”

“I need fucking money, Yoongi!”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that.” Yoongi turned back to the counter to open his container of leftover food and pop it in the microwave as he spoke. “But you’re not getting it from me. How about you stop drinking and get yourself a job. Maybe then you’d have some money.”

“Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean it’s easy to get fucking money. You think it’s easy?”

Yoongi was more than done with him at this point. “I know it’s not easy. I grew up with you as my parent, remember? After mom died, you could hardly even keep a roof over our heads and I had to work low-paying shit jobs as soon as I could to help you before I got out of there and slowly worked my way to where I am. So yeah, I know it’s not. But I’ve given you so many chances, way more than you deserve, frankly. And I’m done. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you for you to understand.”

When Yoongi’s father knew he had nothing to say back, he resorted to his fists. When the first one extended it was Taehyung, who had been silently standing back and watching their argument, who moved forward to restrain him.

“Keep your filthy hands off of me!” Yoongi’s father struggled as Taehyung kept his arms locked behind him.

“That’s what Yoongi should be saying to you,” Taehyung rebutted as he dragged the man toward the entrance to the apartment. Yoongi followed, watching as his soulmate shoved the still yelling man over the threshold and quickly shut the door behind him, locking him out.

“Taehyung, what-”

“The woman downstairs said she would call the cops,” Taehyung spoke over the pounding and yelling from the other side of the door.

“How did you even know where my apartment was?” Yoongi asked, still trying to process what just happened.

“The way you phrased things made me worried,” Taehyung said as he walked further into the house. “So I got out of the car not long after you and asked the lady at the front desk about you. She seemed relieved that you had someone to help you, and then told me she’d go ahead and call the cops then if you were already up here talking to him. Obviously, I got even more worried so when she told me your room number I hurried up.”

“But how’d you get in?”

“The door was left open.”

Of course his father hadn’t closed the door. Sighing, Yoongi retreated back to the kitchen to get his food from the microwave which had been annoyingly beeping at him periodically to remind him that it was done. His hands started shaking as he placed the container back on the counter, residual adrenaline from the argument keeping his body over fueled.

After taking a breath to steady himself, Yoongi grabbed some chopsticks and took his dinner to the table to eat, Taehyung closely following. While he settled in to eating, he could hear the police filing into the hallway to collect his father and drag him away.

“Yoongi, if he ever comes back here again, please don’t face him alone,” Taehyung said as he pulled back a chair to sit in. “Call me next time.”

“I’ve handled him all my life, I can take care of it on my own.” Yoongi poked his food around as he spoke, not yet having taken a real bite of it.

“But you don’t have to.”

Looking up at him, Yoongi’s gaze met Taehyung’s. A silent moment sat between them, charged but not uncomfortable. “I guess it’s time for me to tell you my baggage, huh?” Yoongi asked.

“Only if you want, but you don’t have to,” Taehyung replied easily. “You could always tell me later.”

Yoongi chanced a glance toward the string, heart dropping when it was still just as faded as before, maybe even a little more. “It’ll be gone soon,” he whispered before shoveling the first bite of rice into his mouth. After he finished chewing, he sighed. “I feel like I need to talk about it now. I just- he gets me so angry. There’s only been one person I’ve ever been able to vent to about anything, and I just really want to get it all out right now.”

Nodding, Taehyung said, “Okay. If you want to, then go ahead. I’m here, I’m listening.” The sincere look in his eyes could have fooled Yoongi.

“My mom was really nice, at least from what I remember. I think she was the only thing that kept my dad held together. But she got sick when I was still young, so then it was just me and my dad. He had a hard time keeping a steady job, would start going to drink and just didn’t pay much attention to me. He didn’t hit me or anything back then, but he just didn’t seem to care much. And then, when I realized that I was gay, he became disgusted with me. Told me how wrong it was, how much of an abomination I was, use slurs with me. That was around when he started becoming violent, too. Was always a bad hit, though.”

“Asshole,” Taehyung muttered under his breath.

That got a chuckle out of Yoongi. “Yeah, basically. I tried to find other people who would accept me. I didn’t think anything was wrong with me, despite what he said. I had heard about same-sex couples who were soulmates not being very uncommon, how it is a really old idea from back when soulmates were completely ignored that it was somehow unnatural and wrong. And even before I started making a bunch of money, he’d always expect me to support him. I had to try to make enough to support myself, and him at the same time because he never got his act together. It’s always been like that.”

Taehyung shifted in his seat, seeming to have something to say but was too nervous to. When Yoongi looked at him and nodded once in encouragement, he gently spoke. “You mentioned earlier that you were unhappy and hoped meeting your soulmate would change that. Is it because of him?”

“He was the first reason. It became a pattern in my life for people to just not care or hurt me. My best friend, Namjoon, he’s always trying to tell me that I deserve to be loved. But everyone has always made me feel like I can’t have it. My father was just the first one to show me that.”

“You do, though,” Taehyung said. “Deserve love, I mean. You really do.”

Trying his hardest to ignore the painful clench of his heart in the irony of Taehyung being the one to say that, Yoongi pushed his food away and set down his chopsticks, no longer feeling hungry.

“Do you want to talk about the others?” Taehyung carefully asked.

Nodding, Yoongi took in a breath to brace himself to continue. “So the first person I told about my sexuality was my closest friend at the time. He didn’t take it well, either. He was always really nice, but then suddenly he became cold and didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. It only got worse after that. When I went to college, I had a crush on this one guy who knew about it but all I was good to him for was to be used to get off, and eventually he got tired of me. Anyone who ever acted interested in me in some way, it was never for me. No one ever cared about me, just that I was a guy they knew was gay and could be used for their closeted asses.”

“That’s why you were hoping your soulmate would be different.” It wasn’t a question that Taehyung muttered, barely above a whisper. “But when we met I just walked away without even talking to you, just like another one of those jerks. Didn’t even give you a chance.”

Yoongi said nothing, just stared at their string that was still hardly there at all. He was so shocked when Taehyung’s hand covered his that he almost pulled his own away.

“Jimin’s right,” were the next words out of Taehyung’s mouth. “I’m a moron. My whole issue about soulmates is that people don’t take the time to properly get to know someone and run so far ahead without even thinking. But we’re friends, we’ve been getting to know each other for quite a while now. And instead of thinking that means it’s okay to give us a chance, I’ve been stuck in this mindset of thinking that I can’t follow the string. That it’s somehow inevitably going to lead me to pain. Even though I-”

Heart pounding, Yoongi’s eyes searched Taehyung’s face in hopes of seeing what he was about to say.

“Just the thought that this string connecting us is going to disappear forever because I’m being such an indecisive, baggage-carrying ass, it absolutely terrifies me. I don’t want it to disappear. I used to hate it, I thought it wouldn’t do anything but cause me problems. But, Yoongi-” Taehyung’s eyes finally connected with Yoongi’s “-I feel like it was impossible for me to not fall for you. I’ve just been ignoring it because I’ve been scared and- fuck, I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense to me now that I’ve actually thought about it. I just feel like an idiot for fighting it all this time now.”

Surely Taehyung had to be able to hear how fast Yoongi’s heart was pounding in his chest. Was he being honest? It would still make sense as to why the string kept fading, but if he was being honest about it now, the string should be becoming brighter, shouldn’t it? Looking at it again, he could see that it wasn’t. Was the damage that’s been done to it permanent?

“I understand if it’s too late, though,” Taehyung said, nearly breaking Yoongi’s heart in half. “Even if we’ve been good friends up until now, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve let you get strung along while I didn’t know what to do with myself. Oh wow, that was a pun right there. That wasn’t even intentional. But whatever, I just mean-”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi interrupted. Blinking back at him, Taehyung stayed quiet while he waited for Yoongi to continue. “If you really mean all of that, then you have a lot of making up to do.”

“Do you mean…”

“The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, the same man that I have been falling for so hard and so fast ever since the first time we spoke to each other, just told me that he’s been falling for me too. How am I supposed to reject that?”

Taehyung’s chest rose up and down with how hard he was breathing. “Maybe- maybe we should think about this. It’s been an emotional day and we should take a moment. I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret because you’re not able to think properly-”

“I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions and have been practically praying for this day to happen. Kim Taehyung, if you meant everything you just told me, then you better come over here and kiss me within the next five seconds or so help me, I-”

It was Taehyung’s turn to cut Yoongi off, but by joining their lips together. One of his beautiful, large hands rested on the back of Yoongi’s head, making him tilt it just a little to make the kiss easier from the awkward angle. Yoongi felt like his heart was soaring as he eagerly returned the kiss, pressing back into Taehyung’s soft lips. He could swear he felt something tingling on his left ring finger, but was absolutely not breaking the kiss to take a look.

Gripping onto Taehyung’s shirt, Yoongi stood up carefully enough to make sure their lips stayed connected. Wanting to deepen the kiss, he parted his lips just enough to give Taehyung the invitation to do so. He was rewarded with a delightful groan as Taehyung’s tongue tangled with his own. It was only their first kiss, no time yet to learn how to navigate each other and what each of them liked, but it was by far the best thing Yoongi had ever experienced in his life. It was almost as if he could feel Taehyung pouring his emotions into it.

When they finally pulled away from each other minutes or maybe hours later, out of breath, Yoongi thought that maybe Taehyung really did. They rested their foreheads together for a moment, smiling at each other like they’d never been happier in their lives—and maybe Yoongi hadn’t. Yoongi was the first to chance a look at where the string wrapped around his finger only for his smile to grow wider. He looked back up into Taehyung’s eyes once more as he lifted his left hand for the other to see for himself.

“It’s back,” Taehyung breathlessly marveled. “Is it-” he pulled away just enough to look at his own “-is it just me because I got so used to seeing it fading, or is it brighter than before now?”

“I don’t think it’s ever been this vivid,” Yoongi answered. “I always remembered it being just slightly transparent. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an actual, real string on my finger right now.”

Taehyung’s light laugh made Yoongi’s already palpitating heart jump even more. “Kiss me?” Taehyung asked.

Who was Yoongi to refuse that request?

“So does this mean I’m not going to have you coming to me to mope about your soulmate anymore?” Namjoon teased when Yoongi finally introduced the two. It was a stupidly large gathering at Jimin’s house, who had insisted that they had to celebrate not just one, but two soulmate pairs getting together. Jimin demanded that Yoongi invited Namjoon so he could meet him, and had invited Jungkook who also brought his older brother Seokjin since Jimin saw a picture of him and demanded that he needed to meet such a beauty in person. And of course Hoseok was there as well.

So there were seven of them. Maybe not large for Jimin’s standards, but this was absolutely a huge gathering for Yoongi who preferred to just chill at home by himself—well not so much by himself since he now had an actual boyfriend who he just couldn’t help wanting to see all the time.

“You act like I did that all the time,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. “I only did that once.”

“Twice,” Namjoon corrected. “Once when you first met, and then when you met the second time. You came to my house so late at night, already halfway to drunk, and kept me up way too late telling me about how you could just tell that it was already doomed to fail.”

Yoongi didn’t need to look to know Taehyung was pouting. He could practically feel its aura. “We’re not doomed though, are we, Yoongi?”

“You would have failed if it weren’t for me,” Jimin inserted himself into the conversation. “You literally owe this whole entire thing to me. If I hadn’t met Yoongi through work, and I wasn’t best friends with you’re dumb but beautiful ass, you probably wouldn’t have even talked at all. And I was the one who forced you to air out your dirty laundry so that you could actually talk things out like adults.”

“Yes, thank you, Almighty Jimin who shall never let us live that down,” Taehyung said as he exaggeratedly bowed to him. “I promise to name one of my future children after you to honor the good deeds you have done for me and my boyfriend.”

“I shall accept that payment,” Jimin said, definitely enjoying himself more than he should.

“If we have or adopt kids in the future, we are not naming them after Jimin,” Yoongi said, bursting Jimin’s bubble of delight. “And also, please don’t compliment my boyfriend’s ass, it’s off limits.”

“So’s mine, so it’s even.” Jimin laughed, leaning into his own boyfriend since he could never keep himself standing when he laughed too hard for some reason.

“Dude, why did you never introduce me to your new friends before this?” Namjoon cut in suddenly. “I like them already.”

“Of course you do,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “You can have them if you want. I don’t think I want to keep him anymore.”

“Hey! We literally just established how you two owe me a child for putting you together,” Jimin said.

Sighing, Yoongi rolled his eyes. “That is not what we-”

“I promise to not forget my debt to you, my Savior Jimin.” Taehyung yet again played up worshiping the man while Yoongi merely questioned every choice he made to put himself here.

But when he saw the string on his finger, bright as ever, he couldn’t help but smile. Thanks to not just Taehyung but also the other people who had recently entered his life, he smiled much more than before. He had people who accepted him for who he was and cared about him.

Sometimes, the string was wrong. Not even that could be perfect. But sometimes, it got this so, so right. And Yoongi was just happy that in the end, his soulmate did end up being the person who could love him the way he had longed for for so long.

My ask box is always open!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :) You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

#bts fanfic #bts mxm #yoongi x taehyung #taehyung x yoongi #suga x v #v x suga #soulmate!au #soulmates #oneshot #angst #thebtswritersclub #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btscreatorscorner

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ichigo-kamome · 3 years

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Start Over - Imagine Dragons - Sakuatsu One Shot

Okay HI GUYS so first post

(wow how cool)

I wanted to do a little writing exercise and shuffle a playlist I really enjoy and then write for characters based on the song. So, Start Over by Imagine Dragons was my first song <3 here’s a link to the song!! https://open.spotify.com/track/2Iug43iQrHN8CbGsUd2tEt?si=CrDSFtEpRKe1UkYojJwWiQ&dl_branch=1

This is just going to be a quick one shot because I can only listen to a song on repeat so many times before wanting to scream, so it stops whenever I get annoyed of the song :) ig this is angst with like a good ending? IDEK HAHA BUT ENJOY!!

oh and there is a bit of language in this? :,D also I didn’t edit this because I didn’t have time to so my apologies for unintentional grammar mistakes and misspellings! :,>

The plane was filled with hardly any noise at all, but in Atsumu’s mind there was a storm of noise, emotion, and words. So many words. Words he was told, words he said, words he shouldn’t have said, words he should have said.

Actions. Ones he did take, ones he didn’t take, all of them ran through his mind faster than the plane was soaring in the air. The silence around him felt entirely deafening, and there was nothing he could do in this moment but sit there and replay the memories of the past night.

He was more than aware that he had royally messed up. Sakusa Kyoomi had informed him of that. Yet, his own ego rendered him completely blind the moment he heard such words.

“You care so much about appearances, yet you refuse to work on your own. Becoming a better version of yourself on the court is something you’re more than willing to do, but outside of that? Where the public eye is blind to? Well, so are you.”

Those words replayed countless times, echoing off walls and coming back to him. It was all he could think about. How he had done Omi wrong, and how all he wanted to do was fix their situation.

However, that wasn’t exactly possible in the present situation.

Miya Atsumu was on an airplane with no cell service, and he would be stuck there for multiple hours. It felt like hell, having to sit there for so long with his own thoughts and the words that he heard last night. The words that were true. Then again, it wasn’t all a bad thing that he had to reflect on the situation.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was also left alone with his own thoughts, emotions, the words that were spoken last night. This odd feeling of the presence and absence of regret plagued him in his isolation. He knew that what he said needed to get to Atsumu in some way.

Lately, the setter had been so concerned with who he was on the court that he had forgotten to examine his character off the court. Of course, this led to mistakes, apologies, more mistakes, more apologies, an endless cycle of hurting those around him, and Sakusa left alone many nights in which he shouldn’t have been. The pain he felt wasn’t sharp, however. It was more of a dull, emotionless pain that caused him to feel somewhat repulsed.

“Ya shouldn’t be hangin’ around someone who makes you feel like trash, right? So, I’ll do the honors and kindly fuck off for a while. See how ya like it, Omi.” He still was dumbfounded by those words. He knew Miya to be someone who would sometimes speak first without fully evaluating how it would effect the other party, but he didn’t realize just what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of those comments.

Sakusa and Atsumu had a relatively healthy relationship. Of course, they had their disagreements, but there had never been an explicit moment in which Sakusa could remember that Miya would have the chance to lash out so harshly.

That’s a good thing, at least. It’s only happened once. He thought.

But, how long until it happens again?

Omi felt his heart sink and he sighed, trying not to think too much about that right now.

What if there isn’t an “again”?

---

Again. A word Sakusa didn’t seem to be fond of in the recent weeks. Atsumu had always made the same mistakes, again. He had always been out too late with other people, again. He had always come home the next morning, again. Apologized, again. Said he’s never do it, again.

But now, the word had new meaning. If there was no again for Atsumu to hurt him, would that mean that he had moved on? Would that mean his leaving was final and there wouldn’t be any risk to get hurt again?

There was always a risk to get hurt. Sakusa knew that full well. And, he knew there was a risk to get hurt repeatedly. However, if there was no risk, that meant there was no Atsumu. While he didn’t like risk, he didn’t like the idea of never being able to say “I love you,” again to his best friend.

Miya Atsumu had been gone for a couple weeks for training in another country. He had been so far, and yet all he wanted to do was go back home to the people he cared about.

He had messed up so many times. He had his “fall” and realized he sure as hell didn’t like how lonely it was on the bottom. The people he had neglected to care about recently weren’t there, and everything that came along with promise was so far from that. He didn’t want to be there and longer, and knew he had to change his habits and lifestyle outside of the court to better himself and lend more towards those he truly cared for.

One of those people being Sakusa Kiyoomi.

God, I need to call him before my flight back home, was all he could think. He was sitting in the airport with less than 5 minutes until he was to board. I have time, he thought.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Sakusa’s number by instinct. Omi <3 read the contact. He hesitated only slightly. Maybe this is better to settle in person. A phone call isn’t the best way to discuss this, especially when I only have so much time.

He sucked in a deep breath. There was no way he could do this properly

“But, I hafta at least try.”

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Damn, Omi, pick up...

Four

Five.

“Hello?” He heard at last.

“OMI!” Atsumu practically shouted in the middle of the air port. People turned their heads towards him dramatically, some looking aggravated, some confused, some about to laugh. He didn’t care. The noise in his mind had already been that loud, so he had hardly noticed the stark contrast when he spoke at such a loud volume.

“Ow, okay, no need to shout. It’s a phone call, I’m right here. Why did you call?” Omi said monotonously. Atsumu felt a cold shiver run down his spine, and all at once he wanted to hit the large red button on his phone screen and pretend he never called and their argument never happened and everything was okay. However, that would get them nowhere. That’s not what Atsumu wanted.

“Heya, uhm, I don’t exacly have a lot of time?”

“Mm. Figures.”

“But all I’ve been able ta think about lately is how ya were so right.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi wished he had been recording this call, because he might not ever hear those words again. Before, it was always ‘I was wrong,’ never, ‘you were right.’

“And I’ve been treatin’ like so much less than ya deserve. Yer one of my favorite people, Omi, and I have don’t nothin to show that ta ya.”

Silence for the first time in two weeks.

“I wanna do better by ya. And, I don’t have a lot of time ta get into details because I board the plane shortly... and I don’t expect an immediate answer from ya, but, can try again?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t push your luck, you heard me the first time. Get home safely.”

“Oh. And, of course, we can talk more about it later and everything, because I still have a lot ta say and I wanna hear what you hafta say too because what you wanna say is important to me an-”

“Miya?”

“Yes?” he sucked in a breath, holding it in the absence of conversation.

A pause.

“Get home safely. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah, you got it. Me too.”

“Goodbye. See you soon.” A beep.

“Bye, Omi. Cya soon.”

#sakuatsu #oneshot #haikyuu #unedited #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #angst #idk what i'm doing honestly #but i'm kind of proud of this ngl #maybe i should do this more often #or maybe it will never happen again #good luck trying to figure it out #haha ty for reading <3 #Spotify

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honey-harper-official · 4 years

Text

Meet Me in the Middle Chapter 5

Meet Me in the Middle Chapter 4

Word count: 1884

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

All week, after classes and homework were finished, Rosetta and her friends headed to the studio room that they had taken for the next two hours. She was making her last music video for her EP and it was all hands on deck. They had done this last year when Kiki and Beck released their band's first EP and some songs and Lana, who was a film student, had gladly offered to help film and edit for them, doing the same for Rosetta now.

Everyone was pitching in their skills with Kiki finding every prop or costume needed and Ellie helping sew and finish off any costumes. Meg, who was a dancer, helped with choreography, though for this video there wasn't much, and Kiki and Beck helped with sound and helped play instrument for when they put all the audio together.

They were nearly done with filming, just needing one last scene before they could put it all together and upload it to Rosetta's YouTube. She wasn't worried about anyone she didn't want finding it discovering it as those people didn't exactly use YouTube for what she was uploading. She had never been so glad that she was at war with a conservative boy who thought social media was the Devil's work. Jack really was something.

Currently, Ellie, who had let herself be in the music video, was wearing a giant, fluffy, cotton candy pink dress. Her nails were painted a shimmery pink and all the makeup on her was shiny and a peach color. Her hair was down in loose waves and she had heart shaped lollipop earrings on. Rosetta would admit, it's exactly how she pictured the other person in the video looking like mainly because it was a song based off her pinning for Ellie, one she had made when they had their fling but never showed her.

Rosetta herself was dressed up, wearing high wasted dress pants, a tank-top, and then a thin button up that was half opened over top, tucked into the pants, all of it in pink and white. Her hair was left down with little candy shaped clips scattered through her curls. She also had glossy pink makeup to go along.

The set was a candy shop with the stereotypical red and white striped with black and white checkered tile everywhere. There was a little stage in the back of the shop with a 50s era microphone in it and two giant lollipops crossed over each other and hung on the wall.

"Okay Ellie move a little more to the left. I need you centered on the X," Lana instructed.

She slid down the stage and Rosetta did too, her head on her lap.

They just had to record the last refrain of the chorus.

"Okay now Beck turn out the main lights, Kiki shut the blinds, and Meg I need you to turn on the show lighting," Lana directed.

All of them did as they were told. The show lighting flickered on as the rest of the room went black.

"And go," Lana said.

So Rosetta sang the last refrain of the chorus. She did it several times to make sure that they got what they needed. And even though it was only a few lines she needed to sing, it still took forever to get done and she was sweating by the end of it though Ellie was too, the stage lights pounding on them.

However, by the end of next week, Rosetta and Lana would have finished editing the video and they would post it.

"And that everyone, is a wrap," Lana said, putting the hard drive and camera away as they packed up.

"Now we can focus on prepping for the music showcase," Beck laughed.

Tomorrow night, for the seniors, was the Starter Showcase. It was always a week before break and the Snowball dance which was the Friday closest to the winter break. There was always two showcases a year for each grade.

Rosetta had written the showcase down on the calendar. She was hoping that her family would come as she had been talking about it for a while. The first two years at school she had never told her parents anything about it as she didn't want people to know about her family but after the news got out at the end of her junior year last year, right before the Ending Showcase, she had asked them to come. It seemed, thankfully, that no one cared who her parents were after a week and people never asked her any questions about it like they had in middle school.

It allowed her to be more open at school though, there were still some things she didn't tell anyone.

But she was giving her parents something she liked and she was just hoping it didn't get ruined.

They all then went back to their dorms, Lana giving Rosetta the footage to edit on her laptop. It wasn't necessarily late, but it was 6 at night and dinner in the cafeteria would be starting soon and Rosetta wanted to shower before she ate.

She put her hair in a shower cap and turned on the water. The bathroom was right off of their room on "Rosetta's" side of the room and she didn't really mind Beck coming in to wash his hands as she got in.

Most people would assume that it was weird but it wasn't like anything was going to happen between them. Rosetta was gay and in love with Ellie while Beck was the straightest person alive and was in love with Kiki who he wanted to date.

That and they had known each other so long that they were like siblings and personal boundaries didn't exist between them.

Rosetta scrubbed her body down quickly before drying off and putting on pajamas, taking off the shower cap and hanging it up. She grabbed her bag and put on flip flops and went out the door.

Kids were crowded in the cafeteria, some in line and some at tables. She saw Kiki, Ellie, and Beck all together at the table they and their friends shared. Additionally, as much as Rosetta hated it, James was sitting with Ellie. Occasionally he tagged a long and every time Rosetta either ignored him or didn't join. Everyone knew she didn't like him, including Ellie but they didn't seem bothered by it.

Lana and Meg beckoned her over to the line, a tray and silverware ready for her. She ran to them and joined.

"You better not be mean to James. He has done nothing to you and you can't be mean to him because you're jealous," Meg said immediately.

"I'm trying," Rosetta insisted.

It was true. She felt bad about hating him. He was nice and she was just jealous. It wasn't her fault though. She didn't control her emotions as much as she tried and she was honestly doing her best to get over Ellie. The problem was that she saw her every day and that made it difficult but she didn't want to ice Ellie out either. There was no good option and Rosetta loathed it entirely.

"We know Rose but you really suck at hiding it," Lana laughed, putting chicken nuggets on her plate.

"I'm just saying his vibes are off. I don't think he's straight," Rosetta pointed out.

"Bisexual and pansexual and other sexualities besides gay and straight exist," Meg said nonchalantly.

"I'm well aware. But I still don't think that's it."

Changing the subject swiftly, Lana held up one of her nuggets. "Look they're dinosaur shaped!" She giggled, making Meg and Rosetta laugh as well. She had a bubbly personality and was good at making others happy and changing the subject which was very much needed at the moment.

Rosetta also went for the dino nuggets as well as a roll. She loved the rolls the cafeteria had. They were always warm and melted in her mouth.

"Both of you get a salad or something. You need fruits and veggies," Meg reminded, like always.

Lana and Rosetta looked at each other and rolled their eyes but listened anyways, Lana grabbing roasted vegetables and Rosetta going to the salad bar. They all met up at the table, Rosetta sitting quietly and minding her business in between Beck and Kiki, across from Lana.

She didn't engage in much conversation, afraid she'd say something mean to James and everyone would get mad at her. She didn't really need that at the moment. The only thing she did was let Kiki toss food in her and Beck's mouth to add to the competition.

Rosetta's phone then buzzed. It was an update from her musical performance class.

Miss Calice: Reminder; Some of you may have to come on the weekend to help clean up the Showcase for your credits. Check the list tomorrow morning to see if you are on it.

Not knowing if she completed all her needed credits for assistance, as they had to help out a certain amount from helping around school to pass, Rosetta decided to call her parents just in case. Sometimes they would miss text messages so as annoying as it was, it was safer to call them.

Her dad picked up right away.

"What do you need sweetheart? Is everything okay at school?" He asked.

"Yeah everything's fine. I just thought you should know that I might not come home with you after the Showcase on Friday because of clean up," She explained.

"The Showcase? That's next Friday right?"

"No it's this Friday as in tomorrow night," Rosetta said, heart already starting to sink. By the tone of his voice she could tell that she was going to be let down.

"What time?"

"6."

"I'm sorry sweetie. Your mom and I promised that we'd be there for Eva's game. It's the last one of the season," Adrian told her.

"Oh," Rosetta said, a little disappointed. "Oh okay. That's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," she said, doing her best to sound as happy as possible even though she was upset by the news.

They may have promised to be there for Eva's game but they had also promised to be at the Ending Showcase last year and missed it. They said they would be there for this one and she even put it on the calendar. She hadn't shut up about it. Rosetta couldn't believe that they had forgotten.

"Thank you for understand pumpkin. Tell us if you have to stay over the weekend. I love you."

"I love you too."

She ended the call and then texted Valerie.

Me: Are you coming to the showcase tomorrow? It's at 6.

Val: Can't. I have work. Sorry, Maybe next time. :(

Rosetta turned off her phone and made a frustrated growl, shoving it in her bag trying not to cry. All of her friends turned to her but she got up before they could do anything, putting her things in the wash bin.

She came back and grabbed her bag.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asked.

"They can't come," She said, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "I don't even know why I got my hopes up."

She turned on her heel and left before they could ask anymore.

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

Rosetta:

#nevada fanfiction #renegades #renegades trilogy #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #my oc #nodrian #osby #tuckva #danissa #danna bell #narcissa cronin #nova artino #adrian everhart #ruby tucker #oscar silva #rosetta mclain #rosetta must be protected at all costs but im still going to cause her problems

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cruelangelstheses · 4 years

Text

blue neighborhood - chapter 1: WILD

fandom: avatar: the last airbender rating: T characters: sokka/zuko words (total): 1.8k words (this chapter): 1.8k additional tags: modern au (no bending), high school, college, time skips, childhood friends, friends to lovers, slow burn, (internalized) homophobia, implied/referenced child abuse, fluff and angst, angst with a happy ending description: for zuko and sokka, the line between best friends and lovers has been blurred for a long time. a/n: hello!!! posting this just in time for @zukka-week (specifically day 4: free day, since it doesn’t really fit into any of the other prompts, though i guess this fic will also focus on pain and healing a lot so it could count for that too), but i’ve had this idea in my head literally since blue neighborhood came out. i don't even listen to troye much anymore but i needed this to be a thing. each chapter is inspired by a different song off the deluxe edition of BN, going in order of the track list, and they’re sort of out of order because they’re all little vignettes/“glimpses” into zuko and sokka’s relationship at different points in time! the first chapter is the beginning though, and the last chapter is the end (it’ll make more sense as you read each chapter). warnings are in the additional tags. ty for reading! :3

read it on ao3

—

“Hey, Zuko! Look what Gran-Gran got for me!”

Zuko, nine years old, sticks his head out the window of his bedroom and glances down at his neighbor Sokka, who stands eagerly in Zuko’s backyard one Saturday morning with his hands behind his back. “Okay,” he says slowly. “What is it?”

“Guess!” Sokka replies with a grin.

Zuko groans a little. “Sokka, you know I’m bad at guessing, and you always just tell me what it is anyway.”

“Just try!” Sokka insists.

Zuko sighs and thinks for a moment. He’s always one to let go of his stubbornness for Sokka. “Um...candy?”

“No!” Sokka says. “It’s not something you can eat. It’s something you can play with!”

Zuko shrugs. “A ball?”

Sokka shakes his head. “Nope.” With that, he reveals the toy he’s been hiding behind his back. “It’s a boomerang! Wanna try it out with me?”

Zuko bites his lip. “I dunno. My dad’s home. He might not let me.”

“Just ask him,” Sokka says, matter-of-fact.

Zuko doesn’t want to explain why that plan isn’t always as simple as it sounds, but he really does want to play outside with Sokka. Pulling his dark hair up into a ponytail, he runs downstairs, where he finds both his parents eating breakfast in the kitchen. Neither of them are speaking, but Zuko ignores the tension between them. He’s more concerned with his own desires, and besides, they’re always like this.

“Can I go play outside with Sokka?” he asks.

Ozai raises a disapproving eyebrow. “You really should be making friends with more civilized children.”

“Well—I, um…” Zuko stutters nervously. He still doesn’t really understand why his father always makes such rude comments about Sokka and his family. They’ve never been anything but kind to Zuko. “It’s only for a little while. We’re gonna practice throwing his new boomerang.”

Ozai exchanges glances with Ursa, who turns to Zuko with sympathetic eyes and says, “Yes, of course.”

Ozai looks like he wants to protest, but he seems to be preoccupied with whatever problem he and Ursa are having, so he simply sighs and adds, “Be back in no more than two hours.”

“Great, thanks,” Zuko says hurriedly, and without another moment’s hesitation, he sprints outside, where his best friend is waiting for him.

—

On a perfectly average day as they’re walking home from school, a twelve-year-old Sokka asks, “So, have you ever kissed anyone?”

Zuko, now thirteen, stops in his tracks, caught completely off-guard. “I—what? Why?” His voice is high-pitched and cracked, and he glances over at his house nearby. If he doesn’t get home soon, his father might wonder where he is.

Sokka shrugs. “I was just thinking, ‘cause I overheard Jet bragging about his first kiss in the hall today.”

“Well, that’s Jet for you,” Zuko replies dismissively. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, you two are the same age, so I thought maybe you’d had yours, too.”

“Age has nothing to do with it,” Zuko says, trying not to let his embarrassment show. “What, you think as soon as someone reaches eighth grade they have to have their first kiss?”

“Hey, it was just a question,” Sokka says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I was just thinking that you could help me.”

If Zuko thought he was embarrassed before, now he’s absolutely mortified. Feeling his cheeks turn bright red, he stutters, “You—what?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m a bad kisser!” Sokka says, crossing his arms and leaning against a neighbor’s fence. “So I thought maybe you could teach me. Give me some pointers. Then when I have my first kiss, I’ll be ready!”

Zuko just stares at him for a few short moments, stunned and confused and unable to think clearly. Finally he says, “H-how am I supposed to teach you how to do something I’ve never done myself?”

“I don’t know.” For a split second, Sokka looks almost dejected. Then another idea seems to hit him, and his face lights up once again. “Well, we could practice together!”

He says it with a great deal of confidence, but Zuko can tell that he’s nervous by the way he deliberately avoids making eye contact. Stupidly, Zuko asks, “What do you mean, ‘practice?’”

Now it’s Sokka’s turn on the embarrassment train. “Well, I mean—it’d be like—well.” He clears his throat to give himself more time to collect his thoughts. Then he says, “You know exactly what I mean, Zuko.”

He’s right, too. Zuko does know.

“Well,” Zuko says slowly, still blushing furiously, “if we…do that, then wouldn’t that be your first kiss right there?”

“No! It doesn’t count if it’s just practice. Duh.” He rolls his eyes, as if this should be obvious. “Besides, then you can get better at kissing, too!”

Zuko takes another brief glance over at his house. It’s only a few doors away from where they’re standing, on the sidewalk in front of a neighbor’s place, Sokka still leaning against the fence. The area is mostly shaded by the small trees that populate the neighborhood, their leaves red and orange and preparing to fall from the branches. Not a single car passes by, nor does Zuko see anyone outside. Even in the late afternoon sun, it almost feels as though they’re completely alone, isolated from the rest of the world. No one would see. No one would care.

“Sokka…” Zuko starts, his voice quieter now as he dares to truly let himself look at his best friend. The early autumn breeze blows some of Sokka’s stray hairs into his face, cutting across his bright blue eyes. He bites his lip and attempts to fix his ponytail, but he pauses mid-motion when he notices Zuko staring.

“What?” he says, seeming genuinely confused. His eyes are wide with curiosity as he looks up at Zuko, his arms still lifted above his head. Zuko knows he should turn away, but Sokka’s raised eyebrows wear him down. He knows he shouldn’t do it, but when Sokka looks like that...well, how could he not want to break the rules?

Zuko’s friends and family always tell him how impulsive he is, how he never thinks things through, how he takes life on with a “shoot first, ask questions later” attitude. Until this moment, though, he never realized how right they were.

Without thinking, his mind nothing but white noise, Zuko leans forward and kisses Sokka right on the mouth. His lips are surprisingly soft, his breath warm, and it kind of feels weird, but not bad weird; perhaps “unfamiliar” is a better word. Sokka doesn’t react immediately, and Zuko starts to panic, but just as he’s about to pull away, Sokka grabs him by his shirt and kisses him back. It all happens in a matter of seconds, simple and sweet and innocent, but it’s enough to make Zuko’s heart pound hard in his chest.

Now Sokka’s face is bright red, but he still tries to maintain the illusion of composure. “See?” he says, voice cracking. “That was good! That was great! So…now we both know.” He flashes Zuko a quick grin, but it’s not enough to hide the blush or the breathlessness. “Well, uh, we should probably be getting home,” he adds, pointing in the general direction of his own house. “See ya!”

Before Zuko even has a chance to say anything, Sokka turns and rushes down the sidewalk, only looking back once. For a few moments, Zuko just stands there staring after him, trying to process what the hell just happened. Then he remembers his father and the time, so he runs the rest of the way to his house, unaware that it’s the last time the sun will see his face unblemished.

—

“When I get older, I wanna leave this place.”

They’re both lying on Sokka’s bed when he says this, his arms behind his head and his gaze trained on the ceiling, a look of wistful contemplation on his face. Zuko turns from his stomach onto his side and rests his head in his hand. “No kidding,” he says with a sigh.

“I’d love to travel,” Sokka adds, smiling a little. “Imagine it: just you and me on our own little road trip across the country, blasting shitty ‘80s music and buying snacks at half-abandoned rest stops.”

Zuko snorts. “Ah, yes. The picture of luxury: Doritos and ‘Take On Me.’”

Sokka shrugs. “I mean, that’s pretty much all I’d need to be happy. That and you.” He says it so nonchalantly that Zuko doubts his own hearing ability for a brief moment.

“Sometimes I feel guilty for wanting to leave,” Sokka continues, sitting up and frowning. “Of course I’d miss my family, my friends. But I feel so trapped sometimes, you know? Like I’m stuck here.”

Zuko nods. He knows exactly what Sokka means. Their town holds so many memories—some happy, many not—but sometimes it feels like there’s a cloud constantly hanging over it. Or perhaps it’s just that the cloud is constantly hanging over him. Sometimes it feels like that, too.

“I mean,” Sokka says slowly, “you have a perfectly valid reason to want to leave. If I were you, I’d probably try to get as far away from here as possible.”

Zuko still doesn’t say anything. Ever since that day nearly a year ago, the day his father scarred him and kicked him out of the house, he’s been searching for a way to redeem himself. His uncle tells him sometimes that he doesn’t need Ozai’s approval, but Zuko never listens. He understands why Sokka would think he’d want to leave and never see his father again, but that’s exactly why he can’t bring himself to. If he left, his father would think he was running away from his problems.

Zuko’s never been the type to run away.

Sokka gives him a hard, knowing stare, as if he can tell what Zuko is thinking about just by looking at him. He probably can. “Zuko,” he says, his gaze flitting very briefly to the left side of Zuko’s face.

Zuko turns away, trying in vain to block out the memory of their lips touching underneath an autumn sky, naive enough to think that the trees would keep them out of sight. It doesn’t matter that he enjoyed it, and it doesn’t matter that part of him wishes it would happen again. He kissed his best friend—he kissed a boy—and he paid the price for it.

“Well,” Zuko says finally, glancing back over at Sokka with a faint smile, “one day we’ll get out of here. I promise.”

#zukka #zuko x sokka #zuko #sokka #zukkaweek #avatar: the last airbender #atla #my fics

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noona-clock · 5 years

Text

Expectations - Part 3

Genre: College/Roommates!AU – Pure Fluff

Pairing: Hanbin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 1,957

With Phase One of Operation Best Friend Roomie complete (and Phase Two now scrapped, obviously), you were working on Phase Three: Getting closer.

You knew the basics about Hanbin, and he knew the basics about you, but now it was time to spend as much time together as you could and really get to know each other.

The two of you had spent the rest of that evening playing some rounds of Uno -- because what brings two people together better than a competitive card game, right?

And, boy, was Hanbin competitive.

He didn’t even seem like he was that competitive at first; he was a bit more on the serious side, but you figured he just took the game seriously and wanted to play to the best of his ability.

But when you won the first round? He was quick to suggest another one, that’s for sure.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately, picking up the deck of cards and shuffling them intently. The look in his eyes was... just a little bit scary.

So, you accepted his offer without hesitation.

You didn’t let him win, per se, but... you definitely didn’t try your hardest to beat him. And when you lost not just the second but the third round, you sure as heck didn’t complain too loudly.

“How about a movie?” you asked as Hanbin reshuffled the Uno cards before sliding them back into the box. “Unless you have stuff to do. I don’t want to --”

“Yeah, a movie sounds great,” he murmured, one corner of his lips lifting into a very cute smile.

“Oh, yay!” you exclaimed. You put a hand on the coffee table and pushed yourself up from your seated position on the floor, letting out a soft groan of effort. “Do you want popcorn?”

“What’s a movie without popcorn?” Hanbin replied with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Exactly.”

Within ten minutes, the two of you were lazing on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn in-between you. The opening to a popular romantic comedy was playing, and quite to your surprise, the title had been Hanbin’s choice.

“You want to watch this?” you had asked just to be sure, holding up the DVD case.

“Yeah,” Hanbin had replied with pinkened cheeks and a bashful smile. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a sucker for love stories.”

Of course, you had been secretly thrilled that he’d told you something he didn’t want anyone else to know. It obviously meant you guys were well on your way to becoming best friend roommates!

Within the first five minutes of the movie, Hanbin was reciting some of the lines along with the characters. You almost choked on a popcorn kernel, and you whipped your head around to stare at him in amused disbelief.

“What?” he chuckled, and you could see his cheeks getting pinker by the second. “I told you, I like this movie!”

It turned out to be quite the experience, watching this romantic comedy with Hanbin. You realized you had never actually watched a movie like this with a guy friend before, and... it was really nice. There was no tension or pressure to cuddle or makeout or anything like that. You could simply enjoy your popcorn and enjoy the cheesy fluff in the film. And enjoy spending time with your roommate.

As the movie was ending, as the two main characters were finally getting together once and for all -- it dawned on you.

Before you’d known Hanbin was your roommate, back when you’d expected he would be a she, you’d imagined the both of you eating dinner together and watching romantic comedies together and sharing secrets together.

When Hanbin had walked through your door, those expectations had immediately laughed in your face and then peaced out.

But... all of your imaginings had just come true. All of that had just happened.

You and Hanbin had eaten dinner together. You were watching a romantic comedy together. Hanbin had even shared a secret (even if it wasn’t anything truly exciting).

“Why are you smiling?” Hanbin asked with a soft chuckle as he pushed himself off the couch to go and eject the DVD.

“Hmm?” you hummed, snapping out of your little trance. “Oh, I -- nothing, I just love the ending of that movie.”

Fortunately, he didn’t catch the pretty obvious tone of falsehood in your voice, and he simply crouched down to press the button to open the DVD player.

You grabbed the case, holding out your hand and gingerly taking the disc when Hanbin handed it to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“No, thank you,” Hanbin replied, making you pause for a brief moment.

“Thank me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Thank you for dinner and for letting me know you wanted to be friends. Honestly, I was thinking you weren’t that happy about having a guy for a roommate. My mind wasn’t even on the friendship wavelength. But I’m glad yours was. I really do want to be friends, too.”

Your heart had, apparently, grown wings and was now fluttering around inside your chest. You’d never been so happy to hear a guy tell you he really wanted to be friends with you.

For once, you were well and truly content -- excited, even -- to be friend-zoned.

You spent the next day, Sunday, preparing for the first week of classes. You drew out a map of all the buildings you’d be in and which routes you needed to take to get from one class to another. You visited your professors’ webpages to see if they’d posted a syllabus yet, and when you found one, you got straight to work reading the first chapter of your textbook.

You made lists upon lists, wanting to make sure you had all of your books, school supplies, food, and outfits prepared for the first week.

...And this was why you’d been the editor-in-chief of your high school newspaper and class president. You knew how to organize.

By the time Hanbin woke up, you hadn’t even realized it was that late in the day.

“Morning!” you called out to him from in your bedroom, your eyes still focused on your ‘First Week of School Outfits’ list.

“Hey, morn --” Hanbin began, but he froze when he passed by your door. You heard him shuffle towards you, and he poked his head in your doorway. “What happened in here?”

“Hmm?” You lifted your head to look at him and saw he was staring, wide-eyed, at the papers and books strewn about your room. “Oh! Preparing for this week.”

“...Preparing? What?” he chuckled.

“Preparing... for class,” you replied with a little smirk.

“...You don’t just, like, show up?”

“No!” you laughed. “I prepare within an inch of my life. It makes me feel better if I’m going into a situation I’ve never experienced before.”

Hanbin nodded slowly, looking increasingly bemused. “Got it.”

You shot him a beaming smile before he turned and headed back to the kitchen to make his usual sandwich.

“How did you sleep?” you called out as you heard him open the fridge.

“Fine, I guess,” he answered. “You?”

“Not bad! What did you do after I went to bed?”

“Just worked on a song,” he told you.

“You wouldn’t classify that as preparing for your classes?” you asked with a cheeky grin. Hanbin was a music major, so you were fairly certain he would have to write and compose some songs for school.

“No,” he chuckled.

“All right, if you say so,” you smirked to yourself before focusing your attention back on your list.

Hanbin took his time eating his sandwich, and you took your time going through your closet and seeing which shirts, skirts, and pants needed to be ironed. You’d figured out it was more time-efficient to pick out your outfits for the whole week so you wouldn’t waste time standing in front of your closet every morning.

You’d gotten a lot of ironing done this past week, but there was still one plaid button-up you thought looked a bit rumpled. You wanted to wear it on Wednesday, so you grabbed your mini-ironing board, your iron, and the shirt before heading out into the kitchen to iron on the table.

Just as you finished pressing the collar of your shirt, Hanbin re-emerged from his room. You glanced up, noticing he was carrying his laptop.

“Come over here when you’re done with that,” he said as he perched on the couch and slid his computer onto the coffee table.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmured. You deftly ironed the cuffs and edges of your shirt before unplugging the iron and carrying everything back into your room.

A soft groan escaped your lips when you plopped down next to Hanbin. You raised your eyebrows expectantly and said, “What’s up?”

Within seconds, Hanbin’s cheeks turned pink.

“I, uh...” he murmured, barely looking at you. “I wanted to play you my song. The one I’ve been working on.”

Your eyes widened, and you had to bite your lip to suppress a giddy smile. “Really?” you asked somewhat breathlessly.

Hanbin nodded. “If you want to.”

“Of course!”

You watched eagerly as he leaned over and opened up a music editing software. A file was already up, and Hanbin hesitated just slightly before clicking the Play button.

When music started playing through the speaker, you instantly noticed it was very upbeat. The melody was quick and light, and you couldn’t stop yourself from tapping your foot and nodding your head along to it.

But when the lyrics started, when Hanbin’s voice began to sing...

Your eyes widened.

Holy moly. These lyrics were... intense.

You listened intently, your brow furrowing as Hanbin sang about a relationship which had ended -- a ‘love scenario’ as he called it.

To be honest, the lyrics were so sad that you almost wanted to cry. And you wanted to hug Hanbin so tightly that any negative emotions would just squeeze right out of him.

When the final notes echoed through your living room, you let out a soft exhale before turning to your roommate.

“Wow,” you breathed. “That was really good.”

“Yeah?” Hanbin blushed, barely meeting your eye.

“Yeah! Is that the kind of song you typically make?” you asked curiously.

Hanbin lifted one shoulder into a bashful shrug and closed the lid of his laptop. “It depends, I guess. I feel like I’ve written all types of songs. This is just what I was feeling lately.”

“I loved it,” you assured him with a wide grin. “You’re really talented.”

“Thank you,” he murmured shyly, and you honestly wanted to reach over and pinch his cheeks because he just looked so adorable right now. “So, we’re officially friends now.”

“I think so,” you chuckled.

“You’ve cooked me dinner, and I’ve played you one of my songs.”

“Perfect,” you nodded. “And now we just have to get through the first week of classes alive.”

Hanbin let out a sigh and leaned back against the couch, lifting his legs and crossing his ankles over each other on top of the coffee table. “How about another movie night? Celebrate the end of summer?”

“Ooh, yeah,” you enthused, clapping your hands together softly.

“How about that movie you’ve been watching? The one my sister likes?”

You paused, furrowing your brow and looking at him with slight suspicion. “...Really? You want to watch it?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

...I mean. You weren’t going to ask twice.

You hopped off the couch, retrieved the DVD, put it in the player, and practically leaped back over to the couch to get comfortable.

So. Phase Three: Getting Closer seemed to be officially completed. And, you were willing to say, quite successful.

Part 4

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space-girlll · 5 years

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I’ll Make It Up To You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1337

Warnings: Angst to fluff; amateur writing

A/N: This is my first writing piece I decided to write for tumblr, and honestly, I’m v scare, but i would appreciate feedback! Thank you @autumnlyholland for helping me edit this, I love you and don’t deserve you <3

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Tonight was supposed to be the best night of Y/N’s life. She had her hair done in a nice, neat updo and was wearing a dress she could only dream of. It was almost completely perfect, but there was one thing missing. Peter Benjamin Parker. He was nowhere to be found, and the longer she waited, the more it seemed he would never show up. Y/N remembered the day he asked her like it was yesterday.

Y/N began packing up her stuff, ready to go home after a long school day. She had at least six new assignments, on top of her five already assigned. She was definitely glad to nearly be done with her last year of high school. As she headed for her car, Ned stopped her. “Hey Y/N, Peter is looking for you. He asked me to have you meet him in the gym?”

“What? Why the gym? Can’t he just meet me at my house?” Y/N rubbed her eyes tiredly. She loved her boyfriend dearly, but she needed a hot bath and a long nap.

“He said it was really important…” Y/N groaned and headed back into the school. Her backpack hung lazily over her shoulder, and Y/N threw it onto the ground outside of the darkened gym. She stepped into the dimmed gym, calling out.

“Peter? Are you in here?” Music played over the speakers, a soft song that Y/N and Peter danced to all too often. She smiled softly, stepping into the room. As she did, the lights turned on, and there Peter was, holding flowers and standing underneath a string of webs that read, in all caps, “PROM?”

Y/N covered her mouth in shock, feeling her grin grow about six times its original size. She ran over to him, hugging him tightly. Peter smiled and held her close to himself. “So… is this a yes?”

Y/N laughed happily, pulling back from the hug. “How could I ever say no to you?”

‘Where are you Peter?’ Y/N felt tears slip slowly down her face, and quickly wiped them away. There was an explanation for all of this. There had to be. Surely he was just running late. That was pretty typical of Peter.

After about an hour and a half and plenty of pitiful reassurance from her mother, Y/N headed upstairs to her room, not resisting the tears anymore. She felt nothing but sadness and regret. She almost wished she had never said yes to Peter, and she never should’ve expected him to be on time or to even show up at all. And as Y/N sat there wallowing in self pity, a knock came from her window.

Y/N got up, and saw an injured, saddened Peter Parker standing out in the pouring rain. She opened the window and ushered him inside, examining her injured boyfriend. “Peter, oh my god, what happened to you?” She took his arm and led him to the bed.

Peter was letting out soft and pained whimpers as he sat down, holding his side lightly. “Jus’ a stupid battle with some bad guys… Don’ worry about me Y/N…” He closed his eyes slightly, leaning on her slumped shoulders.

“Hon, you’re not okay…” Y/N sighed slightly. “Let me go grab the first aid kit, okay?” She pushed away for a moment, her heart still stinging a bit, and went to grab the first aid kit. When Y/N was gone, Peter leaned back onto her bed and nearly fell asleep. He wanted nothing more than to take a moment and relax. His head was pounding, he had never felt more sore in his life, and despite his enhanced healing, he felt like the pain would never end. Listening to the sounds of her shuffling in the bathroom, Peter felt as though Y/N could help him overcome quite possibly anything. She was brave and beautiful and resilient and… upset? As Peter reexamined her face, he noticed how Y/N’s lips curved down just slightly and her eyebrows furrowed gently. She had clearly just been crying, and she had mascara running down her cheeks. Why was she upset?

“I promise I’m okay Y/N. don’t worry about me-”

“Shut up for two minutes and let me take care of you, Peter.” Y/N got to work, cleaning and bandaging cuts, and icing bruises. She never ceased looking upset, and Peter couldn’t figure out why.

Until he saw a large, elegant dress in the corner.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry Y/N… I got so caught up in taking care of the bad guys I completely forgot…” Peter reached up to touch Y/N’s face gently, but she pulled away with a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t worry about it Peter. It was only our senior prom. I’m over it.” Y/N put the supplies away hurriedly before laying back on the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. “You can stay here until you feel better. Then, you might want to go home to May.” She rolled away from him so her back was to Peter.

Peter let out a gentle sigh, before placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you, Y/N… I promise.”

Y/N laid in her bed, scrolling through her instagram to pass the time. She had nothing better to do until dinner, and she had even already finished all her homework. She was mostly focusing on not thinking about prom. But despite her efforts, everyone seemed to be posting nonstop, and it was impossible to avoid the content.. ‘Oh how lucky you must be…’ Y/N thought in spite. Interrupting her angry thoughts was the last person she wanted to see, stepping into her room. Y/N sat up, glancing at her boyfriend. “What are you doing here, Peter?”

“I promised you I would make it up to you, didn’t I?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Prom. I said I would make it up to you.” Y/N glanced at what he wore, which she now realized was a tuxedo that matched her own dress. “Get up and get dressed! We’ve got a date.” With that, he marched out of her room and waited by her door.

Y/N didn’t know what to think, but she still put on her prom dress, and threw her hair up loosely, before meeting Peter outside her door.

With a somewhat cocky smirk, Peter pulled her downstairs to her basement, which had been redecorated to fit exactly the theme of her school’s prom, Fairytale. Y/N glanced around, love and wonder for Peter flooding her heart as she took in the beautiful sight. Fairy string lights hung from the ceiling, tangling themselves with fairytale style vines, a miniature palace sat in the corner, and music played softly throughout the basement. Peter gently placed a tiara on her head, which matched the crown on his own.

Somewhat goofily, he bowed in front of her, offering his hand. “M’lady… May I have this dance?”

Y/N giggled and curtsied, taking his hand in response. “You may!” Peter pulled her to his chest, taking her into a slow dance. Y/N rested one hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. She rested her head on his chest, feeling a bit more at peace with her life. “Thank you Peter… This really means a lot to me…”

“Of course sweetheart. And I am so sorry for forgetting. I wish I could go back in time and take it all back-”

“But you can’t,” Y/N interrupted, “and that’s alright. You’re the most amazing person I know, and while you’re not perfect, you are compassionate and clever. And I’m grateful for that every single day Pete.” She smiled up at him, letting him kiss her for the first time in weeks. It had been a while since Y/N had felt this calm, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

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Tags! @autumnlyholland @angelsparkers @audreylovespidey706

#Im so excited to build up my fics #someone help me make a masterlist page soon #yall are not ready for my mind #wow that sounded cocky im sorry #peter parker x reader #fluff #angst #angst to fluff #Y/N #Peter Parker

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zephyrthejester · 4 years

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Three Years Blog Anniversary!

Well, would you look at that. In the blink of an eye, an entire year has gone by! It has now been a grand total of three years since I started up this liveblog, and ever since, it's been a whirlwind of an adventure that has introduced me to amazing shows, amazing games, and above all, amazing people! As has become tradition, it's time for us to gather 'round by the fire, bundle up in blankets, sip some hot cocoa, and reminisce about the shenanigans we got up to in the year 2019.

You know the drill! Click "Keep Reading" to see the rest! Let's go!

January kicked off with the closing episodes to Steven Universe's fifth season, and what a finale it was! In true SU nature, it managed to be wholesome, funny, terrifying, and sad all at once! Not to mention the finale episode specifically, which was rife with both fan service and a breath-taking final confrontation. It even prompted me to type up three whole Addendum posts just so I could get all my thoughts out there. Intermingling with these episodes were some rather poignant and touching episodes of RWBY's 6th Volume, which saw some great plot advancements for some of my favorite characters. And of course, there was one liveblog session early on dedicated to Fate/Stay Night, a series I began back in 2018. And that would end up being the last I'd liveblog about it. Following the technical difficulties of the Visual Novel crashing at an important moment, I lost much of my motivation to keep going at it, putting Fate/Stay Night on the bench... For now. But more on Fate/Stay Night later.

Then came February! Where I proceeded to do absolutely nothing at all. For 42 days, I fell into a pretty bad funk that I called depression, at the time. Well! I must be in a better mental space right now, because until it came time to make this post, I forgot all about it! Moving past the shame I felt for wordlessly abandoning my blog and discord community for over a month, come March I pressed right into a brand new liveblog: Kill la Kill! A frenetic, frantic, freaky series that serves as the spiritual sequel to what was, once upon a time, my favorite anime ever: Gurren Lagann. I was immediately charmed by it's absurdist humor and over-the-top everything. However, it wasn't long before I succumbed to my greatest flaw. I'm exceptionally picky about what I liveblog, and sadly, Kill la Kill didn't tick the boxes that needed to be ticked for me to stick with it. I eventually dropped the series after only three episodes.

Needless to say, I was getting desperate to reinvigorate my lost momentum. It was then and there, at the tail end of March, that I introduced the most significant change to my brand ever: Liveblogging itself was being benched in favor of a fanciful second attempt at running my video game focused Youtube Channel! While I would certainly continue to liveblog new episodes of shows I had previously caught up with, my efforts would be redoubled and focused upon something I hoped would shake things up for me. I put in the effort of buying a new, fancy, high-tech microphone, and set about to new projects!

First up was a tense and troublesome self-imposed-challenge: A playthrough of Resident Evil 2 Remake on its hardest difficulty, with the added stipulation that I can never access the item storage box! My knowledge and skills of that game were put to the test as I skirted by the dangerous zombies and mutants while carrying only the bare essentials on my person. That series lasted 7 videos, plus a Highlight Reel, over about a week. My new microphone really brought out my screams of terror. Yes.

Immediately following the conclusion of the REmake 2 challenge run in early April, a new series debuted: A blind let's play of Subnautica! A simply incredible sci-fi survival game set on a planet that's nearly entirely an ocean... But much to my surprise, it was secretly a horror game all along. Spanning 18 episodes + a highlight reel between April 5th and May 23rd, we descended ever deeper into the abyss, deciphered alien riddles, fled from toothy leviathan-class predators, established a lovely home base, and had a great ol' time overall. A truly remarkable game with a surprisingly good story, for its genre, and it left me eagerly looking forward to making a Let's Play of its sequel: Below Zero.

Simultaneously, beginning on April 10th, I embarked upon yet another adventure that was of such a large scope, I made my channel's primary time slot dedicated to it. The Phoenix Wright Trilogy! A collection of the first three Visual Novels in a wonderful, wonderful series about the titular attorney at law. It wasn't long before I fell in love with this series, big time. It had everything! Immensely satisfying mysteries for me to solve, memorable and lovable characters, great pacing, and it knew how to keep things fresh and interesting. Although I started out the Let's Play by saying I wouldn't read everything aloud, that proved to be a lie. As of now, the series is a whopping 78 videos long (I do expect it to reach 100 before all is said and done), and I have given voice to roughly 50 unique characters so far. The series really helped awaken my Let's Play chops by improving my speech, vocal clarity, and focus. Swapping between my first video ever (for Legend of Grimrock II) and the most recent Phoenix Wright video is a real night-and-day difference! Overall, it's very safe to say that the series has stolen my heart. Unmatched hype, dizzying plot twists, and delightful shenanigans burst from the seams, truly. The Let's Play is currently ongoing, though the end is within sight...

As the Let's Plays of Subnautica and Phoenix Wright Trilogy progressed, so too did the production quality of my videos. I got a better grip on editing, improving the design of my video thumbnails and taking more care to edit out needless and dull moments of gameplay. I even introduced a brief and stylish video intro, which was my avatar appearing over a dark background before it faded off into gameplay. That would be the image up above! However, as we move into 2020, I’ve begun to feel that it could do with a slight improvement... Wink wink!

Following the end of Subnautica came a new Let's Play involving yet another sci-fi horror game: Prey! Spanning 25 videos + a highlight reel between June 3rd and November 19th, it immediately gripped me with its stunning attention to detail, marvelously crafted environments, and boundlessly creative gameplay. It was a pleasure to explore the varied regions of the Talos One space station, blasting aliens, uncovering secrets, untangling the connections between the employees there, and making some seriously difficult moral choices. A truly impressive video game that's just begging for a second playthrough on my own time at some point.

July 20th saw the beginning of new activity on my blog. In a spur-of-the-moment decision that I didn't think out too well, I brazenly announced out of nowhere that I would be doing a re-watch of Steven Universe! I proceeded to liveblog the first 11 episodes of Steven Universe over a week, lovingly looking back at the series' origins, calling out moments of foreshadowing, and analyzing everything with the lens of all my knowledge about the show. And then... Nothing! Just as soon as it began, the project was dropped. I had hoped it would rekindle my interest in Liveblogging (outside of new episodes of SU and RWBY), but I had no such luck. You know I'm burnt out when even Steven Universe, my favorite thing ever, can't help...

By September 3rd, the Steven Universe Movie had finally released! Over a hype-as-hell two days, I liveblogged the entire film. It truly was Steven Universe at its absolute best! Touching, sincere, unexpected, and rife with some stellar songs that are STILL stuck in my head. It proved that the Crewniverse hadn't lost its spark since the conclusion of the original series.

November 5th was my 25th birthday! My family celebrated by all going out for an amazing sushi dinner. Good times! Sometimes, it's really hard for me to grasp that I'm actually 25... I'm a kid at heart, really! Or maybe it's that I'm a social recluse who enjoys watching anime a little too much. Regardless, I feel no shame!

November 10th saw the debut of RWBY Volume 7, and so far it has been an exceptionally strong season. I've long maintained the opinion that the show gets better and better every season, and Volume 7 has given me no reason to doubt that. One episode in particular became my second favorite in the series, right behind a certain one from Volume 6! I'm really enjoying how the characters, new and old, are playing off each other this go around, and the fights and art direction have been no slouch either. This season's a looker! I'm really looking forward to seeing how it ends.

Hot on the heels of the ending Let's Play of Prey, I immediately started up a new series on November 20th... Chrono Trigger! A legendary and widely loved JRPG from the SNES era of gaming that I had somehow gone all my life without playing. Better late than never to fix a mistake like that! I eagerly dived in and nearly immediately understood why it's heralded as an all-time great. The series is currently 13 episodes long, and each one is an endless stream of me being hyped and giddy. I’m already excited to record more!

December 8th saw the debut of Steven Universe Future, a very special epilogue series that's sure to tie a nice bow on the franchise as a whole. As of this post, I have liveblogged the first 8 episodes, and it's fair to say that while it's not holding back in giving the audience exactly what it wants, it's also doing something very unexpected and very, very interesting with Steven himself. Only time will tell how it all ends and whether every remaining mystery will be answered, but so far I have been more than satisfied with it.

And that brings us to the present! Wow, it felt like a lot less happened this year than you would think, huh? No, it's been jam packed with new adventures! I think I am very content with how the year has gone, and I hope you are as well. We'll be striding into the year 2020 with more Steven Universe, more RWBY, more Phoenix Wright, and more Chrono Trigger! Plus, it may very well be that we'll see the return of Made in Abyss and Madoka Magica, both of which (I believe) are getting continuation movies in 2020. I may or may not be entirely wrong about this. Forgive me if I am...

In the near future, the Phoenix Wright Trilogy will be followed up by a Let's Play of Fate/Stay Night! Indeed, the canceled Liveblog will be reborn in youtube video form! And following Chrono Trigger, well... It's mostly up in the air, though I do have a few good ideas. In particular, I recently got a Virtual Reality system set up... Wink wink!

So that's really all there is to it! Cheers, lads! Cheers to a good year, and cheers to the next year being even better! To our good health, our unbreakable friendships, and all the stupid bullshit we’ll get into together! 2020 has arrived!

#Zephyr the Jester #Blog Anniversary

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ichika27 · 4 years

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Mairimashita! Iruma-kun ep 22 (pt. 2)

In-universe and out of it, everyone’s excited for what’s to come!

I mean, seeing the comment section of this video was entertaining, really. Hehe

Aww~ only Clara is enthusiastic though. I like their outfits especially Iruma’s. They don’t all really ‘match’ in theme like in what most idol shows I’ve seen but it works and it matches them individually.

And this isn’t an idol show anyways. It’s a shounen.

Oh, she didn’t figure it out, by the way. The costumes and wigs actually worked!

See? Clara also knew they had to make up akudol names without being told.

I had to pause multiple times during this scene because... *breathes* I never thought Asmodeus would do something like this. He’s so cute at his intro, too! Anything for Iruma-sama, I guess.

Also, he’s the only one of the trio who didn’t change his name since ‘Alice’ is also (and is normally) a female name and no one calls him that except I think his mom and those as home. Everyone else just calls him and probably just remembers him as ‘Asmodeus’.

I love Iruma’s... er, I mean Irumi-chan’s intro. For someone reluctant to do it and think he can’t pull it off, he knows exactly what to say. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised since he’s from a world where idols exist and are super duper popular, too. He’s super cute in that outfit, too have I mentioned? I can’t wait for the fanarts of these 3 as idols. XD

Kuromu has a realization. Maybe Iruma isn’t so bad, after all?

She finally goes on stage and doesn’t let Iruma just walk away from this. They gotta finish what they started!

Double cuteness intensifies! And the crowd goes wild (in and out of universe) <3

Yes, they do sing together after this with Clara and Azz performing beside them while adding some effects on stage. It’s awesome and I hope they have a full version of the song with these two singing released someday. (Also, please, someone edit Hinata from Haikyuu singing this. They have the same voice actor! Or at least wearing an idol outfit...)

His voice while singing is super cute!!

After the performance, the manager (whose name I keep forgetting, I’m so sorry!) reveals that Kuromu’s family did come to heal her but they left afterwards.

They also left this for her. Aww... she finally gets the happy face she wanted.

Also... it took them this long to give her one? Really? They couldn’t have given this to her before, after the other performances she did? Jeez... could’ve saved time, man.

Manager only told Iruma what Kuromu’s family said at the end. They also faint when they’re overwhelmed with emotions like Kuromu did earlier and knew it’d probably happen if they went to her concerts so they just watch and support her at home. Like they always do. Awww~ and they even have glow sticks and fans! They also probably chant ‘Ku~ Ro~ Mu!’ like everyone else. That’s so sweet and also intriguing if they don’t show emotions. Imagine them doing that in a deadpan way...

So, Azz-kun... you gonna have that laminated, too?

And so when they go to school the next day (I assume), this happens.

At least they’re sharing the front page’s big picture together this time, right?

They also talk and Iruma promises never to tell the secret.

New friend acquired!

It’s been a while, huh? I mean, I think the last time was Kiriwo-senpai but does he still count? Iruma still thinks of him as a friend anyways so I guess... then the batra party happened and all so yeah, been a while since he gained a new friend.

... Or not. XD

(same tho, the blue-haired akudol is cute hahaha)

You know what’s nice about posting these late? I get to remember how I felt while watching the episode the first time so the next episode comes and it doesn’t feel like I waited a week for it. XD

This episode was fun and cute and surprising. I like the idol stuff and Iruma singing (seriously, Iruma’s voice actor is talented!). I guess we only have one or two episodes left before the end, I guess? Season 2 when? Please?

I was also hoping there’s a special version of the ED where Kuromu (and maybe Iruma also) sings it and the images are just them in a concert but alas, I guess that’d be too much.

See you next post and sorry if this is too long hehe

#Mairimashita! Iruma-kun #welcome to demon school iruma-kun #anime #sana_post

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sethrine-writes · 4 years

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I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On), Ch. 3

Pairing: Connor x Female Reader

Words: 4387

Chapter Warning: Crime Scene, Minor Character Death, Minor Character Injury, Mild Angst

Story Summary: “Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer’s intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.

Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.

IMPORTANT A/N: This is a repost of a DBH fic I started over a year ago in response to a challenge a friend of mine posted up, at the time. I’ve also gone through and edited/cleaned up each chapter for a better reading experience! I’ll be posting a chapter or two every day until I’ve posted all current chapters, and then I’ll be updating with a brand new chapter for the first time in nearly a year!

Inspired by the song Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin.

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Chapter 3 - Embrace the Life of Tragedy

Connor had insisted he drive to the scene with the promise of stopping once more by your favorite coffee shop for actual coffee. He wasn’t surprised that you had taken the offer; you would have let him drive, regardless, but a little extra incentive only ensured any bullheadedness on your part wouldn’t dissuade you.

He was even less surprised to find that you had promptly fallen asleep as soon as you had gotten comfortable, head leaned against the seat belt holding you in place and hands limply folded in your lap as you snored lightly.

A deep frown etched its way across his face with each worried glance he took.

He couldn’t help but fret over your clear exhaustion and how it was affecting you. You had been avoiding the issue for some time, roughly a week, and each day without proper rest only left you drained, slow, and even harder to reason with. Stubbornness was a natural trait, but your complete lack of self-care and any attempts at others helping you being met with full-force resistance was becoming a problem that was difficult to work around.

The investigation was eating away at you, consuming you so completely that it was taking away your sleep, stressing you to the max. At the rate you were going, if Connor couldn’t figure out a way to get you to at least take a full day of rest, it was only a matter of time before your body shut itself down.

Whether you realized it or not, you were on the fast track of killing yourself in a slow, agonizing way.

His grip tightened against the wheel, jaw clenching as he willed the thought away. It was too distracting, too extreme of a notion for him to brood about on top of everything else going on. There was no time for what-ifs, especially when there was a crime scene awaiting their presence, a full-on investigation waiting for them to solve.

Connor sighed, if only to feel the motion and release the tension in his shoulders.

In truth, thinking that way made him feel something he couldn’t describe completely, only knowing that it was an ache that almost felt physical, crushing and deep. The longer he thought about it, the more it made a sense of panic rise within him, a restless fear making itself known and becoming stronger the longer his mind reeled.

To lose you to something so trivial, to something that could easily be prevented-

To lose you-

Flashing lights pulled him out of his thoughts, the multiple police cars coming into view a sign that he had arrived at the correct destination without even realizing it. He parked near the curb just ahead of the other vehicles, hand reaching for the key and hesitating.

He looked over to your sleeping form, watched as your chest slowly lifted and fell with your deep, even breaths. In total, the car ride hadn’t been any longer than fifteen minutes, not nearly enough time for you to even enter a steady REM sleep. If anything, waking you would do nothing but progress your stress level, of which was much, much too high, already. Had you not been the resilient sort, you would have surely already crumbled. It was a wonder how you kept yourself going.

Leaving you in the car wasn’t an option, unfortunately, not one that would end well, should you miss out on key details with your own eyes. Though he would much rather you be mad at him for letting you sleep, he knew how important this whole thing was to you, could see just how tirelessly you were working to ensure no detail was missed, neglecting your own health in favor of upturning every stone for any sliver of information that would help solve the investigation.

It almost pained him to completely turn off the car and reach for you, shaking you gently by the shoulder. There was barely a moment of contact before you were breathing in suddenly and popping up, eyes blearily looking around before you reached up to aggressively rub at them to clear your sight. Anxious, even in sleep, enough that any slight touch easily pulled you back to the waking world.

“We here?” you asked, words slightly raspy from your short slumber.

“Yes, we just arrived,” he answered softly, earning a sleepy grin. He returned the gesture, but if his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you couldn’t seem to tell.

“Thanks for driving, Connor. Not sure if I would’ve been able to focus completely. My eyes have been so weird, lately.”

“Of course, it was no trouble,” he answered.

“Let's get this over with, shall we?”

Connor watched as you unbuckled and reached for the door handle before stepping out, frowning once more at your resilient, stubborn nature.

The coffee he had promised you, or lack thereof, hadn’t been mentioned, and Connor wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or concerned at the realization.

---

“Hey, Stella,” you greeted the officer standing by with a strained grin, tired eyes taking in the outside of the building you were called to.

It was a rundown complex, most likely having been in the works to become apartments, but it was apparent construction had ceased a long time ago, and what had already been built was left behind in favor of bigger projects in much more sustainable, profitable areas. It was definitely the perfect place to commit a murder; secluded, empty, and easily ignored by everyday travelers.

Stella greeted you both politely, giving a nod as incentive to move through the yellow holographic police line that barred the public, should there be any, from crossing into the scene of a crime. She was a sweet girl, kind almost to a fault, a bit stiff with her speech, but still one hell of a policewoman. After the revolution, she had been one of the first androids, outside of Connor, to be hired on at the DPD. It had taken several months of absolute garbage paperwork, but you, as well as a good percentage of the precinct, were happy to have her on board.

“He couldn’t have picked a better place to torture his victims,” you muttered, gaze roaming back to Stella. “Any recent details come up?”

“Only one victim has been found and identified as Braxton Hughes, age thirty-two, discovered by a squatter, who frequents the building, approximately one hour and forty-six minutes ago. I’ve heard nothing more regarding the scene.”

“Has Lieutenant Anderson arrived yet?” Connor asked, earning somewhat of a frown from Stella. That was never a good sign, especially from her, and it had you instantly anxious.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant Anderson was on another call and has yet to arrive.”

“Are we the first detectives on the scene, then?” you questioned next, feeling your stomach twist unpleasantly at the hesitant shake of Stella's head.

“I’m afraid an attempt to contact you was…dismissed briefly by Captain Fowler in favor of allowing another able detective to take charge. I…I may have contacted Connor, regardless.”

At least you could count on Stella to keep you in the loop. But the way she was avoiding telling you who exactly was on the scene filled you with dread. You already knew, it was incredibly obvious, but you wanted to be sure. You wanted to be wrong.

“Who's in there, Stella?”

She hesitated again, lips parting, but voice unheard. She looked to you, then Connor, then looked straight ahead to avoid your intense stare.

“I believe he sent Detective Reed-"

“Son of a bitch,” you groused under your breath, rushing into the building as the feeling of dread and anger built within you. Connor muttered a curse behind you, his steps quick as he followed you down the long hallway toward the scene of the crime.

“Wait!”

He reached out and tried to slow you down, restrain you with a grip on your arm, but you pulled away quickly and stepped beyond the second to last entrance on the left where yet another officer was on stand-by. Connor made no other move to stop you this time, but remained close, knowing that there was a possibility things could go bad.

Your eyes roamed over the scene, picking up bits and pieces that had a very similar look to the previous case that Anthony was involved in. Your focus, however, directed itself to the crouched detective in front of the dead victim bound to a chair. Your anger simmered to the surface as you stomped toward your target.

“Gavin!”

You were inwardly pleased to see the mouthy detective jump up from his crouch, looking momentarily bewildered. That was before his expression smoothly transitioned into a smirk, gloved hands folding across his chest. You hated that such a simple look had you practically seething.

“Well, well, well, look who showed up! I gotta say, I thought you had more exciting things on your agenda, since you weren’t here, and all.”

He was baiting you, as he always did. It was as if Gavin never fully enjoyed himself unless he was pissing off others in some way. You ignored his half-assed attempt of riling you up for the time being in favor of getting straight to the point.

“What the hell are you doing here, Reed? This isn’t your investigation, last time I checked, and you damn well know it.”

“Calm down,” he drawled, unfazed by your outburst, “I was the only one available when the call came in. Can’t get pissy if no one else on your team was around to do the job.”

“How did anyone know I wasn’t available if I never got the call, huh? Connor didn’t even get a call, not until your trigger-happy ass was already on scene, apparently.”

“Last I heard, you and your boy toy were supposed to be running around with plastic dignitaries all day,” Gavin mocked, eyes narrowed in distaste. You glared right back with equal disgust at his words, forgetting you were supposed to be taking the high road. It wasn’t professional in the least, fighting over the corpse of a man who, most likely, didn’t deserve to die, but you couldn't…wouldn't…back down, not when you had done so every time before.

Gavin had given you more than enough reason in the past to fight against him, and you didn't, finding that you had far better things to do than take the bait he so flauntingly held before you. Your job was more important than petty arguments and one-sided rivalries. This time, however, you were just tired enough to not give a damn; to hell with the consequences!

“So, you suggested to Fowler to let you on site of a case pertaining to my investigation instead of even attempting to contact me, is that it?”

“Well, while you’re out playing around, some of us are actually trying to solve murder cases. You know, saving lives, and all?”

“Like you really care,” you spat, fingers curling against your palm, your insides trembling with the need for action. “You’re only interested in gaining approval through backhanded means! Can’t be bothered with petty crimes, don’t care if you have to undermine others, so long as you’re up Fowler’s ass and getting all the recognition you don’t deserve!”

Gavin scoffed, and rolled his eyes, your fists shaking at your sides. You were hardly aware of the other people in the room, several officers taking cautious interest at your heated exchange, Connor immediately behind you as you stepped closer, all waiting for something more to happen. It had been a long time coming, and your usually squashed down frustration and contempt were beginning to completely override your system.

“That's real rich, coming from you,” Gavin egged on, unaware -possibly uncaring- of the tight rope he was walking. “You think you’re some special snowflake because you had a hand in this android-revolt shit. And now what? You play secretary for a bunch of tin cans, as if what you do even matters! Bet it really bothers you, knowing that you’re only something because a couple of plastic pricks figured out how to use you like the puppet you are-"

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of what Gavin had to say. As it was, you barely had control of your own actions; your fist was already flying through the air before you registered you were even moving, and it wasn’t until the satisfying feeling of your knuckles slamming home into Gavin's face that you realized Connor had called your name in an attempt to stop you.

All at once, people were in a frenzy to quell the confrontation. Connor had immediately wrapped his arms around you as you struggled against him, all practical sense gone in favor of wanting to get at Gavin, to direct your overflowing rage onto him. Several officers had stepped between you and Gavin as he made a ruckus, cursing and holding the side of his face with anger.

“Get her the fuck out of here!”

Connor had already begun backing out of the room, ensuring the officers watching that he would be able to handle you, even as you fought him with flailing limbs and sharp words.

“Let me go, Connor! Let me fucking go!” you shouted, attempting to lunge out of his arms with sharp, thrashing movements. His grip on you was firm, however, and within seconds, he had you halfway back down the hall as you shouted and continued to fight his grasp.

“Calm down! This isn’t like you, at all!”

Connor’s loud, deep voice registered through your haze of infuriation, and almost as quickly as you had lashed out, you were still in his arms. Your breaths were ragged and deep, brows furrowing in mild confusion at your own actions.

What in the world had you done?

“I don't…I don’t know what came over me,” you rasped, legs shaking as the adrenaline from your encounter with Gavin began to dissipate rapidly. You could feel Connor’s hold relax around your body, though his arms remained holding you for the time being, afraid that you might make a run for Gavin, should he let go.

“You lost control, in there,” he said, not meaning for his words to come out in such an admonishing tone. If anything, he was more shocked that you had acted out in such a way, especially since you were easily able to deflect Gavin's usual mocking and snide comments. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know…I wasn’t,” you said quietly, voice sounding small, even in your own ringing ears. With the adrenaline having run its course, you could feel the heated sting of your hand where you had punched Gavin, the knuckles swollen and red. There were a lot of things you could feel without the numbing rush of contempt clouding your judgement, such as the prominent burn in your dry, tired eyes, the pounding ache in your skull, the building churn of your stomach climbing higher and higher-

“Connor, let me…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Connor released you at the first weak pull against his arms, and you immediately rushed toward the exit, only making it as far as the steps leading to the second story before the meager contents of your stomach were suddenly on the floor. You sucked in air sharply, spitting the bile from your mouth as you attempted to keep any dry heaving at bay with careful breaths. The gentle pressure of a hand at your back almost startled you, causing you to tremble and let out a soft noise of distress.

“You're ill,” Connor stated, large brown eyes studying you carefully, analyzing.

“I'm alright,” you assured, spitting one last time and taking in a deep, steadying breath. There was the barest pain in your stomach, and you cursed yourself for jinxing the idea of an ulcer earlier at the park. It was more a probability, ironic as it was, and getting so worked up was only going to exacerbate the issue.

“You are not alright,” Conner countered, eyes narrowing as his voice slowly gained traction. “Your stress level has been at a near-constant ninety-three percent all week, well above average, and definitely above the safe range. You’re not sleeping; you’re actively avoiding sleep, with highly increased intake of caffeine-"

“Connor,” you called out quietly, though he seemed to not have heard you as he continued his rant, voice escalating in volume and his L.E.D. spinning yellow.

“-have you even eaten anything substantial, recently? Have you done anything for yourself that didn’t revolve around this investigation? Your vitals are in a constant state of fluctuation that isn’t remotely healthy for a woman your age-"

“I get it, Connor, I do-"

“No, you don't!” he shouted suddenly, hands coming up to grasp at your upper arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his eyes were alight with panic as he crowded your space.

“You can’t possibly understand that what you're doing is killing you, and I can't allow…I can't….”

Connor's voice wavered until he became quiet, blinking rapidly as he came back to himself. The panic was replaced by concern and guilt, his eyes roving over your trembling form before quickly letting go of you. He took two steps back, giving you space as he looked to his outstretched hands, the guilt becoming more prominent the longer he gazed at his palms.

“I'm sorry, I…I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he murmured, meeting your wide eyes as you continued to stare at him.

It was your turn to be shocked at Connor's outburst. Since knowing him, you had only ever seen him this worked up when trying to deny his deviancy. Since fully accepting the notion, he had eased into understanding his emotions with careful consideration, explored what he was feeling when appropriate and asking questions when able.

For the first time, Connor had lost control, and it was so unbelievably human of him that it left you speechless.

The silence between you was deafening and heavy. You were both conflicted, unable to decide the next course of action.

“H-hElP….”

Your gaze shifted to the side, head turning at the quiet voice that sounded in your ear, almost too quiet to pick up on, and yet, you still heard it. Maybe…maybe Connor was right to lash out like he had. Maybe you were starting to hallucinate, hearing things in your sleep-deprived state, like weird, static-filled voices calling out for-

“Help, someone…pl-pLeAsE….”

You turned to look at Connor, who had also turned toward the voice. His gaze fell back on you, expression changing from surprised to serious within seconds.

“Did you-?”

“Get behind me,” he ordered, reaching for the gun he kept holstered and hidden along his torso and aiming it before him. All previous apprehension was forgotten as the situation changed drastically, mind easily slipping into work mode.

You followed behind Connor as he moved forward, reaching for your own gun you kept holstered at your belt…only to curse at realizing you had left the damn thing in the glove compartment of your car, like a novice. You were definitely suffering from your inability to slow down on the case if you were forgetting something as vital as your gun. At least Connor was always prepared.

He led the way into the room straight across from the stairs, the door having long been pulled from the hinges. From what you could initially see in the dark, the area looked absolutely wrecked, the floor above having somewhat collapsed to leave behind piles of debris across the floor. Connor slowly maneuvered through the mess of wood, concrete, and sheetrock without any hindrance from the surrounding darkness, gaze alert for any possible signs of movement as you trailed a bit behind, fumbling into your coat pocket for your cell phone.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” you called out, turning on the flashlight setting to better see in front of you. “We’re with Detroit Police. If you can hear me, please say something.”

There was a moment of tense quiet before a voice, warbling with static interference, spoke once more, sounding off from your right.

“Please…pLeAsE hElP us!”

Connor cursed as you darted toward the voices without hesitation, calling out to you as you ducked under some shifty looking debris that immediately crumbled after you pushed through it. You let out a surprised shout, coughing a bit at the rise of dust and almost blanching as your stomach turned in warning. There was no time for that, not when someone was in need of your help.

“Damnit! Are you alright?” Connor shouted, fear lacing his voice as he attempted to find another route into the room you had inadvertently found yourself in.

“I'm fine, I'm good,” you answered, hoping that it eased him somewhat.

You straightened and steadied your phone before you, sweeping the light shining from it slowly through the area with bated breath. It was as you passed a particularly large mess of material that you noticed the slightest movement. You paused, wiping at your eyes to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the mind, but the movement continued. It was a hand, waving slowly in the air before disappearing behind what looked like a large metal support beam.

“Connor, I found someone,” you shouted abruptly, rushing forward and falling to your knees as you came upon not one, but two people hiding amongst the destruction. There was a woman, unconscious with an unhealthy pallor, who was being held protectively close within the embrace of an android, if the blue blood coming from his nose was any indication. He looked startled, a little beat up, as one of his arms looked busted and limp at his side.

He…he was the same model as Josh. It made your heart lurch within your chest.

“Shit, I need paramedics in here!”

“Stella is alerting them, now. They’ll be in momentarily,” you heard Connor grunt out, the sound of shifting rubble indicating he was ensuring a clear path to your location.

With a steadying breath, you leaned in closer and began to assess the damages carefully, watching as a dark arm trembled around the woman, most likely in fear. You hoped you could at least calm him in some way, placing a soothing hand against his tense forearm while speaking clearly, calmly.

“My name is Detective (Y/n) (L/n); I'm with the Detroit Police Department. Can you tell me your name?”

“WiLl,” was warbled out in answer, his vocal module most likely having been damaged in some way. “Please, h-hElP her.”

“I’ve got paramedics coming in, they're right outside,” you comforted him, already hearing the rushed approach of footsteps as Connor directed them in through the initial entrance.

You reached forward to take hold of the woman's slack arm with careful movements, letting Will know your intent was to check her pulse. You were immediately aware of the heat coming off her skin as well as her strangely slowed heart rate, how she felt clammy to the touch despite the ice cold of winter. You turned her arm in your grasp, noting the dark, prominent map of her veins branching up from her wrist in a macabre display.

Just like the previous victims.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“He…he took us. KiDnApPeD us. Don’t…don’t know why. He poisoned hEr WiTh blue blood. She sUfFeReD. Had to…get her to sAfEtY. Please, she's dying!”

“Help is here, it's here,” you assured, turning as the illumination of flashlights appeared and came closer. You turned back to Will, finding him in utter relief as one of the paramedics came up beside you on the right, gloved hands reaching out toward the unconscious woman while simultaneously attempting to ease any worries the android may have had.

“Please check Detective (L/n) for any sustained injuries,” Connor spoke up suddenly from your left. You looked to him with confusion, halting one of the paramedics who had begun to look you over, as requested.

“Connor, I'm fine,” you emphasized, though the look he was giving you brought you back several minutes ago to the stairwell, how he had acted out without thought because he was scared-

“You…!”

Turning abruptly, your attention was taken by Will’s intense expression. His eyes were wide as he looked up directly at Connor, his arm squeezing tightly around the woman as a blinding rage took hold of him.

“You tried to kiLl HeR! You won't get to her, again! You won't ToUcH her!”

All at once, time seemed to slow right before your eyes as Will lifted the seemingly limp hand at his side, a gun firmly grasped within it.

Had you a moment to think, you would have surely gone about a different way of redirecting his shot. As it was, you were running on autopilot, hands coming up to grab his wrist as you forced yourself between the weapon and his intended target. There was a sharp click, several shouts of surprise, and for two heart-stopping seconds, you were sure you were dead.

“Detective!”

You looked down with impossibly wide eyes, finding Will's finger pulled tight against the trigger. The gun had gone off without a hitch, but there was no bullet to be shot. The clip was apparently completely empty. Will hadn’t anticipated an empty clip, nor had he anticipated you jumping in front of him. He had acted upon instinct, apparently seeing a threat and attempting to protect the woman in his arms.

“I..I didn't mean to-"

“I think I'll take this, now,” you rasped with an outward rush of air, gently pulling at the gun. Will’s grip released immediately as you took hold of the weapon with shaking hands, moving away as both the paramedics and Stella took over the scene.

Your eyes lingered on the gun in your hands, body letting go of a breath you hadn’t realized you'd been holding. You looked up to your left, finding absolutely terrified brown eyes gazing back at you. Realization hit you like a bag of bricks, so sudden and alarming that you nearly felt your heart stutter in your chest.

The investigation had suddenly taken its biggest turn, yet.

“Connor,” you said slowly, voice low and stuttering slightly. “I think…I think we might know who we're looking for.”

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh gavin #reader #reader-insert #torn in two

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

FTLOAP: Chapter 45: The Time Will Come When You'll Have To Rise

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5; Chapter 41; Chapter 42; Chapter 43; Chapter 44

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

tagging @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Woohoo! I actually managed another chapter, hard to believe, I know...

I think at this point, it would be more sensible to remove any scheduled updates, and I just post the next chapter when it's done. Fair warning though: November is fast approaching now and with it NaNoWriMo. I'm not going to participate in that this year, but my alpha-reader does. So I don't know how much time he'll have for editing and helping. And after NaNo, I'm very close to my delivery date already, so no promises about updates then, either. However, I solidly plan to at least post one more chapter before that! Afterwards, I don't know how quickly I will get back to writing. If you have questions though, you can always contact me through PM here or through the ATOV Discord server. And without a regular update schedule, I now have a tagging list here, so if you want to get included there, just tell me. 😊

I feel positive about this other update because a good part of it is already written as I'd originally planned to have that scene in this chapter. But as it is, the chapter got pretty long already so I split it again. This time, the ending feels much more solid than the last time I had to do that, and I hope it feels that way for you, too.

This week's title comes from the song Warriors again by Imagine Dragons. After splitting the chapter, I again had to come up with a new title, and after a bit of thinking, this one felt exceedingly fitting. 😇

. o O o .

Throughout the following few days, Astrid kept pondering over it all; Eret’s accident and everything that had happened afterwards. It wasn’t entirely by choice; she much rather would have thought about Hiccup and how they could be together instead. But she was at a loss there, only having Hiccup’s renewed optimism to hold on to, and repeatedly going through the same pointless plans wasn’t exactly productive. Thinking about other problems instead wasn’t necessarily more pleasant, but it was still… easier.

And thinking about those incidents certainly had a grounding effect. The more she mentally reviewed the attempted stab in the back against Eret, the more certain she was about one thing – from the fierceness and aim of his attack, the now-dead nobleman had intended for it to be a killing blow. It was a hot topic of gossip among the nobles, with many supporting her opinion – without her ever having stated it openly – and being outraged on her and her future husband’s behalf, aided by more witnesses speaking up about their view of the man’s dishonourable attack. Tournament or not, melee or not, stabbing a man in the back was seen as low and cowardly. Some had even called for action against the man’s family, such as fines or other punishments. But as he was already dead, the King had dismissed the idea, saying that they’d been punished enough. However, the entire topic, with the number of witnesses essentially corroborating Astrid’s opinion, was enough that even Eret and Dagur had to admit that it probably hadn’t been an accident at all.

At first, accepting that fact had made especially Dagur’s anger at Snotlout grow even hotter, though not for long. Snot hadn’t gotten through that fight unscathed either, despite initial impressions. The hit against his head had caused a mild concussion, and the kick to his side had cracked a rib. If he’d lost on purpose somehow, then he’d made an incredibly bad bargain.

Both Eret and Snot had been confined to bed rest on the healers’ orders for the following few days, making Astrid anxious for both of her brothers. No matter how irritating Snot’s behaviour lately had been, she still cared for him. But now, two days later, Master Mulch had been willing to state that he was relatively certain that both ducal heirs would fully recover. Eret had even insisted on riding out for today’s hunt again; not to actually participate, but at least to show that he was recovering, that he was still there and the place at her side not vacant again.

And no matter how much Astrid – and practically everybody else – had scolded him for this unnecessary show of bravado, she was also grateful for it. Eret could be pretty foolhardy, she knew that perfectly well. But she also knew that he wouldn’t risk his health and life for something as superficial as this. No, she trusted in him, in his assurance that he was doing fine, and let it soothe her enough not to worry about his injury too much. His safety was another matter altogether, but there was little she could do about that. Right now, he was out in the forest, accompanied by Hiccup and Dagur, and probably with a few of her father’s guards keeping a close eye on him, too. That would have to be enough.

Sighing, she turned the next corner. For once, she had nothing to do; with her suitors being out on that hunt and with her governess being done lecturing her for today, she was at loose ends, for a little while at least. But as there wasn’t enough time to go anywhere, she’d opted for a stroll through the castle instead, with Timothy walking a couple of steps behind her.

Well, there was one place she could go, and if things were different, she would have gone to visit Fishlegs as soon as her governess had let her leave. But of course, that wasn’t an option these days. Just thinking about Heather made a bunch of twisted emotions rise inside Astrid. There was the fear that she might expose them, despite her declaration that she would keep their secret. She’d made it clear, after all: she didn’t feel any fealty to them, not when their actions might threaten her own little family. And no matter how much Astrid tried to avoid that thought; she was acutely aware of the fact that, if Hiccup wasn’t a consideration, she probably would have married Eret without question – and thus make Dagur more inclined to focus on his role as ducal heir as well.

But beneath that fear, she could also relate to Heather. The threat of having the future she’d been so sure of ripped away from her, of losing those she loved, and being ready to do everything to keep them… yes, she could sympathise with that all too well. She just hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, that Heather wouldn’t feel threatened enough to take actions against her relationship with Hiccup. Because Astrid wasn’t sure what she’d do then, was even afraid of how far she might be willing to go.

If only they would be able to come up with something of a plan, some way to achieve their goal without tearing anyone else down with them. She just wanted to be with Hiccup, to be able to love him in peace and spend her life with him. Was that really too much to ask for?

To soothe her anxiety at least a little, she pressed her hand to her chest, focusing on and basking in the warm glow of Hiccup’s soul. They would find a way! Somehow… Maybe running away really wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be other ways.

With her hand still resting over her heart, she paused at one of the high windows and gazed out over the land around the castle. It was beautiful, with the lake to her left, the edges of the forest in the distance, and grassland in-between, littered with solitary trees and shrubs here and there. It was still early in the year, but it was obvious that spring was coming quickly now, trees and bushes showing first signs of green and some early flowers growing everywhere.

Yes, it was beautiful… But that didn’t change that it was nothing but a cage, binding and suffocating her.

She was about to turn away when a bit of movement caught her eye. There, on a meadow to the right, a handful of horses pranced over the grass and chased each other around. Some grooms were there, too, watching over the animals, all clearly enjoying the sunlight.

The sight gave Astrid a painful sting. Usually, visiting the stables on a day like this would be an option too, but… but not yet. Someday, she certainly would have the strength to enter the stables again. She was even looking forward to riding and generally being around horses again. But for now, the pain of losing Markor was still too strong. It had all happened so fast. In one moment, everything had been as usual and in the next, he’d just been… gone. She missed him with a dull ache in her chest, one that only worsened when she remembered how she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye in any way and had no way of remembering or mourning him.

Except… that wasn’t really true, was it? she mused with something of a grimace. She still had the statue Hiccup had given her as a Midwinter gift. As a reminder, he’d said... Her lips twitched into a sad smile as she contemplated the irony. He’d meant that it would be a reminder of him for when he couldn’t be with her, and not of the horse it depicted. But somehow, she felt like this was the perfect way to remember Markor: frozen yet so alive in this tiny figurine – as if he was about to turn and run around at any moment. The thought made a lump rise in her throat, but she managed to keep any tears at bay. She would miss him, would always remember him. But no matter how pointless his death had been, endlessly crying over his fate wouldn’t revive him, either.

Tearing her thoughts away from that path, they inevitably landed where she hadn’t wanted them instead. It wasn’t even farfetched, her mind quickly drawing the connection between Markor and Hiccup, of him giving her that figurine, of the nights she’d spend in the stables, so comfortable and optimistic about their future. She still trusted in the Gods, or whatever force had woven their fates together, but even that didn’t really help when faced with the hopelessness brought by rejecting one impossible idea after the other.

Maybe Dagur and Eret had been right after all and approaching Daniel with a request for help might work. But even though he certainly had been fond enough of Hiccup during the winter, Astrid wasn’t sure whether she could rely on just that flimsy hope, especially as he wasn’t to return for at least another week anyway. That would be hitting awfully close to when it would be too late…

She also was aware of a certain piece of parchment that was still safely stored away in her new treasure box. She was ready to use her father’s boon for this; they would probably need every bit of help they could get. But without a plan, she was afraid of revealing her feelings to the King. She just couldn’t predict how he would react. All she knew was that simply ‘requesting to marry Hiccup’ wouldn’t work. The King had made it clear that his announcement of her marrying one of the eligible noblemen currently courting her wasn’t something he could or would take back. And ‘giving Hiccup land and title’ was equally hopeless. Because Hiccup had been right, there was no land even the King could easily give away just like that.

It all seemed overwhelmingly hopeless, but she had to have faith, had to trust that they would find a way. Eventually…

Later, Astrid would be sure that what happened next had to have been the Gods who guided her steps. Meeting the Grand Dukes Oswald and Eret II in the vast labyrinth that was the castle’s corridors couldn’t have been just a coincidence – the timing was too perfect.

At first, she only heard a familiar voice from around a corner, one that made her feel a little more at ease in an instant, thanks to her mind associating it with enjoyable vacations in the South and days spent at Southshore’s sunny beaches. The voice spoke quietly, but as soon as she focused, the words became easily understandable.

“...just received a letter from Lord Gregson. Apparently, it is as I feared.”

“That’s unfortunate,” came Eret II’s muttered reply. “What exactly did he– Oh, hello Astrid,” he interrupted himself as she stepped into view, a fond smile spreading across his weathered face at her sight. “How are you, lass? Are you bored to death by all these tournaments and suitors yet?”

Astrid’s face twisted, unsure how to react to that. Of course, Uncle Eret knew her well enough to know that she didn’t exactly enjoy all this fuss, just like she in return knew that he wasn’t any better when it came to overly formal events. But on the other hand, he’d been in on this plan, so it felt a little two-faced for him to complain about them now. Either way, she couldn’t ignore the fatherly smile on his face and not the usual sense of ease it gave her either. And it again reminded her of how, under different circumstances, she’d be about to join his House, his family, and do so happily.

“You know me too well,” she played along, plastering an indulgent smile on her lips. “I’m just glad it’ll all be over soon.”

“Aye, it certainly will be,” Oswald agreed with a light snort. Beneath his own smile, he seemed troubled though, making Astrid wonder what the men had been talking about before she’d interrupted them.

Cocking her head, she tried to look as innocent as possible. “But enough of that. What was it you were talking about just now? It seems to bother you, is anything the matter?” She wasn’t even sure what kind of answer she expected. But asking couldn’t hurt, right?

“Oh, that,” Oswald waved her off with a forced smile. “That’s just politics. Believe me, you wouldn’t be interested in this, lass. If you really think tournaments are boring, be glad that it’s not on you to deal with such things, too.”

Astrid had to bite back any comment on that. It was so typical that the men wouldn’t tell her anything.

Eret II grunted in agreement and shook his head. “Yeah, this really is nothing you need to be concerned about. But it’s good that we met here. I wanted to ask whether my son is already settled in his new rooms. I hardly get the chance to talk to him these days, he’s always so busy.” He chuckled and winked at her.

Because of… reasons, Eret had been made to relocate into other rooms, reasons that made her have to hide a smirk. “As far as I know, he’s relocating today,” she replied as calmly as she could. “A group of servants should be transferring his belongings to the new room as we speak. At least I’m supposed to meet him there for a private dinner later – with a whole entourage of chaperons, of course.” She forced something of an amused grimace onto her face, hoping that it was an appropriate reaction. Deep down, she was glad over this development, though. With having made her unofficial choice at the ball came a few privileges that certainly were to her liking. Like being allowed to spend time with her future husband in a more private setting, with only her warder or maidservant and Sir Eret’s squire as chaperons.

Apparently, her reaction had been what the men had expected from her as they both chuckled fondly at her comment. Even Timothy behind her couldn’t stay completely quiet, covering up his laughter as coughing. Of course, his amusement had an altogether different reason, but that was something the Grand Dukes didn’t need to know about.

“That sounds about right,” Eret II eventually commented, sobering up again. “Then we better not delay you, wherever you were heading to. See you soon.”

The men nodded at her with something of an insinuated bow – more of a polite nod with a bit of a bend at the waist – which Astrid dutifully returned with a curtsy of her own before she took the obvious dismissal and continued on her way. The fact that she’d again been excluded from any political knowledge bugged her though, so when she reached another junction only a few steps further down the corridor, she went there, giving the Grand Dukes a last friendly smile as she turned around the corner. As soon as she was out of sight though, she made a step to the side to hide in a doorway, indicating Tuff to be quiet and follow her lead. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn something about the political situation of the Kingdom after all.

And for once, she couldn’t believe her luck.

“So, what was it Lord Gregson wrote to you in that letter?” Eret II said, picking up their conversation.

There was a low, unamused snort from Oswald. “Basically, that he’s giving up. He used so many fancy words that I think he asked one of Frigga’s Gythias to help him compose it. All of these wonderful, florid turns-of-phrase, on and on. About how honoured he felt that we put such trust into him and how he’d wanted to give his best to live up to these expectations and so forth.”

“Aye, I know the type of report,” Eret II said. “I think I’ve even written a few in my time, back when we were younger.”

“I know. I helped, remember? But you were drunk at the time, so I’m not surprised that you don’t,” Oswald said tartly but fondly. The pair of them walked past the doorway, and Astrid gave Tuff a look of dire threat if he so much as blinked loudly. Outside, Oswald continued. “But it all boils down to the fact that he doesn’t feel up to the task of rebuilding County Ravenledge. And at this point, it doesn’t even matter whether it’s because he feels as if the people there deserve better after all they’ve been through or whether he just realised how much work that would be and is too lazy to stand his ground under such circumstances. At least he’s honest enough to admit that he doesn’t feel up to the challenge. But that means that we have to find someone else to take it on, and I fear that the reasons for Lord Gregson’s pull-out will become publicly known sooner rather than later. Which also means that in a week or two, it’ll become increasingly difficult to find a replacement. Everyone is hungry for titles, yes, but that’s because they’re all spoiled brats who want to live like, well, nobles, not have to work with me looking over their shoulder.”

"Yes, I see your problem," came Eret II’s reply, his voice getting lower and lower as the distance between Astrid and the Grand Dukes grew. "I wish we could spare Osmond this problem in addition to everything else, but he has to know about it."

"No doubts about that. But maybe, this can even come in handy." Oswald laughed harshly. "Although, while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part. We…"

The voices grew too low for Astrid to understand more, but she felt as if she'd heard enough anyway. Stunned, she stood in her doorway and stared at Tuff, unsure whether she was ready to believe what she'd just heard. But in his eyes, she spotted the same excited gleam that was buzzing in her mind as well, and tentatively, she let hope take roots inside her.

County Ravenledge… the name alone was enough to make her cringe at the reminder of Harold, of his foul breath on her skin and his filthy hands on her body. But he was the past and that wasn't what truly was on her mind anyway.

The man her father and the Grand Dukes had instituted as new Count Ravenledge had resigned his office. And now, it was back in the hands of the Crown, free to be distributed to whoever was deemed fit or worthy of the job.

Astrid's heart was pounding rapidly against her ribs and she was incredibly glad for the hard wood in her back keeping her upright. This was it! This was what they'd been looking for, the solution to their problem, the way out. If Hiccup became the new Count Ravenledge, then he definitely would be of a high-enough rank for her to marry him. Nobody would dare to object to such a choice.

"I assume you want to meet with Eret as soon as possible?" Tuff needlessly asked, emphasising the name to let her know that he knew who she really wanted to see. Astrid could only nod, her mind whirling with countless possibilities. "Then I suggest we return to your rooms and Ruff and I see whether we can help to get his new rooms ready. The sooner you all can talk this through the better.”

. o O o .

The reason why Eret had to move into other rooms was the source of a wide range of emotions to Astrid. It had all started with some whispered mutterings on the morning after the ball, whispers Astrid herself hadn’t learned about until a day later. Apparently, some people thought it was inappropriate for Eret, the soon-to-be-but-not-yet-husband of the Princess, to spend his nights in such close proximity to her. After all, he inhabited an entire suite of rooms in the family wing of the castle, only separated from his future wife by three corridors. Why, behind two sets of thick oak doors, all sorts of... things could happen in his bedroom!

Yesterday, when Astrid finally had heard them from Eret, she’d initially laughed before another thought had struck her, making her irritation smoulder. Apparently, people were serious about the insinuations against Eret’s character. Eret had slept in that suite for months now, ever since he’d arrived in the capital last fall. And back then, people had already believed them to be a ‘couple’, and had for years. But now it was a problem? Just when things were heating up to the point that Eret was surviving attempts on his life?

It was an obvious smear campaign, and her fury had started to kindle–

–Only to vanish like smoke in a high wind when Tuff had burst out laughing at her indignation and Ruff had, after fighting her own mirth, explained that she and her brother had started the whispers. But even this confusion – and granted, Eret’s and Dagur’s as well – hadn’t lasted long.

The rumours and public demands for decency had apparently all been part of their plan; a few comments down in the kitchens and washer-rooms and elsewhere had spread like a wildfire on open grasslands. With the castle still being unusually packed from the celebrations, there weren’t exactly many other places for Eret – and Hiccup – to move to. House Jag’r’s townhouse certainly was an option, but with Eret still healing and having to participate in the events again as soon as he was recovered, it was more sensible for him to stay at the castle. So, after some discussions – discussions in which the twins were included, in their positions as Eret’s apparent-betrothed’s personal servants – it was decided that Eret would relocate to the so-called haunted rooms.

At that, Eret had merely raised an eyebrow, and Dagur had made an encouraging gesture, all of them waiting for Ruff to continue in her explanation.

“The ‘haunted rooms’ are what the staff call the Greatpine Suite,” Ruff explained. “Two floors down from Astrid’s suite and on the other end of the building. Everyone thinks that they’re haunted because there’s this eerie whistling that everyone who stays there hears.” She met Eret’s eyes with a smirk. “So you’ll trade with the men currently barracked there; they’ll be happy to get out, even though your current suite is smaller. But surely a brave knight like Sir Eret of House Jag’r won’t mind, right?”

Laid out in his sickbed, Eret gave her a dubious look that made the twins burst out in even more laughter. Slapping her knee, Ruff gasped, “Don’t worry, there’s no draugr buried under the floorboards or anything else that people say about the rooms.”

“In fact, be honoured that we’re telling you,” Tuff snickered. “Because it’s a secret.”

“What is?” Astrid demanded.

“Why, the secret passage, of course!” Ruff said innocently.

Astrid blinked. “Secret passage?”

“Yup. The one that ends behind that particularly warty painting around the corner from your rooms, Princess,” Tuff said cheerfully. “It was probably meant to be an easy escape route in case of an attack, but hardly anyone knows about them by now.”

Astrid gave another blink as Eret protested. “But you two can’t be the only ones that know about them. Secret or no secret, it’s really hard to hide a whole passageway, even in a building this big. Someone else will make the connection and complain – and it’s too big a risk to use them, if the servants use them, too!”

“But the servants don’t use them,” Ruff emphasised.

“Present company excepted,” Tuff corrected, grinning. “They’re too small,” he mimed a space only a bit wider than his shoulders and lower than his head, “and filled with cobwebs and... gunk.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “And you use them for prank getaways?”

“Milady!” Ruff exclaimed, faux-scandalized. “Such accusations!” She smirked and said, “Besides, even the ones that do know...” She shrugged and looked at Astrid and Eret. “They’re all caught up in the romance of it all. I know at least one cook gave me a wink when I made the suggestion.” Spreading her hands out helplessly, she looked between the two of them. “They know what’s up and are rooting for you two.”

“Greaaat,” Hiccup drawled.

“It is, because it means that we can smuggle you in without a problem,” Tuff said, crossing his arms. “So say ‘thank you.’”

They had thanked the twins for their work. And now, two days later, all Astrid felt was a deep sense of gratitude and a good amount of anticipation, giddiness, and nervousness. If everything went as planned, Hiccup would spend this night with her again, and in her bed no less! Oh, if only it was that late already! She couldn’t wait to feel his hands on her body again, to kiss him and to lose herself in his touch.

But it was only mid-afternoon, with Astrid sitting at her decorated tea table, drinking tea, and nibbling at some light pastries as she waited for the hunting parties to return and for her private dinner with Eret to begin. And before she could enjoy feeling Hiccup’s closeness again, there was something else she had to do anyway.

Aside from making sure that they’d all made it back unharmed and wanting to be close to Hiccup again, she also couldn’t wait to tell them about the conversation she’d overheard. A part of her warned her to be cautious, to not get too excited yet. The idea of Hiccup becoming a full Count in only a few days, of him legally joining those participating in the tournaments and hunts to court her… it felt too good to be true.

Nervously tapping her fingers against the porcelain cup between her hands, she tried to imagine the reactions to her officially and openly changing her mind and choosing Hiccup instead of Eret. Would it be possible for her to ask her father to excuse Hiccup from participating in any fights, just to keep him safe? After what had happened to Eret, that certainly wasn’t an unreasonable concern, right? But would the King even support such a request? Would he support her choice at all? Or would it be better if she only made her choice public at the very last moment, not giving anyone even the slightest chance to take action against Hiccup?

For hours, her mind circled around those same thoughts, over and over, until a knock on her door drew her attention. Astrid heard a servant girl delivering a message to Ruff and it made her heartbeat quicken almost unbearably.

“Are they back?” she asked as soon as Ruff approached her and got up from her seat, unable to sit still any longer.

Her maidservant smirked. “Yes, they’re all back, unharmed, and Sir Eret awaits you for your dinner in about half an hour,” she replied in a ridiculously formal voice. Astrid’s lips twitched but she didn’t say anything and simply let Ruff dress her for the occasion, waiting impatiently for her to be done.

Walking along the corridors and down the stairs to Eret’s new rooms seemed to take forever. She knew that this distance served a purpose, one she supported wholeheartedly, but right now, the prolonged walk was driving her insane in her impatience. Eventually, Tuff halted in his strides though and turned to knock on a door to their right. As Eret’s only servant, it was Hiccup who opened them, the sight of him enough to somewhat calm Astrid’s unquiet mind. He was clearly happy to see them, his eyes nearly flowing over with love as they met her own. But there also was a certain tension in them, in his every movement, and after he’d closed the door behind them again, it became clear that Eret and Dagur were just as tense as he was, the atmosphere overall enough to make her forget everything else.

“What happened?” she asked anxiously, looking around from one man to the other. In a corner, she spotted a table set for two even though it was laden with enough food to last at least twice as many people. But where before she’d been looking forward to this informal meal with her brothers and Hiccup, she now couldn’t even think about eating anything.

“Nothing, really,” Eret eventually mumbled, looking up from where he sat on his bed’s edge. Astrid wanted to scoff at this obvious lie, but he lifted his hand to directly ward off her protest. “Nothing that changes anything, at least. It’s just been… let’s say, it’s been a rough day.”

Astrid still wasn’t inclined to let the topic drop, but before she could demand a more thorough explanation, Dagur already jumped in.

He was sitting backwards on a chair, his arms crossed over the backrest, but she suspected that he was still ready to jump in case Eret needed help. “A new rumour was spreading like wildfire during the hunt,” he grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “The rumour that… well, that Eret and I are more than just close friends since our childhood and that the whole betrothal is nothing but a charade to cover for us.”

Astrid could do little more than gape, her eyes wandering from Dagur to Eret and back again. They both looked heartbroken, hunched over and with their arms defensively crossed in front of them.

“Okay, but why’s that a problem?” Tuff commented after a few more uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I mean… it’s true? And it’s not as if that’s unheard-of; we have Freyr’s male Ástir for a reason, after all.”

With a heavy sigh, Eret raised his head to look at Tuff. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. But that didn’t make this day any easier. Every time we encountered some of the other men in the woods, they made comments about how I should be ashamed of myself for leading the Princess on like that. That I should openly stand to my preferences and tell her the truth, decline her choice, and leave her to someone who can truly satisfy her.”

“That’s a nice way to describe their insults,” Dagur scoffed angrily, but Eret just shrugged.

“It’s what it all boiled down to,” he replied, sounding tired. “And they’re right. I mean... Aside from Hiccup and this charade of a betrothal not being real anyway… It could have become real. And they would’ve been right; you’d deserve better than that, Swanja. Better than me.”

With the lump forming in her throat making it hard to say anything, Astrid made the few steps to cross the distance between them and sat down next to Eret on his bed. She wasn’t sure whether she was even capable of comforting him right now, but she at least had to try.

“Hey, don’t say that,” she said softly, reaching to squeeze his hand. “I… When I agreed to marry you, I knew about all this, remember? So whatever they said, it’s nothing but bullshit. And no matter how things are now… I rather would have spent my life with you, as my partner and best friend, than with any of those idiots who only see me as a trophy to be added to their glory.” Imagining a life where Hiccup didn’t exist felt weird. Wrong! But she also knew that what she’d just said was true. If it wasn’t for Hiccup, she would have gladly married Eret.

She wasn’t sure whether her words were able to help him though, or whether they would only make it worse instead. But after a short pause, Eret squeezed her back. “Thanks,” he muttered with a weak smile. “I just… well, I just hope that whoever Father might eventually pick as my wife will think the same. So maybe it’s even good that this cat is out of the bag now. It means whoever it might be will know what to expect right from the beginning.”

To that, Astrid wasn’t able to say anything. It was because of her that this was something to worry about again, and there was nothing she could do to help him there. But instead of letting the awkward silence linger, Eret shook his head and put on an almost scarily dark expression.

“But that’s not really the problem here,” he went on in a far graver voice than before. “The question is who started this ‘rumour’. And why now?” He motioned for her to sit down at the set table, gladly accepting her help to get up himself without straining his bound chest too much.

“Could it have been Heather?” she asked as she sat down on her seat, her worries over the other woman and how much harm she could do resurfacing again.

But Dagur vehemently shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. That was a secret she would have wanted to keep, in her own interest. With everyone now knowing that I’m not interested in women, me producing an heir to get her and her child off the hook became just that much more complicated.” He sighed. “And I have no idea who else could be behind this, either. I mean… we tried to not let anyone know but it certainly wasn’t an ironclad secret either. Everyone could’ve found out.”

Astrid wasn’t entirely convinced though. “Are you sure? There were quite a few people who knew, after all. Could anyone–”

“Maybe,” Eret interrupted her, though directly contradicted himself by shaking his head. “But I don’t think anyone here started that rumour, and I can’t see why Cami would do so, either.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before he continued in a darker tone. “And I don’t want to suspect Snot. He’s acting weird, but… we still know him, right? And I don’t see why he’d do it anyway. Certainly not to separate us; he knows that you know, after all. No, I don’t think he would go behind our backs like that. Especially not with him still being not allowed to get up anyway. He didn’t even have the chance to spread such a rumour without it being too easy to trace it back to him. Anyway,” he went on, noticeably aiming to change the topic and mood to something more cheerful. “People know, and we’ll have to deal with it from now on. Which doesn’t really change anything; it’s just annoying.”

Dagur huffed. “Yeah. Just as annoying as your grandfather making the effort to come and meet you this morning only to yell at you two. I’m just glad this circulating rumour hadn’t reached him yet. But who knows? Maybe he’ll have a heart attack once they do. That would make so many lives easier.”

At the mentioning of his grandfather, Eret winced and threw an apprehensive and apologetic look to the side – or, more precisely, to where Hiccup was leaning against the wall next to her. Astrid turned too, and easily spotted the pained grimace that crossed Hiccup’s face. Their grandfather… As far as Astrid knew, this had to have been the first time Hiccup even met the old goat with the old man also knowing who Hiccup was. And judging by his reaction, it hadn’t been a pleasant meeting.

Without even thinking about it, she reached for his hand, letting her thumb glide across his knuckles in a way to comfort him. “What did he want?”

Hiccup seemed to appreciate the gesture, squeezed her hand in his and even let something of a weak smile tug at his lips before he said anything. “He scolded Eret for choosing what had to be the worst squire in history,” he said in a low, but clear and almost emotionless voice. “‘It obviously was the fault of that failure that your armour wasn’t in a good-enough state to deflect the blow like good chainmail should. That idiot might as well have tried to kill you himself and he should get executed for his sloppy mistakes.’” he quoted, and let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t even deign to look at me or to talk to me directly.”

“And just like the old pigheaded asshole he’s always been, he didn’t even listen when I explained that that had only been my decorative armour anyway,” Eret grunted bitterly. “In opposition to all these noblemen who came here because your Father invited them and who knew about the upcoming tournaments, I didn’t bring my heavy battle armour from Eastervale when we came here last fall. That piece of ceremonial chainmail I was wearing was never meant to withstand such a blow, and we didn’t expect… Oh, whatever. He didn’t even want to listen to any of that anyway.”

“Yeah. You said that it wasn’t your good chainmail, and his response was ‘And whose fault is that!?’” Hiccup added, sounding pained.

“My father’s,” Astrid murmured.

Eret shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s not like we should have expected the armoury here to have chain in my size.” He flexed sarcastically, showing off his physique, and Astrid had to agree with the point; Eret was taller and broader in the chest than most men. “But let’s be honest here. This wasn’t about me,” he continued. “This was about him being upset that all of his dynastic game moves almost got wasted because his last playing piece got a dent. He wasn’t doing it to listen to anybody, just to vent his frustration that we’re not doing what he wants us to do, like good pawns.”

“Well, he never listens, does he?” Tuff threw in, mirth saturating his voice. “Although I’d love to make him listen, especially if someone told him about you and Dagur. Loki, I’d love to see his face.” He shared a dark grin with his sister, but quickly turned serious again, his gaze shifting to Astrid again.

“Anyway,” he went on, the changed tone of his voice and expression on his face showing that he was about to start an entirely different topic. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell the others, Astrid?”

For a heartbeat or three, she just blinked at him in puzzlement. But then, her mood brightened. “Right! There’s something I have to tell you,” she exclaimed at the reminder. The dark atmosphere had distracted her when she’d arrived, had made her focus on her friends’ – no, her family’s – problems instead of what lay ahead of them. But now, it was all back at the forefront of her mind.

Eagerly, she turned to look at the others again, her hand still holding Hiccup’s squeezing him. “I was lucky this morning,” she began, cheeks heating with excitement. “Tuff and I overheard a conversation between your fathers,” she nodded at Eret and Dagur. “Something about Ravenledge – the county, not the man. Apparently, the man who was supposed to become the new Count resigned – because it was too difficult a job for him, or something – and now, it’s back in the hands of Uncle Oswald and my father. If we can convince them to install Hiccup in that position, then that would be the solution, wouldn’t it?”

At first, all three men just gaped at her. They seemed to need a few moments to wrap their heads around this news, but Astrid couldn’t blame them; she was hardly able to believe in this simple solution either. And that was after she’d already had hours to think about it all.

“That… that could actually work,” Eret eventually muttered after a seemingly endless pause, something like cautious optimism swinging in his voice. “If Hiccup becomes a count, he automatically should become eligible for you, too. The only question is how we can convince them to–”

“I can use my boon for that,” Astrid interrupted him. Her gaze darted up to Hiccup, eyes filled with excitement. He knew that she was more than willing to use her father's promise in his favour. This was the solution they’d been searching for!

Hiccup was looking at her in return as well, but with a somewhat wavering expression instead of the hope she’d expected to see. As if he wanted to let that hope take over but didn’t quite dare to accept it.

Dagur seemed more confused though. “Uh, what boon?”

It took her some effort to tear her eyes away from Hiccup, from assuring him that this could work, and look at Dagur instead. “After… after Harold’s execution, my father granted me a wish,” she explained, grimacing at the renewed reminder. “A royal boon. He said I just need to name what I want and as long as it’s within his power, he’ll grant it to me. And I don’t see why naming Hiccup the new Count Ravenledge would not be in his power. Odin, from how it sounded, they even expected to have trouble finding someone who’d be willing to take this position.”

Eret nodded at her explanation, thoughtfully turning his attention to Hiccup. “What do you think?”

Hiccup’s eyes wandered from one waiting face to the other across the room. He still seemed hesitant though, reluctant even, and Astrid could read his thoughts as if he was saying them out loud. This is too good to be true!

She got up from her chair and turned toward him, heart singing when his hands glided around her waist practically on reflex. Capturing and holding his gaze, she tried to assure him that this was real. There wasn’t much to be misunderstood from the conversation she’d overheard, after all.

For an endless moment, they gazed at each other, silently communicating. Astrid didn’t need words to know what Hiccup was thinking and feeling, his love for her and the growing hope crystal clear in his eyes. He nodded ever so slightly, probably only visible to her, and his expression softened, his lips stretching into a cautious smile. “There was a time where I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with this solution,” he murmured, voice rough with emotions. Swallowing, he glanced past her to where Eret and Dagur had to be watching them. “I openly admit that I’d hoped to gain this title back when it was vacant a few months back. If… if things had been different that night, if I’d known you’d distribute the county right away, then I’d probably come up with some reason to stay. I would have tried to recommend myself as best I could, hoping…” He trailed off, his eyes gliding back to Astrid as he lifted one hand to caress her cheek.

She remembered that night, the first night she’d sneaked out to meet him at the stables. Missing out on those hours they’d spent together that night would have felt devastating back then… but if it had meant that he’d had that title already, it would have been worth it.

“But unrelated to that, I also wanted to gain this title, or any other, with my own means,” he continued in a low voice, his eyes back on her now. “ I wanted to prove myself worthy of you. But now, I know how stupid that was. Now, I won’t turn down such an opportunity. So yes, I’m okay with this idea. More than okay. I’d do anything to be with you, no matter whether it includes gaining a title without my doing or accepting any difficult circumstances that might follow.” He gave her a loving smile. “Because it will be worth it.”

From one moment to the other, Astrid felt as if every bit of space between them was too much, every thought about decency unimportant. Before she could think about it, she’d stretched, her mouth pressed to his and her hands on his back and in his hair pulling him even closer. This was it! They’d found their solution, the way to be together. This was really happening.

And it seemed as if Hiccup had accepted this truth now, too. He was kissing her back with equal eagerness, holding her close with one arm around her back and the free hand at the nape of her neck – still reflexively mindful of her hair as it seemed, but also unwilling to part from her anytime soon. From behind her, Astrid thought she could hear noises of amusement, chuckling and low voices talking, but she wasn’t in the mood to pay the others any mind. All she wanted to focus on was Hiccup, his body pressed so tightly against hers and his tongue dancing along her own, playful, teasing, joyous.

But it seemed as if at least one of those assembled in this room wasn’t quite as optimistic as the rest.

“When you listened in on my father and Uncle Eret,” Dagur asked, apprehensively but in a voice loud enough that it drew even her and Hiccup’s attention, “did they say anything about why exactly Lord Gregson resigned?”

Reluctantly, Astrid parted from Hiccup, though just enough to turn in his arms and give Dagur a thoughtful look. “I… don’t think so,” she said, her forehead wrinkled as she scoured her memories. “Just that there apparently were some reasons to it, but not what those were. Oh, and they said something about an… an elephant, but I don’t know what that was supposed to mean. Elephants are these weird animals in the Southlands, right? Big, with ridiculously large ears and noses?” She threw Hiccup a look and spotted his lips twitching. Clearly, he remembered how they’d looked at that book together, too. Especially the last pages.

“An elephant?” Dagur inquired, his brows furrowed. “That... Was that all they said?”

Astrid shrugged. “I… think so?”

But Tuff shook his head, drawing everyone’s attention when he pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. “No, that wasn’t all,” he said with a thoughtful expression. “I remember because it sounded so odd, as if it meant something completely different. So I memorised it to find out later. Lord Berserker said that ‘while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part’.”

Dagur’s face darkened. “That’s what I feared,” he grumbled.

Eret cocked his head, clearly intrigued by his lover’s reaction. “What is it, Dag? Does that mean anything to you?”

Dagur nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “A ‘White Elephant’ is something of an idiom we took over from the people of the Southlands,” he explained in a pressed voice. “It means it’s a… a trap, you can say. As in, they give the county to some rival they want to get rid off, knowing that the effort of rebuilding it will ruin them.”

From one moment to the other, Astrid’s good mood fell, her stomach feeling as if it was dropping down to her knees, not helped by Tuff nodding and mumbling something like, “When something looks too perfect, it probably sucks."

“So… so it’s not a sensible solution after all?” she asked meekly. All this had sounded too good to be true… did that mean it had been nothing but wishful thinking after all?

But Dagur shook his head, albeit reluctantly. “I… didn’t say that. I mean, let’s be honest, it’s not as if you have much to lose anyway. It’s not as if Hiccup would put some major fortune into this county or risk his high reputation if he wasn’t able to succeed.” He gave a harsh snort. “But I’ve read a few of the reports that came in from Ravenledge over the past weeks. The county really is in a horrible state. You’d have to rebuild the entire main city, along with some smaller ones, and that’s not even counting the long-term damage from the old count’s rule.” He started ticking off on his fingers. “You’d have to do all that without having the craftsmen nearby because they have no place to live or to work yet. And without being able to organise the work, because you don’t have any administration. Not even the Orders can be of any help with organising or manpower, because there are no central temples anymore. And in addition to all that, the people won’t easily trust yet another nobleman who comes to rule over them, especially not after Lord Gregson now gave up.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but...” He shrugged, looking grim.

Astrid felt the weight of Dagur’s words pressing down on them, noticeably dampening the good mood from only moments before. But before she could work through them and try to come up with reasonable objections, Ruff beat her to it. “Not trying to downplay the problems you just mentioned,” she said dryly. “But I think Hiccup and Astrid have an advantage your Lord Gregson didn’t have.”

Dagur cocked his head at her, puzzled. “And that would be what exactly?”

Ruff gave a snort. “Astrid is the Princess! It’s not just any other nobleman who comes to these people but the daughter of the King herself. That alone should give the people there a little hope, the trust that, this time, their problems get taken seriously. And I’d be surprised if the King wouldn’t send some more serious help in the form of goods and men and money when it comes down to ensuring his daughter’s future.”

“She’s right,” Eret threw in before anyone else could say anything, a grin on his face now as his eyes met Astrid’s. “And that’s not the only advantage you might have.” He took a moment to look from one to the other, his grin widening. “Remember what we talked about the other night? We might not be able to get Hiccup a title… But once he has one, we’re definitely in a position to support him. We’d still have to talk to our fathers, but I don’t think they’d be against drawing up trade contracts and assurances of support in advance. Hiccup might not have much to offer all on his own, but he sure as Hel has friends in powerful positions.”

Slowly, Dagur nodded. “That would make a difference, indeed,” he agreed, his face brightening. “It still won’t be easy, though. It’ll probably take years before something like normalcy or routine would come back to your life. Are you sure you’re feeling up to such a task and the responsibility?” he asked, his eyes firmly on Hiccup.

Hiccup nodded, though a little tense. “I’m prepared to take that kind of responsibility.” His eyes dropped to her, his lips forming a soft smile. “So yes. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

. o O o .

Oh, wow! Looks like there's an easy solution after all. 😇

Or... is there? *evil laughter in Author*

Next chapter

#FTLOAP #For The Love Of A Princess #Hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfiction #httyd #httyd fanfiction #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #fluff #romance

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