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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

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Warming Up

Cat Hybrid!Hongjoong x Female Reader

Word Count: 7518

Contents: hybrid au, rut/mating season, reader is referred to as a girl, lots of plot for no reason other than it was cute, hongjoong is a bit of a dumb little tsun who is easily flustered, dream sex (mirror, pet name (darling), slight degradation (whore), marking), sleepy reader is not the brightest bulb in the box, hongjoong is a tease, first time together, dry humping, sensitive ears, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, oral (female receiving), very slight hair pulling

Note: Okay this is a whole 18 DAYS LATE but HAPPY VERY BELATED BIRTHDAY @lustjoong this has been a long time coming. You are such a dream friend and it’s about a year now that we’ve been friends and I’m so happy about that. You bring so much light to my life and I so enjoy each and every word we share. I really hope you enjoy this gift also yes this is why i asked u about cum eating skjjadlhslkdj

Hongjoong’s ears twitched as he listened. He didn’t want to look like he was listening of course. He wanted to look unbothered because he was unbothered. So Seonghwa couldn’t keep him anymore, so what? He had to move, the city was bigger and the apartments were more expensive and he couldn’t afford the space and that was that. So Hongjoong was being dropped on someone else, on you. He didn’t care. If he really wanted to stay with Seonghwa that badly he could have tried out working more but that had never really panned out and a lot of places didn’t wanna hire a cat hybrid anyway.

Seonghwa said he would visit. That was fine. It wasn’t like Hongjoong needed that, he wasn’t a baby. He was a grown adult if he really wanted to strike out on his own he would. It was just easier in this world to live with someone. Seonghwa was nice and they got along well for the most part and he was comfy and familiar. He’d met you a few times but you were new and different and he didn’t really like that. It wasn’t that he was upset or anxious or any of that. It was just different from normal and he didn’t want to have to learn how to live with someone else, that was all.

None of this bothered him.

It was fine.

“I don’t think we forgot anything. I double and triple checked all my boxes to make sure he’d have all his stuff and-”

“Seonghwa,” you hushed him. “It’s fine. It’s not like you’re leaving the country, you’ll just be a couple of hours away. If you forgot anything you can bring it by when you visit, or we can buy new stuff.”

“I know but Hongjoong is… particular. You know I have another day or two on the lease. I could-”

“Seonghwa,” you grabbed his hands, chuckling. “It’s really okay. We’ll be fine. Right, Hongjoong?”

“Huh?” The cat hybrid looked up at you. Apparently he’d been tuning you out.

“We’ll be alright, right?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He muttered. “Can I take my stuff to my room?”

“Sure!” You tried to sound bright but you felt a little unsure. You’d met Hongjoong a handful of times. He seemed a little guarded and he wasn’t the easiest to get to know, but he had always at least been nice to you, pleasant. He seemed a little colder today, he seemed bored but was he really bored? You knew he and Seonghwa were close even if he wouldn’t admit it. Surly he felt something over the whole thing.

“He’s upset,” Seonghwa mumbled once Hongjoong was out of the room.

“Is he? He seems so… bored…”

Seonghwa sighed. “He does that when he’s upset. I know he doesn’t really love this idea but it’s the only option if he doesn’t want to go back to the shelter. And I’m not totally confident he can live on his own at the moment. He doesn’t cook much but when he tries to it always burns and I have to scrub it off the pans.”

“Duly noted,” you mumbled. “No cooking.”

“I think he could learn. And he might be happy if he lived alone but between you and me I think he’d get way too lonely. He won’t act like it at first but he gets really cuddly and sweet when he wants affection. And, oh god I almost forgot.” He dropped his voice, growing quieter. “If you get turned on around him, he’ll be able to smell it.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” You exclaimed.

“Shhh,” Seonghwa hushed you. “If he knows I’m talking about this… But you should know. It’s just a cat thing. It’s not too bad in the summer but in a month or so when fall comes around if you get worked up and he’s in the same room it’ll drive him nuts.”

“W-What does he do? I mean will h-he-”

“He won’t do anything,” Seonghwa said quickly. “He just-” A blush started creeping up his cheeks. “It’s harder for him to get over getting worked up, and he u-usually needs- o-or he uh- it’s good if you- uh- well anyway if it happens with someone else’s scent it just gets to him. And with you being a girl it’ll probably be worse s-so-”

“No watching porn around him, got it,” you said.

Seonghwa’s eyes went wide. “You just watch porn in the open?!”

“No, god no that was a joke,” you laughed. “Look, we’ll be okay. It’s not like I’m horny 24/7 so it’s all good. Besides I’m pretty sure he kinda hates me.”

“He- no he doesn’t. If anything he’s mad at me. You’re fine. Just… give him a chance to warm up to you and this whole thing. I promise you he’s really sweet when you get to know him.”

You glanced warily towards his bedroom. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The first week was, in a word, uneventful. Hongjoong was aloof. You weren’t sure at the moment if that was a cat thing or a Hongjoong thing. So far he hadn’t seemed to warm up to you at all. He barely spoke and spent most of his time in his room, though you did notice that the leftovers in the fridge had noticeable dents and he had left a few items in the bathroom. He was settling in, even if it was just a little bit.

You heard a door open, just barely making out the padding of his feet down the hallway. You didn’t move, listening and watching out for the corner of your eye as you sat on the couch. You saw him slip into the kitchen and listened to the fridge door opening, then closing, then the microwave running. He usually waited until you were out of the living room to get food.

You got up slowly and made your way towards the kitchen, peeking around the corner. Predictably, Hongjoong had heard you. He stood stock still, even as the microwave beeped, the counter reaching zero. The only things that moved were his ears, flicking back and listening to you.

“H-How are you doing?” Your voice was less certain than you wanted it to be.

“Fine,” he said simply.

“That’s good,” you tried to sound bright and happy. “I know this is a bit of an adjustment.”

Hongjoong finally relaxed just a little, opening the microwave, if slowly.

“I’m fine. Seonghwa doesn’t have room in the new place and you do. It makes sense.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the door frame. “You’re really okay with it all? I know it uprooted a lot for you an-”

“I’m fine.” He said flatly. “It’s not like he kicked me out or told me he hates me. It’s money and space. It’s fine. He’s just a friend anyway.”

“He is? I thought you two were closer o-or…” you words trailed off as Hongjoong’s tail started to flick and a blush crept up his cheeks.

“He was more like a roommate really,” he said defensively. “I’m going to go eat.” Hongjoong took his food as you tried to find something to say, but he clearly didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You bit down on your lip as he slammed his door shut.

You had done a fantastic job of putting your foot in your mouth.

“Hey.”

You looked up from where you sat on the couch. Hongjoong had barely talked to you in the last two weeks. You weren’t totally sure what you had said that upset you but you had apologized nonetheless. He didn’t respond from within his room at the time but he did start coming out while you were out and he said hello when you did first at least. But it was still unusual for him to talk to you directly.

“Hi,” you said, putting down your phone. “What’s up?”

Hongjoong shrugged, trying to look unbothered but his ears were partially flattened to his head, the tip of his tail flicking. “I just wanted to know if I could sit out here.”

“Of course,” you smiled, scooching over to leave more room on the couch. “Have a seat.”

“You don’t have to stop what you’re doing,” he mumbled, curling into a ball on the far end of the couch.

“Alright,” you hummed, grabbing your phone but keeping your eye on him.

The longer you two sat there the more he relaxed. He let his legs extend on the couch, resting back and idly curling and uncurly his fingers as he watched videos on his phone. You tried not to move around too much, typing on your laptop and checking your phone, getting up and offering him water at one point which he accepted.

But the evening wore on and you found yourself more and more weary over time. Yawns slipped past your lips and it made you giggle when Hongjoong yawned as well, ears pressing back and then coming up, his tail curled comfortably around himself until he heard your giggle, perking up.

“I yawned then you did,” you chuckled. “I don’t know about you but I think I’m ready for bed.”

“O-Oh, yeah,” he mumbled.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Hongjoong’s cheeks started to blush pink. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. You’re right it’s late I-”

“Hongjoong,” you said gently. “I know we’re not close or anything but you know you can tell me if you have an issue, especially with things to do with living here. It is my responsibility to deal with it.”

“It’s stupid,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to go wash up-”

“I was talking to Seonghwa,” you said quickly. “He said you’re not used to spending this much time alone.”

“What does he know,” Hongjoong said quickly. “It’s not lik-”

“Hongjoong,” you cut him off. “I know you probably don’t wanna say it but just so you know, it’s okay if you’re lonely. I won’t make fun of you for that.”

Hongjoong’s face was cherry red. “I-I’m not!?!”

“I-” You sighed. “It’s just- If you get lonely, it’s okay. That’s all.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, stalking back to the bedroom as you buried your face in your hands. You swore every time you tried to make him more comfortable you made it ten times worse.

You let Hongjoong finish in the bathroom, hearing his door slam before you got ready for bed. Part of you thought of asking Seonghwa what to do but you didn’t want to make him feel bad about the whole thing. You knew he already felt bad about not being able to stay with Hongjoong. You dragged yourself through your evening routine, finally flopping into bed and finding yourself restless and unable to really sleep.

Were you ever going to be able to be able to get to know him without saying something dumb? He barely talked to you and you messed it up every time he did get comfy. You were worried that he hated it here or he hated you and for a few hours things had been good. There had to be a way to get to know him and get him more comfortable.

A knock at your door had you sitting up suddenly in bed.

“Come in,” you called.

Hongjoong poked his head in. “Can I sleep here?”

You stared at him in surprise, taking a few moments to take in his request before realizing he was blushing more and more as he waited for your response.

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

Hongjoong mumbled out a “thanks” as he shuffled into the room, closing the door behind him. He cautiously climbed into the other side of the bed and rolled to face away from you. You tried to shake off your shock as you laid back down.

“Well, good night.”

“You were right,” he mumbled.

You looked over at his back. “Huh?”

“I get lonely, sometimes.”

A smile tugged to your lips. “Yeah, me too.”

“Hey Hongjoong?” You queried, looking up from your book. Hongjoong’s ears perked up even if he didn’t look up. You’d learned that he did that a lot, it was his way of showing he was listening to you, turning his ears in your direction. More and more you had been talking with him. He was getting more comfy with you as the weeks went by and it was finally starting to feel like you were friends.

“Do you do random cat things?”

His head flicked up to look at you from his spot on the couch. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I noticed when you’re really sleepy you do that thing that cats do where they curl in their little toes and then stretch them out. You do it with your hands.” You kept going as the blush rushed up Hongjoong’s cheeks. “Do you do other stuff like that? Like do you play with yarn? Do you run after laser pointers? Do you get up and run around at 3am and I just never hear you? Can you meow?”

“I- I don’t do that with my hands!?!” He said indignantly.

You giggled. “You do, and it’s cute. Don’t worry I’ve only seen it a couple of times. But I wanna know if you do other things like that.”

“N-No?!”

“Okay,” you hummed, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“Why are you grinning?! Stop grinning!” He cried.

“No reason,” you said, tossing out a ball of yarn from where you were hiding it next to you.

“I’m not gonna play with that.” Hongjoong deadpanned. “I’m still a person you know.”

“I know,” you said, still grinning. “But there’s no temptation at all?”

“None.”

“Okaie dokie.” You grabbed the laser pointer from the pocket and shone it against the wall.

“I’m not gonna chase it!” He cried.

“Then it won’t bother you if I leave it on.”

Hongjoong looked between you and the laser shining on the wall before huffing and burying himself in his phone again. But his eye kept darting to the wall, his tail flicking and body shifting. After a few minutes he got up and moved to sit next to it against the wall. You grinned as he flicked at the spot and tried to grab it.

“I knew it!” You laughed, turning off the laser. Hongjoong hissed at you as he moved back to the couch.

“I wasn’t chasing it. I know it’s just a light. It’s just annoying I just did that to make you turn it off.”

“Of course you did,” you hummed. “Hey, can you purr?”

He gave you a glare. “I’m not purring for you, especially when you’re being so annoying.”

“So you can purr,” you grinned. “Who do you purr for?”

“N-No one,” he stumbled, blushing again. “It’s barely even a thing.”

You regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Can I try?”

“Try and what?”

“Make you purr.”

Hongjoong’s face went red. “W-Why would you want to?”

“I just wanna hear it,” you said. “I like when cats purr, I wanna know what it sounds like. I mean if you’re all embarrassed about it that’s okay.”

“I-I’m not embarrassed,” he hissed. “It’s just a thing cats do. Why would it embarrass me?”

“It’s okay Hongjoong,” you said, trying not to grin. “I get it, it makes you flustered.”

“N-No? I-If you wanna try whatever. If you figure it out yay for you I guess.”

You clambered across the couch gleefully. The blush stayed on Hongjoong’s cheeks as you pulled him closer while he played with his phone and started playing with his hair. He did his best to ignore you but you could tell from the way his tail swayed that he liked the contact. You relaxed, running your fingers through his hair and petting his head.

A light touch on his ear had it flicking forward and had him jumping and letting out a yelp. You pulled you hand back quickly as he twisted to look at you.

“Your ears are so soft,” you hummed.

“Yeah w-well,” he mumbled. “They’re sensitive, so be careful.”

“I will,” you said, “Of course I will.” You let your hand come out to play with his hair again, waiting for him to relax before you found the base of his ear and scratched at it.

Hongjoong let out a “mreow” and a deep rumble started to emanate from his chest.

His hand was quick to push yours away as you gasped and he crawled back the corner of the couch.

“There, you heard it. Happy now?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “Thanks for showing me.”

Hongjoong blushed harder as he hid behind his phone. “Yeah yeah whatever.”

Hongjoong sleeping in your bed had become a regular occurrence. As the weather started to cool and fall set in he was there more and more. Since the first week, asking each night if he could sleep in the same room, and then just slipping in quietly. He talked to you more and seemed a little more relaxed around you and that made you happy.

Tonight you smiled to yourself when you found him already curled up under the sheets. You weren’t surprised, he’d gone out with friends during the day and seemed exhausted and maybe a little tipsy when he got back. Him getting to bed early wasn’t too surprising. When he first moved in you thought he stayed up late in his room but it turned out he went to bed early and slept in late.

You climbed into bed quietly, noticing his ears and nose twitching. It didn’t matter how quietly you moved his senses were too good. He stirred slightly and you tried to settle in smoothly and quickly so he could get back to sleep.

Hongjoong mumbled something you couldn’t make out. When you turned your face to look at him he was reaching out towards you. His hands were making grabbing motions and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. You had only seen him do it a few times but when he was half asleep, his hands kneading the air like cat’s paws.

“Cuddles,” a pout formed on Hongjoong’s lips as he mumbled and you felt heat rise in your face as you realized what he was asking.

“Hongjoong?” You asked softly. He grumbled again, tail flicking and hands grabbing at the air as he sleepily opened an eye.

“Cuddles,” he grumbled, clearly still half asleep.

“A-Alright,” you stumbled, shifting closer to him. As soon as you were within reach he wrapped himself around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Warm,” he purred sleepily.

“Very warm,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him. “Goodnight.”

All you got in response was the loud rumbling purr emanating from Hongjoong’s chest as you settled and drifted off into a dream.

Hot breath fanned out against your ear and your fingers pressed into the cool glass of the mirror. Hongjoong’s hips snapped into yours quickly, building the pleasure in your core. You felt his wet fingers move from their ministrations on your clit and seconds later they gripped your jaw firmly.

Your eyes snapped open and you felt heat rush to your face as took in his intense gaze, meeting yours in the mirror.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, darling,” he purred. “You look so pretty when I fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, feeling shy and all the more turned on as you tried to look away but he kept your gaze trained at the sight of yourself getting fucking against the mirror.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you have my fingers in your mouth, just the way you want my pretty little whore.”

You let your eyes trail over yourself, heat rising through your body at the sight, his arm around you and his cock sinking into your heat over and over, sending a wave of pleasure through you each time. You took in the sight of the hickies all across your chest and felt the way he smirked against the skin of your neck as you clenched around him at the sight of yourself.

His fingers came to your lips and you sucked them in eagerly, head feeling even more hazy as you did so.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

You woke up feeling very warm. Your eyes blinked open blearily and you felt the soft ear flicking against your chin. Slowly, the memories of the night, and then your dream, trickled into your brain as Hongjoong came into your sleepy view. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, ears and nose twitching as he clung onto you, apparently having cuddled with you all night.

You let your hand rub his back slowly as you closed your eyes again. Maybe it was being so close to someone so warm and feeling someone next to you but your dreams had been anything but innocent. Could you fall back asleep? It would be so nice to sink back into those wonderful, heated images. A quiet sigh passed your lips as you pressed your thighs together, enjoying the feeling of Hongjoong’s weight and warmth on top of you and running through the images from the dream in your mind.

Slowly, Hongjoong started to stir. You let your hand travel up to his hair and run though it. The action was calming for you and you hoped in your sleepy brain that it woke him gently as his ears and tail started to twitch and flick more. His hands grabbed onto your shirt and he pressed his face into your neck as he woke, a quiet mew leaving his lips and quiet purrs emanating from his chest as he came too.

“Morning,” you hummed sleepily. Hongjoong answered with a groan, pressing tightly against you. You scratched at the base of his ear, and heard his purring grow louder. His hand found your hip, thumb slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin soothingly. This wasn’t his usual behaviour, but you were sleepy and warm and it was so comforting to cuddle someone, especially someone who made such a wonderful, calming purring sound.

“What did you dream about?” Hongjoong’s voice was rough as the words left his lips, ghosting over the skin of your neck. The sounds sent a rush of arousal through your body. You felt heat rise to your skin as the images flashed on the back of your eyelids.

“I don’t remember,” you lied.

Hongjoong nuzzled his nose against your neck. “Are you sure about that?”

Did he know? Was your skin too hot? Did you moan in your sleep and somehow give it away? He couldn’t read your mind but he wasn’t buying it so he had to have some hint. You squirmed a little, pressing your thighs further together and trying to keep your breathing even.

“Nope,” you hummed, a little too high. You knew it sounded like you were lying now.

Hongjoong purred a little louder, lips trailing over the skin of your neck and up to your jaw. “I don’t believe you.”

“W-Why not?” Your voice started to betray you.

“Come on,” he purred. “I know Seonghwa told you about it. He doesn’t realize how good my ears actually are.”

You tried to reach back through your groggy memories, your brain was still sleepy and didn’t want to work too hard. But he knew something, what had Seonghwa told you that would explain this? You knew there had to be something but your sleepy brain didn’t want to think or try to remember. Meanwhile the way he was gripping your hip and running his nose along your neck was only turning you on more.

“Did you forget?” His voice was not helping matters and you pressed your legs together again as another shiver of arousal ran through your body. Hongjoong let out a groan, ear flicking against your jaw and tail swishing across the covers. “Or are you playing dumb?”

You felt your face getting even hotter. You weren’t play dumb, at least not on purpose. Your brain was being taken over with lust and was already sleepy. A small squeal left your lips as Hongjoong shifted over you, his thigh pressing between your legs. His hands found yours and he laced his fingers with yours before pressing your hands into the bed. Your gaze met his and you finally took in the hunger and lust in his eyes.

“You know I can smell it, right?”

Heat rushed through your body and to your face as you realized. The embarrassment washed through you and yet, you still only felt more turned on. You tried to press your legs together again, ending up squeezing them around Hongjoong’s thigh as you finally tore your gaze away from his.

“I-I forgot,” you mumbled, squirming under him. The way his fingers were laced with yours was so sweet but the way he held them down was only making you feel hotter. Hongjoong let his head dip, purring and nuzzling his face into your neck before pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“This is going to drive me nuts,” he murmured. “But I can leave you alone.” Your brain tried desperately to process everything through the ever increasing lust cloud but your body had a mind of its own. As Hongjoong started to pull back you squeezed his hands, not letting them go. He gave you a curious look, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You felt your face burning but you tried to let your words out before your brain caught up to them potentially being a bad idea. “I-I- You could? I-I mean I’m- um- and Seonghwa s-said you- it- that it’s harder i-if…”

A blush crept up Hongjoong’s cheeks and his tail flicked as his gaze dipped away from yours and he squirmed a little. “R-Right. Yeah it- uh- it’ll be a long day if I-” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. If that’s that only reason-”

“It’s not.” The words were just on their way out of your mouth on their own now. Hongjoong’s ears perked up and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Did you dream about me?” He teased.

“N-No?!” You stuttered. “I-I- it was just- you- but- n-n-”

Hongjoong chuckled, pressing closer to you again, the tip of his nose pressed to yours. He was supposed to be the needy one, how was he making you flustered so fast?

“I think you did,” he murmured.

“I-I-”

“You can tell me. Don’t you think I should know if my roommate is having dirty dreams about me?” He teased.

“I-I It wasn’t- Why w-would I-” the heat on your body only rose as he moved, lips trailing lightly over your jaw before brushing against your ear.

“I mean if it wasn’t about me then I could just go,” he murmured. “I can leave you alone to get back to your dream world… if you don’t want the real thing.” He pulled his hands away from yours.

You gripped Hongjoong’s shirt strongly and whined at him. You heard his breathy chuckle in your ear as you pulled him a little closer, not wanting him to go but not wanting to admit that you wanted him to stay. You squeezed your eyes shut, only getting more embarrassed by your actions and more turned on at the same time.

“D-Don’t…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you wanted. A much louder whine tore itself from your lips as Hongjoong sat up, resting back on his heels. He smirked down at you, tail flicking curiously as he let his hands trail down your sides, moving them out of reach of yours when you tried to grab at them. You jutted out your bottom lip at him and he chuckled.

“If you want something you have to ask,” he teased. “Otherwise how will I know?”

The way the frustration twisted your gut somehow only turned you on even more. You squirmed a little under his gaze, trying to decide if you actually wanted to say anything while knowing full well that you didn’t want him to go anywhere, and if you said nothing he might just actually leave.

You reached out to him cutely. “Please?”

“Please, what?” He grinned.

Heat licked at your skin. “P-Please stay. I don’t…” your own embarrassment was trying to get the better of you and dropped your gaze from his as you trailed off. Hongjoong leaned down swiftly and started to leave kisses against your jaw, hands finding your waist.

“You don’t…?” he murmured.

“I-I don’t- I don’t want you to go,” you mumbled, arms wrapping around him.

Hongjoong lifted his face just enough to look at you, but his expression was sweeter, less smug. “Then I won’t go, I’d rather stay anyway.”

He finally leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. Your heart melted a little at how soft his kisses were. He was gentle in bringing his hips down against yours, rolling them slowly. You let out a little sigh against his lips, pulling him closer and letting your fingers play through his hair slowly. You would think by now you would be wide awake, but you still felt sleepy and his warmth and weight on top of you felt so nice.

Hongjoong slowly deepened the kisses, his tongue pressing cautiously against your bottom lip before moving into your mouth. You pulled him in even closer, one of your legs wrapping around him of its own accord. Hongjoong let out a small mewl which had your lips tugging into a grin as you tried not to giggle at him.

His hips ground down a little more strongly as your fingers moved through his hair. You brought them to the base of his ear and rubbed them gently, feeling the soft fur under your fingers.

Hongjoong let out whiny meow as he shuddered, dropping his face down against your neck. You grinned to yourself, still playing with him and feeling him squirm, his hips bucking against you as he tried to hold in his mewls, eventually flicking his ear away from your touch.

“Th-They’re sensitive,” he panted.

“I know,” you hummed. “Does it feel good?”

Hongjoong whined in response, keeping his face hidden against your skin. He cautiously flicked his ear back to find your hand again and you grinned, petting and scratching at the base of his ear again. He did his best to muffle his sounds against your skin, shifting so he was fully between your legs and rutting into you more quickly.

Soft sighs fell from your own lips. You were getting needier by the second and you knew now that he could smell it. Your hips tried to roll and grind up to meet his movements, fingers moving a little faster and his own hips getting a little more sporadic. His whines were growing louder despite his effort until he flicked his ear away again, lifting his head to look at you. His face was all flushed, a cute rose tint on his cheeks.

“Can we- c-can I?”

“N-Not right away!” You stammered, internally wincing at how that would hurt.

Hongjoong went redder. “I know that,” he mumbled. “But can I- we- move on?”

You grinned a little shyly and nodded. From Seonghwa’s warning you were aware this could happen but you had somehow not really considered it until now. Somewhere in your mind you thought you would simply never get horny all winter and that would be the solution, not that you knew he was going to sleep in your bed or cuddle with you but still.

It was ever so slightly nerve wracking.

Hongjoong pressed kisses to your neck sweetly as his fingers found the waistband of your pajamas. You lifted your hips a little and let him pull them off along with your panties, pressing the side of your face into your pillow as your cheeks burned again until you felt Hongjoong’s lips on your jaw, coaxing you to turn your mouth towards him.

You did so slowly, letting his lips meet yours in much needier kisses. Still, his fingers were gentle as they trailed over your lower stomach and to the tops of your thighs. Slowly he coaxed your thighs apart with his fingers, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he went, moving along the sensitive skin until you started you push your hips up towards his hand. You felt him smile against your lips.

“Do you want more?” He asked, his tone mostly sweet but a little teasing.

“Hongjoong,” you whined and he chuckled, dropping his lips next to your ear again.

“I already admitted I want more,” this time his tone was much more sweet, almost bashful.

“Yes,” you mumbled quietly, “I-I want more.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips while his fingers finally moved where you wanted them, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. You moaned quietly into his kisses as your hips followed the flow of his fingers. Your arms wound around him, fingers tangling into his hair and holding him close as you kissed him and his ministrations only made you wetter.

The pleasure started to slowly build in your core. The grinding hadn’t been nearly enough friction and the movements of his fingers were much more welcome. Pleasure sparked from your core and curled through you, drawing heat through your body that had your kisses growing more feverish bit by bit.

Hongjoong kept shifting and moving, eventually starting to shift your thighs apart a little more. His lips drew away from yours but before you could look at him he dropped his face into your neck, though what you could see of the edges of his face was blushing.

“Can I grind against your thigh?” He mumbled quietly, fingers slowing down a little.

You let out a slight giggle. “Weren’t you already grinding on me?”

“Y-Yeah? I just- it…” You heard the confidence waver in his voice and you were quick to grab his cheeks and bring his face up to meet yours.

“Yes, you can,” you hummed before giving him a kiss and keeping him there. His skin was hot to the touch, no doubt from the blushing and it made you smile a little. It felt kind of nice to know you weren’t alone in the slight nerves you were feeling, even if excitement did override it. Hongjoong started to relax into your touch again. You heard his tail swishing against the sheets as his hips came down, rutting against your thigh.

Small mewls and moans fell from his lips, swallowed by your kisses as his hand traveled lower. Your legs opened wider instinctively as his fingers teased at your entrance, fingers tangled into his hair telling him you wanted more so your words didn’t have to. Your hips pressed up towards his hand, urging his fingers to dip inside you and you were a little thankful that he didn’t tease you and make you even more flustered.

A moan that you couldn’t muffle, even with kisses, fell from your lips as he sunk two fingers into your heat. Your hips rolled up against his fingers, urging them deeper as you tried to capture his lips in another kiss but he pulled back just a bit. When you opened your eyes you felt heat rush through your body and clenched around his fingers at the heated expression on his face.

Hongjoong bit down on his lower lip as he started to move his fingers. The movements themselves were a little sloppy and unsure but you were too wrapped up in the darkening of his gaze and the feeling of finally having something inside of your needy core to care. You felt your skin burning as he gazed at you, at once wanting to look away and wanting to keep watching him, taking in the way his eyes devoured your expression and watched your features start to twist in pleasure.

His hips moved more roughly against your thigh, almost as if chasing his own high as he curled and thrust his fingers into you. He was a quick learner, ears perking and twitching every time you moaned louder and trying to repeat the action as the pleasure grew inside of you.

His fingers moved a little faster and you felt your hips starting to buck up into his hand more, your body begging for more all on it’s own. He only slowed down a little to press a third finger in, stretching you out even more and quickly finding that heavenly spot inside of you to curl his fingers into again.

Your head fell back as the coil in your core twisted tighter and you got closer and closer to your release. You tried in vain to get his hand against your clit as well, growing more and more desperate for just that little bit more. Moans fell from your lips with less and less abashment every passing second. Your hands had fallen away from his body and were gripping the pillow under your head as your hips jolted and bucked up, chasing the sensation of his fingers and starting to clench around them more and more.

Hongjoong cursed under his breath and pulled his fingers from your core. It drew a whine from your lips as you blinked your eyes open to see Hongjoong sitting up. He slipped his fingers into his mouth and groaned, his eyes rolling back before closing as he started to shuffle out of his sweats with his other hand.

You held in your whines as you watched him, only feeling more heated at the sight as he licked and sucked your juices from his fingers. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth and you squirmed impatiently, wanting more with no desire to wait.

“Hongjoong,” you whimpered. his ears flicked towards you and you lost the words that were ready to leap off your tongue as he opened his eyes slowly, pure lust filling his gaze. A gasp left your lips as he pounced over you, gaze drinking you in. You pressed back into the mattress, feeling yourself dripping and clenching around nothing as his hands pulled at your shirt to get it off.

He dipped his head down and dragged his nose along the skin of your neck, breathing in deeply before letting out a groan. He shifted only to pull off his own shirt before settling between your legs. You let your head tilt back as he kissed slowly along your neck, hands coming up and fingers lacing with yours as you rolled his hips against you slowly and you let out a shaky breath.

Hongjoong’s lips came up to brush against yours. “Please,” he moaned, his tail flicking in the edges of your vision.

You nodded as he pulled his face back just enough to look at you. One hand left yours, moving between your bodies. He kept his eyes on you and you felt your face burn as he pushed into you slowly, drawing a gasp from your lips. You felt your eyelids flutter but kept your gaze on him as he moved slowly, sinking deeper into you, panting harder than you were.

His hand came back to yours, fingers lacing with yours again as he rolled his hips in a slow, deep thrust. Your eyes fell closed as you let out a moan and Hongjoong’s face fell to your chest, ears tickling your chin. He let out low groans as he moved his hips, picking up speed more and more until he built to a steady pace.

Your moans mixed with his own noises in the hot air as the pleasure built more and more, bringing you to your edge but not quite falling over it. You felt the coil in your core curled incredibly tight, pleasure rushing through you from each thrust. Your hips moved with his as best they could as you gripped at his back and tried to hold him closer.

Small curses fell off Hongjoong’s lips as he moved even faster, starting to chase his own high as his lips kissed feverishly at your neck. Gasps and moans fell from your own lips and your legs tightened around his sides from the feelings, each wave of pleasure and the way he sucked harshly on your neck, leaving dark marks blossoming along your skin.

“Y-You feel s-so good,” his voice was unsteady and rough as he spoke as he came so close to being unravelled.

You answered him with moans and digging your fingers into his back, pulling him as close as you could. A series of “please” fell from your lips, your mind only focused on falling over that edge as you started to clench around him, thighs shaking.

Hongjoong let out a loud, beautiful mewl as he came, hips starting to a stop, much to your needy body’s chagrin. You clenched around him as he released inside you, his body trembling and his hands squeezing yours as he panted. You slowly caught your breath as he finished, his face coming up to meet yours and a puzzled expression coming over his when he saw your frown.

“What…” colour rushed to his face as he realized and he quickly hid his face again.

“I’m sorry,” he whined.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, pushing down your slight annoyance. “I can just-”

“N-No!” His face snapped up to look at yours but he winced at his own tone. “I-I mean- let me… please?”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded to him. Hongjoong pulled out of you gently and his hands left yours as he started to kiss down your body. You met his gaze and found sweetness in his eyes, tail swishing as he kissed over your stomach and to your hips before settling between your legs. His lips found your thighs and the purring rumbling from his chest calmed you as he pressed kisses to your skin.

He bit his lip when he pulled back for a moment, looking at your core. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and heat rose through your body as he stared before he quietly murmured. “That’s so hot,” more to himself than you.

His tongue peeked out and he left a little lick along your core, and then another, each time gathering some of his own cum on his tongue. The licks each made you gasp, your body so sensitive, thighs already trembling and core clenching and pushing out more cum with each lick.

Hongjoong moaned against your core, tongue curling into your heat more feverishly, taking in your juices mixing with his cum on his tongue. Your hand found a way to his hair and he gave you a sweet gaze as he lapped at you, not wanting to waste a drop. His hands gripped your thighs and you let out moans and shuddering breaths with each movement of his tongue.

Your eyelids grew heavy and your gaze hazy as you got so close to your release again. Your thighs pressed around his head as much as his hands would allow as pleasure tied tight in your core. Your grip in his hair got stronger as you held him against your core, “pleases” falling off your lips.

Hongjoong’s ears twitched against your hand, intently listening to your moans as his tongue dragged up over your clit. He started to lick at it quickly, drawing gasps from you as your hips started to buck up and he moved his arm to hold them down. Moans fell off his lips and vibrated through your core as his tongue moved quickly, finally drawing you over your edge.

You cried out, back arching off the bed as you came hard. Your thighs fully crashed in around his head and he let out a slight whimper at the way you pulled on his hair as the pleasure crashed through your body. You felt the sensation rush through you from your core to the tips of your fingers and toes as the feeling sucked you into calm bliss.

Hongjoong moved out from between your legs. He wiped his chin off before crawling on top of you and resting his head on your chest, the loudest purr you’d ever heard from him coming from his chest. He nuzzled his cheek into your skin as his ears flicked affectionately against your chin.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

You giggled. “I’m the one who woke up all horny and made you horny.”

“Yeah but it’s not like you had to- w-well anyway- that was nice-”

“It sounds like it,” you rubbed your fingers in a small circle on his back over where his purr was coming from and he hid his face in your neck.

“Don’t make fun of my purring,” he whined.

“I’m not,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. ��I’m really not. It sounds so nice. So comforting.” A yawn left your lips.

“Do you want to nap for a bit?” He mumbled, sounding hopeful.

“Yes please,” you murmured.

#omg im sorry this is so late #it got too long #i really hope u like it uwu #ateez smut #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong imagines #kim hongjoong smut #also i hope you all like this #its been a while since i posted

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celestialmango · 3 years

Text

(an anon sent me a prompt a while ago that caught my interest and I tweaked it a little so I wouldn't get writers block and get stuck but honestly whoever you are anon, great job👍, I loved it but it just took awhile for creative juices to flow so I could write it out.)

Soft vore, stuffing, unwilling Prey, ambiguous ending, reader insert, fatal mentions.

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

Holy shit, you shiver in fear at the knowledge just given to you by the college staff, you shouldn't have signed up for the dorms fuck what do you do? You don't know but you don't have a choice now, you chosen a college far from home and didn't have the money to rent a place. You can see pity on the staffs face as if they know they signed your death warrant. You take a deep breath, stand up and leave.

You don't have a choice, you can't afford to go anywhere else, you were just assigned to be the roommate of a well-known upper class man Pred on campus, as you slowly walk a down the path to the main dorm you feel you have to think, what do you do? as you enter the building....you have an idea, it might be dumb, might not even work but if a plan like this might help you survive you have to at least try it right? You clap your hands and pray to whatever deities are out there that this will work.

You walk down the hall to your assigned dorm room and knock on the door, after a moment it opens and you're face to face with a gurgling bulge of a stomach, you try not to let it phase you as you look up at the towering form rubbing the back of their neck before they look down at you, before the can do anything you play your cards 'o-oh wow you're tall! Hi I'm (y/n)!' you say with an innocent friendly smile 'the dorm manager assigned me as your roommate, from the sound of it you sound pretty hungry which is great! I wanted to invite you out to a buffet I saw on my bus ride to campus for lunch, my treat!' you look at them expectantly waiting for a reply after your word vomit.

After a few minutes of silence and them just staring down at you begin to fidget in place, they just blink at you slowly, looking as if they're debating some as they lift a hand to their mouth and yawn, you fidget a bit more nervously as you see how wide their maw can stretch and see their sharp canines dripping with saliva before their hand drops and their jaw relaxes. Their other hand finds it's way to the back of your shirt and they bring you inside the room before dropping you on a giant beanbag chair, they yawn again "Nnnn fuck it sure, give me a minute, I gotta put on some pants."

Phase one of plan play dumb success! The staff members said your roommate would eat you as soon as they opened the door, but instead you convinced them to a buffet instead, you take your chance to look around the room and your smile drops a little into a look of concern and confusion. There's only one bed. After getting dressed the come out of a bathroom and see your face "what's with you?" They ask sounding a little hostile, you respond by letting your face flush and scratching your cheek with a finger 'u-um well.' their eyes are gazing at you like a hawk 'there's only one bed in the room, this college doesn't really make roommates share a bed do they?' the Predator responds with an unnerving grin "most of my roommates don't last long."

Deflect! Deflect and act cute! You smile at them innocently again and tilt your head 'oh? Did they get kicked out for some reason or something?' their grin gains an aura of menace. "Or something." You put a hand on your chin in thought, 'by the way how do we get to town from campus? Do you have a car or will we be taking a bus to buffet.' their grin drops as they pause for a moment raising their eyebrow, "do you honestly think someone my size can fit in a car? Because the answer is no." You just grin at them 'guess I'll be paying for bus passes too then' they shake their head "naw, the college provides monthly passes, now come on, we'll want to hurry because the next one will leave soon." You look startled before you leap up, 'ok'.

You have trouble keeping up with them as you both run so they quickly turn back pick you up and tuck you under their arm before rushing to the bus stop, they really want that free food you offered, a chance to pig out that they don't have to pay for sounds great to them.

-----------

To saw you were surprised at how much $5 at a buffet could stretch was an understatement, barely half an hour and a tower of plates was stacked on the table you two sat at and as the pred finished their final plate a well dress person came up and banned you both from coming back, as you both stood on the sidewalk you spoke with a stunned look on your face 'i didn't know it was possible to get kicked out of an all you can eat buffet' the pred patted at their large gut "yeah, pity. I'm not even full yet." They pause looking like they're thinking about something again when you spoke again 'what? Seriously? You ate out the entire buffet.' they look towards you again with a strange gaze that you don't even notice and answer.

"I could go for more." You don't even see them reach for you before you turn to them with a mischievous grin while ask them an question that interests them greatly 'wanna see how many buffets we can banned from in a day?' they hesitate, the hand they were about to snatch you up freezes for a second before it reaches down to pat your shoulder instead as they give you a wide grin and an enthusiastic reply "hell yeah." And off you both went to cause as much chaos as possible before you had to go back to campus.

-----

A few hour later and they can barely squeeze themselves out of the doors of the bus as you return to campus, their gut bulging out so large it look as if they ate a moose, the both of you laughing '-i mean the look on that guys face when you snatched up and ate an entire turkey whole as they chased us out was priceless' "pfft yeah but what about the other guy when I ran out of the kitchen with that pot of soup a chugged it?" You both walk towards the dorm 'he looked like he was about to faint! That was right off the stove! Like boiling hot! How in the world did that not burn like you were drinking lava?' "heat resistance is a wonderful thing" they reply grinning from ear to ear.

After they open the door and you're about turn to leave to talk to staff about finishing the dorm paperwork their hand presses against your back a shove you into their room, you don't see a dark look flash across their face for a moment before disappearing, there is an unnerving tone to their voice that gives no room for argument as they speak "hey now, how about we spend a bit more time together?" It doesn't sound like a question but more like an order. Afraid and nervous about what may happen if you say no, you agree.

They hand you a controller and ask in a voice, as if they know exactly how the words sound

"Wanna smash?" 'Hah' you can't help the laugh that comes out, you shouldn't have told them about your weakness to dirty jokes.

----

Time passes fast as you play smash bros together for a while then move on to more multiple play games, you keep noticing they way they glance at you sometimes with a look that scares you, sometimes licking their lips, you notice as time goes by the size of their stomach decreases and the more it does, the more these moments of staring increase.

Their stomach growls a low long sound and you feel like you're sweating as you shiver while a chill shoots down your spine,you speak in a shaky voice as you get up and start walking towards the door 'w-ell t-this has been fun but I have speak to staff about sleeping arrangements as there's not room for me her right now' you open the door a crack before it slams shut, you see the Pred's hand above you and the other engulfs your shoulder, the tone Pred speaks to you in makes your heart stop "oh I have room." Before the spin you around, pinning your arms to your sides as their jaw stretches open and they lift you up , shoving your head inside and swallowing before you can properly process the situation.

The grip of their throat is tight, but the fleshy tube contracts and releases easily as the experienced muscles drag you deeper inside, you snap out your stunned state a futilely kick and squirm , the struggles doing nothing except helping you slide down faster, the Pred groaning at your flavor as they gulp heavily and fast, impatient and greedy they feel they have waited for this long enough. Your head passed through the opening to their stomach and thinking fast you hold your breath, closing your eye as your face is shoved into the pile of half digested remains of the multiple buffets they cleaned out.

You're quickly force inside, curling up you gasp as your head emerges from the slurry of food, it stick to your hair, a foul acidic smell in your nostrils, you barely have the room to move and you start to cry feeling a bit betrayed but your soft sobs can't be heard over the gurgles and groans of the chamber as it continues to work on the food around you.

-----

"Aaah that hit the spot." They plop back down on their beanbag, their gut having grown in size once more, they give it a couple pats then rub it lightly "out of everything I ate today you are definitely the tastiest." They mean that fully, they had been planning to do this since they were first told that staff was going to once again, try to give them a roommate, a freshman this time, you were always going to feed them, they just didn't expect you to do it in more ways than one.

They continue to switch between rubbing and patting their their gut as a thoughtful look crosses their face, they had made up their mind to eat you, nothing you did was ever going to change that, however, what happens afterwards is still up for debate because honestly you are probably the first one staff sent that was actually friendly towards them instead of an entitled jackass , you also took them out and let them stuff themselves till they couldn't eat anymore, they had to wait to digest a bit before they could fit you in too, but even then they had a really good time today with you.

Considering who and what they were it wouldn't take but a second to cast the spell they would need to keep you from being lost inside their stomach forever, hell you might even actually be a good roommate if they give you that chance....a low whiny gurgle sounds from their gut. Whatever their decision is they will need to make it soon, they have about 15 minutes before the acid in their stomach starts to affect you too.

#soft vore #v*re #v0re #unwilling prey #ambiguous ending

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

The Moon Spirit - two

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 2.9k

a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.

You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.

You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.

Just as intended.

Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.

After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.

You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.

No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.

What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.

You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.

The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.

“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.

“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.

“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.

“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.

She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”

As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.

“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”

You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.

“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.

“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.

You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.

“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.

You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.

Dorian was a mess.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.

Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.

But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.

Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.

Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.

But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.

Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.

You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.

By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.

Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.

On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.

The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.

“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.

You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”

He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”

You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”

You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.

“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.

“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.

“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.

“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.

“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.

“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.

“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.

“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,

“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”

You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.

Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.

He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.

What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.

He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.

“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.

“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.

“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”

“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.

“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.

“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.

“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.

“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.

He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.

But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.

You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.

But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.

You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.

Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.

You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #dorian x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam x reader

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eliemo · 4 years

Text

The Incident- Part 2

Summary: Sometimes, it’s dangerously easy to spiral...but Virgil’s family isn’t going anywhere.

TW: Blood and injury treatment (nothing too graphic but stay safe), panic attacks, mentions of flashbacks, past abuse

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 (If i missed someone or u wanna be added just let me know!)

Roman didn’t get back until after dinner, the sun setting with brilliant orange light in the windows, still far too hopped up on adrenaline and brimming with new ideas to even think about eating yet.

He was sprawled out on the couch with his feet in Logan's lap, despite the logical side’s halfhearted protests, lamenting about his recent adventures and the inspiration they’d brought for the newest script.

Logan was pretending not to be listening, but Roman caught sight of an almost invisible smile, pride blossoming in his chest as he continued.

Virgil hadn’t come down in a few hours at least, apparently locking himself in his room due to a stomach ache earlier in the afternoon, and Patton’s worry had finally taken over, the moral side heading into the kitchen to heat up a plate of leftovers to take upstairs.

“Make sure to get him some water, too,” Logan called after him, momentarily silencing Roman’s tale. “He needs to stay hydrated.”

For a few moments, nothing changed, Roman falling back into his story, Logan’s attention switching from the creative side to the open book in his lap, the prince’s voice easily drowning out the hum of the microwave in the next room.

“Logan?” Patton called suddenly. “Did you...you didn’t break a cup or something today, did you?”

Logan froze, looking up from his book to meet Roman’s suddenly worried gaze, the living room plunged into an uneasy silence.

“No,” he answered carefully, slowly pushing Roman’s legs off of him. “Why?”

A beat of silence, followed by a bit of shuffling. “There’s a lot of glass in the trash...and I don’t--”

Roman was already off the couch before Patton yelped, the creative side racing into the kitchen and nearly crashing right into Patton, who’d been rushing for the living room.

“There’s blood,” he said, before anyone could ask any questions. “There- there’s blood...a lot of blood on the glass in- in the trash can I...Virgil, I- I didn’t realize he was--”

“Try to remain calm,” Logan said, already making his way towards the stairs. Patton grabbed Roman’s hand, the two following close behind. “We don’t know what happened yet.”

They made it to Virgil’s room, the door closed and the room seemingly quiet, and Roman stepped back to allow Patton to knock, well aware his own presence could possibly be overwhelming.

“Virgil?” Patton called, unable to keep the slight nervous tremble out of his voice. “Can we come in, kiddo?”

There was no reply, no sound from the other side of the door, and Roman didn’t miss the way Logan’s frown deepened at the lack of a response.

“We aren’t mad, baby,” Patton added, hand hovering over the doorknob. “We just wanna make sure you’re not hurt.”

After a moment of silence and an encouraging nod from Logan, Patton pushed open the thankfully unlocked door, (Roman had been more than ready to kick it down if he had to) freezing in his tracks as soon as he stepped inside.

Peering over the moral side’s shoulder, Roman could see why.

Virgil’s room was empty, bed still made and lights off, everything almost eerily still and silent. The bathroom was just as empty, the lights off and the door left ajar.

Patton whirled around, eyes wide and already filling with terrified tears. “Logan--”

“Both of you remain calm,” Logan instructed, like he wasn’t obviously seconds away from losing it himself. “Patton, come with me downstairs.”

“But he--”

“I need to get the first-aid kit,” he said. “Roman, will you keep looking up here? If we can’t find him, we’ll go to Thomas.”

It was fine. It was probably fine. Virgil’s room was likely just amplifying their stress, and making them all freak out for no reason. They’d find him, and he’d pretend to be annoyed at all the attention and worry, but Roman wouldn’t be able to help pointing out the anxious side’s rising blush.

That was how it always was.

Roman double checked Virgil’s room as the others made their way back downstairs, just to be safe, frantically checking under the bed and behind the shower curtain, all too aware of Virgil's habit of finding strange places to nap or zone out to music.

But the room was vacant, abandoned, and Roman couldn’t escape out into the hall fast enough, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Unwittingly, his mind traveled back to the last time they couldn’t find Virgil. When he’d tried to disappear, duck out for good, all because Roman never bothered to offer him a shred of kindness, none of them caring enough to see just how badly he was hurting--

He almost didn’t hear it, so caught up in his own thoughts and panic, but the tiny, choking sound from the closet at the end of the hall snapped him out of his own head.

“Virgil?” Roman called, heart sinking when there wasn’t a reply. “You over there, Hot Topic?”

His only answer was faint, labored breathing, barely audible, and Roman quickened his pace, taking a shaky breath before pulling open the closet door.

The first thing he saw was Virgil, huddled up in his usual patchwork hoodie, pressed tight into the closet’s limited space.

The initial relief at finding the other side safe quickly vanished when Roman took a step closer, dread clawing at his throat as he took in the sight.

Virgil had curled up into a tight ball, visibly trembling, eyes only half open and staring ahead at nothing, his gaze distant and glassy. His hands were pressed over his ears, and running down his arms…

Oh, god. That...that was a lot of blood.

“Virgil! Virgil, can you hear me?”

If Roman was a bit more put together at the moment, he would have moved slower or gone to get Patton or Logan to coax the anxious side out of his hiding place.

But all he could see was the blood- the fact that Virgil was hurt and Roman needed to help. He couldn’t afford to wait.

Carefully, he dropped to one knee and reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Virgil’s leg.

The reaction was immediate, Virgil jolting under the touch pressing back even further against the wall, bloody and cut up hands held up like he was trying to protect himself.

His eyes met Roman’s, growing wide in genuine terror, and the prince felt his heart break at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil was saying before Roman even had a chance to open his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry--”

“It’s alright,” Roman tried, doubting Virgil even heard. “But you’re bleeding, Virge. We gotta take care of that, ok? Logan can’t patch you up until you come out.”

Virgil shook his head, frantic. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to break it, it- it was an accident I swear, I tried to- tried to clean it up, I thought--”

Roman swore under his breath, glancing at the still empty hallway behind him. He knew he shouldn’t ever rush an attack like this, well aware Virgil was terrified and unable to think clearly but…

But aside from the bloody gashes across his palms and fingers, Roman could see a few smaller pieces of glass still wedged in the broken skin. He’d had those wounds for a few hours now at least. They didn’t have time.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. “You’ll be alright.”

And then, without giving Virgil a chance to process the movement, Roman cupped one hand under Virgil’s legs, the other around his back, and lifted him off the floor, holding him to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what he’d thought would happen, but he certainly hadn’t expected Virgil to scream and flail like Roman had come at him with a weapon.

“Please don’t please,” he was begging, breaths quickly dissolving into frantic wheezes. “I’m sorry I hid I...I- I didn’t mean to lie I just thought...I thought…”

They were both talking in circles, desperately apologizing over each other, Roman holding him tighter as he made his way down the hall, Virgil fighting blindly to break from Roman’s hold.

“Virgil!”

Patton was bounding up the stairs first, hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes when he made it to the top step, Logan hot on his heels.

“Roman, what are you--”

“He’s bleeding, Logan!” Virgil was burying his head in Roman’s chest, even as he fought to escape, refusing to even glance at the others. “I didn’t...I don’t know what to--”

“Bring him into the bathroom,” Logan said, pushing past Patton, first-aid kit in his hand. “Hurry.”

Roman followed, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Patton, who was trying to comfort Virgil with words that clearly weren’t getting through.

“Sit him on the counter,” Logan instructed, turning on the sink and setting the metal box down on the closed toilet seat. “Try to keep him calm.”

That was easier said than done. As soon as Virgil lifted his head from Roman’s chest his fighting increased tenfold, thrashing and crying and begging as Roman and Patton struggled to keep him still.

What did he think they were trying to do to him?

“Roman,” Logan said, running a clean towel under the faucet. “I need you to get behind him and hold him still. Patton, keep him from kicking please.”

Patton blinked, frozen in the doorway. “I- I can’t--”

“Patton, please.” Roman had maneuvered himself until he was standing behind the anxious side, arms wrapped around his chest and shoulders as Logan carefully reached for his bloody hands. “Try and get him to focus. Tell him he’s safe.”

The request was enough to snap Patton out of his own panic, the moral side wiping away his gathering tears and rushing towards the others. He held down Virgil’s legs with one hand, cupping his jaw in the other while Logan carefully but firmly took a hold of his wrists.

“Hey, honey,” Patton whispered, voice breaking when Virgil only choked back a terrified sob. “Just focus on me, alright? Look at me, sweetie. It’s Patton. It’s Dad. I’m right here.”

For a second Virgil’s breathing slowed, just a fraction. And then he flinched so hard Roman nearly lost his grip. Glancing over at the sink, he winced when he saw Logan carefully taking a pair of tweezers to the pieces of glass still stuck in Virgil’s skin.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” he muttered, barely audible over Virgil’s breathing picking up again. “It will be over soon.”

Thankfully, there wasn’t too much leftover glass in his skin, Logan soon setting aside the tweezers and guiding Virgil’s hands under the water. But still, Roman couldn’t imagine how badly that hurt, or what Virgil thought was happening in his panicked state.

“I need to clean the cuts to keep them from getting infected,” Logan said after a minute, rummaging through the first-aid kit. “Hold him very still, please.”

There was barely a warning, just a slight nod from Logan a few seconds later before he was pressing something against the skin and Virgil jumped, frantically trying to break away, crying out against the pain.

There was a sob that might have been from him or Patton, but there was no way for Roman to know for sure. Not when he was so focused on not letting Virgil go, not until he wasn’t a danger to himself.

“Please,” Virgil choked out, breathing still too quick and unsteady even as Patton counted out breathing exercises. “Pl- please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Focus on my voice, honey.”

“I- I’m sorry for hiding, I’m sorry, it...I- I won’t do it again, I promise, I’m sorry just stop , please please, I’m sorry…”

And Roman felt his heart shatter.

Virgil thought this was a punishment. He thought they were hurting him on purpose.

“Logan--”

“I know, Roman,” Logan snapped, a distinct wavering to his voice. “I’m almost finished.”

Logan kept working, cleaning and wiping the blood away with quick but careful movement, growing visibly more tense with each one of Virgil’s pleads.

“You’re ok, honey,” Patton kept saying. “You’re ok. I’m right here, you’ll be ok soon. We’re all here. We’re gonna help you.”

Roman couldn’t seem to find his voice, just held on tight and rested his forehead against Virgil’s trembling shoulder, listening to his racing heart and ragged breathing, hoping the contact would do something to ground him.

It felt like hours- hours of Virgil begging his family not to hurt him, Roman helpless to do anything but watch- before Logan finally finished, wrapping his hands in bandages.

“All done,” Roman said softly. He loosened his hold when Virgil, still trembling, went almost limp in his grasp. “You’re ok, Virge. You did so well, I’m so so sorry.”

Virgil didn’t respond, eyes still wide and terrified, letting out a noise that sounded like a desperate whimper.

Patton took a careful step back, letting his hands fall to his side. “Let’s get you to bed, alright kiddo?”

Virgil still didn’t speak, his apologies having fallen silent since Logan stopped treating his wounds, the anxious side only squeezing his eyes shut and hunching his shoulders, like he was waiting for more pain.

Roman took the hint and gently gathered Virgil into his arms again, blinking away tears when he flinched at the movement.

They took Virgil back to his room, Logan bringing sleeping pills and a glass of water from the medicine cabinet.

It took a few moments to convince Virgil to take them, the anxious side frantically scrambling to get as far away from the others as he could as soon as he was set down on his bed.

But eventually, (mostly because Virgil seemed terrified of what would happen if he didn’t comply) they got him tucked under the blankets, still teary and shivering, refusing to open his eyes.

He wouldn’t let them go anywhere near him, Patton having to step out of the room when he realized Virgil’s breathing only quickened the closer they got to the bed.

It took some time, Logan doing what he could to keep Virgil’s breathing under control, Roman and Patton hovering in the doorway, but the anxious side’s eyes eventually slipped closed, succumbing to his exhaustion.

“I should have checked on him,” Patton said when they were back in the living room, squeezing Roman’s hand so tight he thought it might bruise. “He said- he...I should have known to--”

“It’s not your fault, Pat,” Roman said. “You were just giving him some space. And he’ll be fine when he wakes up, right Logan?”

He didn’t answer, the logical side lowering himself onto the armchair and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

It wasn’t until his breath caught in his throat, Logan’s hand suddenly pressed against his mouth to muffle any sound, that Roman realized something was wrong.

Patton was up off the couch in an instant, Roman close behind, but Logan quickly shook his head, moving away from outstretched hands.

He took a few heavy breaths, slowly moving his hand away from his mouth, gaze locked on the floor. Roman could see how red and watery his eyes were, even as he blinked rapidly to get rid of the gathering tears.

“Apologies,” Logan said, and Roman’s breath caught at how broken he was trying not to sound. “Please...please disregard…”

“Honey, no.” Patton kneeled in front of the chair, a steadying hand on Logan’s knee, and Roman moved to clutch at his shoulder. “Don’t keep it in. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Logan shook his head again, looking anywhere but Patton. “I am...I am logic. I am not supposed to--”

“Will you cut the bullshit, Specs?”

Patton gasped. “Roman!”

Roman didn’t bother correcting his language. He squeezed Logan’s shoulder, knowing it helped to calm Virgil down and only able to hope it did the same for the logical side.

“You’re allowed to feel,” he said. “You can feel whatever you want whenever you want. You don’t need to pretend like you don’t.”

Logan shook his head once again, even as a few stray tears escaped and Roman wiped them away with his thumb. “It’s...it isn’t logical for me to be--”

“Emotions don’t have to make sense,” Patton said gently. “And no one’s going to think of you any differently for feeling.”

“You were trying to help Virgil,” Roman added. “You were trying to save him, and he thought you were hurting him. I’d say it’s fairly logical to be upset after that.”

And that was apparently enough to break the dam, a choked sob escaping from Logan, and this time he didn’t try to fight against it.

Roman rubbed his back as he tipped forward, forehead resting against Patton’s chest, the moral side crying along with him as he cupped the back of Logan’s neck.

“It’s ok,” he muttered. “We’ll be ok. It’ll be better in the morning.”

Logan curled further into Patton, clutching at his blue shirt. “I hurt him, I...I had to hurt him.”

“You were helping him,” Roman corrected, shifting positions to wrap his arms around both Logan and Patton. The angle was a bit awkward, but they seemed to relax slightly. “If you waited any longer, it just would have been worse. He’ll understand that when he calms down.”

“What if he doesn't?”

Roman wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being the one to calm Logan down, to talk him through a problem. As relieved as he was that Logan wasn’t forcing himself to stay put together...he wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Patton jumped in, glancing up to smile through his tears. “Because we love him. And that’s never gonna change.”

They were silent after that and Roman forced himself to relax under Patton’s optimism, as forced as it clearly was. There was no way to tell what Virgil would think when he woke up.

Not for the first time, Roman thought about grabbing his sword and hunting down each and every person who had ever dared to lay a hand on Virgil with malicious intent, every person who had ever let him feel worthless and unwanted.

But then again, if he were to go that far he’d have to turn his own blade on himself.

Things were different now, though. And while he and Virgil hadn’t always gotten along in the past, Roman had never once considered hurting him. No one deserved the treatment Virgil had been given.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend how anyone could see Virgil- sweet, scared, and caring Virgil , and decide they wanted to hurt him. Break him down until he was terrified of making the smallest mistake, convinced no one could ever accept him.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Roman said suddenly, not really meaning to speak out loud. “What they did to him. Virgil didn’t deserve that.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Patton said, with so much raw pain and hurt that Roman was once again forcibly reminded that Patton wasn’t just at the core of happy emotions. “But he’s safe now. Sometimes he’s just...gonna have to be reminded of that.”

And they would remind him. Over and over again if they had to. Like Patton said, they would figure it out.

When Virgil woke up, it was to a foggy head and a throbbing, itching sensation in his hands.

He finally blinked open his eyes when, after trying to scratch at his palms, he found only tightly woven bandages and a new spark of white hot pain up his arm.

Slowly, careful not to put any weight on his hands, he sat up in bed and leaned up against the headboard, suddenly weak and shaky as the whole room momentarily started to spin. He shut his eyes, walking himself through his breathing as he let the memories from yesterday wash over him.

Right. The broken glass, the panic attack, trying to hide and then…

Oh shit. God, what had he done? He couldn’t quite focus, couldn’t really remember where his thoughts had been through the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together as they all came flooding back.

He couldn’t even imagine how much he’d upset them. God, they were probably terrified. They’d just wanted to help and all he’d done was panic and fought, completely losing control just because of one stupid mistake.

A mistake that would have gotten him days of pain before…

But it wasn’t like that anymore. He should know that by now. The others tried so hard to help and he still couldn’t even control himself.

They’d...they’d never seen him panic like that before. He’d definitely done a number on his hands without even realizing, and he’d been too far gone to differentiate between help and punishment.

They’d thought he was getting better. They often told him how much progress he was making, even if Virgil couldn’t see it himself.

Well, obviously...obviously they wouldn’t think that anymore. Jesus, he’d locked himself in a closet covered in blood for who knew how long.

Honestly, what the hell was the point in keeping him? Why would they want him to stick around if all he did was terrify and hurt the people he loved?

Logan had said Virgil helped them. Roman had once said he made them better. Patton promised they all love him.

He was having a difficult time focusing on any that right now, forcing himself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

Virgil took one look at himself in the mirror and quickly turned away, a dangerous wave of self loathing immediately rising in his chest.

He should probably tell someone about that. Assuming they would still be able to look him in the eyes after last night.

Besides, he looked awful. His hair was horribly disheveled and his makeup was fading and smeared all the way down his face, eyes heavy and bloodshot.

His hoodie was neatly folded on the counter, cleaned of any bloodstains, along with a roll of clean bandages and a bottle of disinfectant.

Good. He wasn’t about to force anyone to take care of him again.

He changed his clothes and washed his face, not in any particular rush to leave his room, each movement making him more and more lightheaded, his hands protesting every little thing he did.

He couldn’t even put on his makeup, the pain too intense and hands too unsteady when he tried to grab the brush, nothing to hide the natural bags under his eyes, nothing to hide how pitiful and scared he looked.

It took a good ten minutes to get his bandages off, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he peeled off the paper, grimacing when he saw the far from healed cuts that littered his fingers and palms.

He’d done that to himself without even realizing it. There’d probably been glass stuck in his hands before someone came along and practically forced him to accept help. And he’d fought back like nothing had changed, like he was being punished, brain running on autopilot.

God, he was pathetic. Maybe he should just stay up here forever, isolate himself like he used to. He’d never have to be afraid of disappointing anyone again, and he doubted the thought had never crossed the other’s minds.

It...it wasn’t a bad idea. He hated it, of course. The thought of losing his family hurt worse than rubbing the disinfectant on his wounds.

He loved them. He loved what he had more than anything. But it wasn’t fair. He wasn’t getting better, that much was clear now. They deserved to be happy. And they couldn’t have that with him hanging around.

But he at least owed them an apology first. He wanted to make sure they knew they hadn’t done anything wrong.

So he wrapped up his hands as best he could with fresh bandages, taking a shaky breath before slipping on his hoodie. Pulling up the hood was the best defense mechanism he had right now, and the familiar warmth of the cloth offered a small amount of comfort.

It was almost eleven in the morning by now, which meant the others already had breakfast hours ago.

Virgil did his best to convince himself that they wanted to let him sleep in, and not that they just didn’t want him around.

It was annoyingly difficult to make it downstairs, his head pounding and vision strangely blurred. He almost wished he could just go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

But he was at the bottom step without even fully realizing he’d kept moving, freezing when he glanced up at the living room.

Patton, Roman, and Logan were seated on the couch, the TV turned on low to what was probably an old Disney movie, the three very obviously paying little attention to the screen. Patton and Roman were restless, Logan staring blankly, lost deep in thought.

They were waiting. Waiting for him . And suddenly Virgil really wanted to go back to his room and sleep for the rest of his life.

But that wasn’t fair to them. Nothing he did seemed to be lately. He stepped off the stairs, still using the railing to keep himself balanced, and cleared his throat.

“Uh, m-morning guys.” He hadn’t meant to stutter, and he winced at how broken and cracked his voice was, vaguely remembering screaming the night before.

Immediately, all eyes in the room were on him and Virgil had to fight the urge not to flee and lock himself in a closet again.

“Morning, Kiddo!” Patton moved like he was going to rush over and hug him, quickly stopping himself as Roman put a hand on his shoulder. Right. No one was going to want to hug him right now. “How’d you sleep?”

Virgil shrugged, staring firmly at the ground and trying not to sway. “Fine. No nightmares this time.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Logan said, standing along with the others. “But you’re likely still exhausted. Why don’t you take a seat?”

Virgil didn’t see a reason to argue, making his way to the empty armchair, knowing there was absolutely no way to hide how unsteady he was on his feet.

“Virgil,” Logan said when he was settled, and Virgil braced himself for the worst. “When was the last time you ate?”

Oh. Right, that would...probably explain his killer headache. “Uh, breakfast. Yesterday.”

Patton made a startled noise, already hurrying towards the kitchen before Virgil could muster up the strength to stop him.

The rest of them were left in heavy silence, Virgil refusing to look up from his lap while he absently picked at his bandages, until Patton returned moments later with a piece of bread with jam, and a cup of iced water.

Ice water in a plastic cup. He tried not to think about the implications of that.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and tried to ignore the fact that everyone was probably staring at him as he shakily picked up the piece of bread.

He was starving, but the anxiety churning in his gut was making him feel like he might throw up, and the last thing he needed to do was make another mess. So he ate his food slowly, sipping idly at the water, wincing at the lingering pain in his throat.

When he finished, he set down the now half empty cut, folded his hands in his lap and waited for the inevitable.

“Alright,” Logan said after a moment, and Virgil tried not to flinch. “I...believe we should talk about what happened last night.”

“Logan,” Roman chided, sounding more scared than upset. “He just woke up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Virgil said. The thought of delaying any longer was somehow even worse, and he didn’t need everyone pretending things were ok when they so clearly weren’t. “We can...we can talk about it now.”

A part of him, the part that had been in complete control yesterday, expected to be yelled at. He’d ruined their night, their lives, and he had the audacity to come down here like he was still welcome.

He pushed that voice away, and risked a glance up when he was met with silence, catching Logan sharing a small frown with Patton and Roman.

The logical side inched closer, taking a breath before speaking again. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it, I think,” Virgil said. “I know...I know you guys weren’t, uh, trying to hurt me. For breaking that glass. I mean, I didn’t yesterday but...I know that now.”

He hadn’t thought he’d needed to say it, but that was quickly disproven by how quickly the tension in everyone’s shoulders suddenly dropped, a watery smile growing on Patton’s face.

“I must have really freaked out, huh?” Like the loss of his voice wasn’t proof enough, memories of his own screams and his family’s frantic apologies. “I-I’m sorry you guys, I didn’t--”

“You were having a panic attack,” Logan said, calm as ever. “As well as what were likely some very intense flashbacks. There is no need to apologize for that.”

“Right.” He was always told not to apologize, not to blame himself. It didn’t get rid of the suffocating guilt. “I’m still sorry. For scaring you.”

“We were only scared because you were hurt!” Roman exclaimed. “You were practically bleeding out and you didn’t even seem to realize. We’d never seen you that far gone before!”

Virgil flinched, pulling his knees up to his chest, an old familiar defense. He knew Roman didn’t mean it as an accusation, but the guilt kept curling around him, tighter and tighter.

“We just want you to be safe,” Patton said, soft and quiet. “We don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Virgil nodded, not really sure what to say, digging his thumb into the palm of his hand like the sudden flare of agony could be of help. “I know.”

The room fell back into an awkward silence, Virgil warily shifting his gaze between the three of them, then back down at his own feet, wondering if they were waiting for him to say something.

“I think,” Patton spoke up after what felt like an eternity. “We should talk about why this happened.”

Right. Virgil had to tell him that they hadn’t done anything different or wrong, that he was just like this, and it was unpredictable and not worth the effort of trying to fix.

He opened his mouth to say just that, but Logan beat him to it.

“We assumed it was the glasses breaking,” he said. “Are we correct in that assumption?”

Virgil nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, panic and guilt steadily building up as he half expected to be chided or told off. He’d made so many mistakes since being accepted, something as stupid as breaking a cup shouldn’t send him spiraling like that.

But Logan just gave a small smile in response, apparently pleased with the answer. “Please understand, Virgil, that it is completely reasonable for you to react so strongly.”

Virgil scoffed before he could stop himself, startling when there was suddenly a hand gently rested over his. He refused to look at Logan, clenching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“It is,” Patton said from his spot by the couch. “You’d never...broken anything before. The other things you thought you’d be in trouble for were just...silly little things. We get that this might be...a bigger deal to you.”

“It’s…” Virgil paused, swallowing. “It’s still stupid.”

“It was a relapse, Virgil,” Logan corrected gently. “There’s no shame in something like this. Recovery is not linear. It never will be, and that’s quite alright.”

And this...this wasn’ fair. This wasn’t how they were supposed to be reacting. Virgil was horrible. He was terrible and awful and all he did was make everyone stressed and scared and miserable.

He’d screamed and fought when they were trying to help him, panicked over meaningless things too many times to count, and they still...why were they still being so patient with him? Why were they so nice?

Why would they give all this kindness to the person who deserved it the least?

“Perhaps,” Logan continued, when it was clear Virgil wasn’t going to answer. “We should inform you of what we’ve done in an attempt to ensure this doesn’t occur again.”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at that phrasing, wide eyes going immediately to Roman and Patton, but they just offered reassuring smiles and encouraging nods to Logan.

“The first thing we did was replace all glass cups and dishes with plastic ones,” Logan explained. “However, based on past experience I’ve determined that the sudden noise is also incredibly detrimental to your mental state.”

“I- I guess--”

“It’s only a temporary fix, of course, but we had Roman put a rug in the kitchen underneath the cabinets. It’s aesthetically pleasing- thanks to him, and it should muffle the sound if someone happens to drop something. Hopefully, that will alleviate some stress in the future.”

And Virgil...Virgil kind of wanted to throw up. Because that might be the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

He’d fucked up again, showed them that he was unfixable, and they’d responded by remodeling their kitchen.

“Of course it is not a- Virgil? Did I say something wrong?”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he started crying, but suddenly it was all too much, the guilt finally overwhelming. He was so unworthy- undeserving of every kind smile, every gesture, it made him sick.

He shook his head, the only sound he was able to manage being an awful sounding sob that worsened the pain in his throat, but at the moment he didn’t even care.

“What’s wrong?” Roman was asking, clearly distraught (Virgil had upset him again), and suddenly Patton was in front of him, gathering him into his arms.

Virgil knew he should pull away, refuse the comfort and distance himself. But he was selfish, melting into the warm embrace with another shuddering sob, unable to stop himself from holding on.

“Deep breaths, honey,” Patton said, voice barely a whisper. “Can you tell us why you’re upset? Are you just overwhelmed?”

He shook his head, taking a few desperate breaths, struggling to find his words.

“It’s...I...you shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. All of this. With- with the kitchen and the cups and the plates--”

Roman stepped closer, hand on the back of the chair. “Is it not going to help?”

“It will,” Virgil said, because it was perfect and they were perfect and that was the problem. “It will but it...it’s too much, and it’s just a hassle for you guys and I should just--”

It was Logan’s turn to cut him off, sounding painfully worried. “You...do you think we care more about the cups we use than your comfort?”

“It’s not about the cups!”

He pulled away from Patton as soon as he realized he’d shouted, shame now mingling with the guilt, and Virgil had to forcibly remind himself to breathe.

“Sorry,” he gasped, shrinking back against the chair. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to...I can’t do anything right and I just--”

“Hey.” Patton cupped his cheek, and Virgil quickly fell silent. “We both know that’s not true. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong, ok?”

Virgil nodded, Logan and Roman watching patiently, Logan’s hand still gently cupping his own, keeping him from digging his nails into the bandages again.

After what he’d put them through last night, he needed to just get everything out in the open. The sooner the better.

“I’m not getting better,” he said, continuing over the expected protests. “I’m not. I know recovery isn’t linear or- or whatever, and you all say I’m making progress but...but last night was bad. And who knows if it’ll happen again, and I don’t...I never wanted to put you guys through something like that.”

“Virge,” Roman said. “It’s not your fault.”

Virgil wasn’t really in the mood to debate that. He couldn’t control it, as much as he tried, but it was still his fault the treatment had ever happened. He’d let himself get hurt, over and over again.

He shrugged, wiping at his eyes. “You guys are...you...you’re great. All of you. Nobody’s ever...done all of this for me. But I can’t do anything for you except...except make everything worse.”

“Virgil--”

“And I get it.” He couldn’t seem to stop now, desperate for it all to be over with. “And I know you all wouldn’t...say anything but, that’s ok. You- you’ve all helped me a lot. And I can...I can go back. I know it’s too much.”

Roman frowned, and Virgil felt him go very still. “Go back?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You know, to...to how things used to be. Me up in my room all the time so you guys don’t have to keep dealing with this.”

Roman’s eyes widened, sharing a look with the others that could only be described as one of horror. “Virge, we’re not gonna ask you to leave!”

“I know!” Because that was the whole point, wasn’t it? They would never ask him to do that, no matter how much better things would be without him. They were too good. “I- I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m offering.”

It was the right thing to do. It was. They tried so hard, and they deserved so much better. And Virgil...Virgil was better off alone, anyway.

It would be ok. It shouldn’t hurt this bad.

“I love you guys.” It did. It did hurt this bad. “I don’t want to make things harder for you anymore.” It felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. But this was for the best, this was--

There was a hand grabbing his chin, not hard enough to hurt, moving his head up until he was face to face with Logan. Logan, whose eyes were red and watery.

He’d made Logan upset. He’d made logic cry.

“Virgil,” he said, never averting his gaze. “You’re an idiot.”

“Logan!” Patton gasped, and suddenly there was another hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “He’s not angry, honey. You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m furious,” Logan said, and Virgil’s heart sank until he continued. “I’m furious at whoever left you feeling this way. Believe me when I say I will continue to do whatever I can to undo it. But you, Virgil, are an idiot if you can think for one minute that your trauma is all you have to offer.”

“Lo--”

“We love you, Virgil. All of you. That means your past, your mistakes, your relapses, all of it. Because that includes all of the good.”

“You make us better,” Roman added, sincere and strong. “I mean that every time I say it. You protect us, you bring us closer, and you make us happy.”

“I...I don’t--”

“You do.” Patton was in front of him again, Logan having let go of his jaw. “I know you can’t always see it, but you do. We wouldn’t be complete without you. We weren’t complete until you came along. So don’t you think for a second that we would ever give up on you. You’re worth everything, kiddo.”

Virgil couldn’t really see at this point, vision blurred completely by the neverending trail of tears, but right now he didn’t really care. The guilt was fading for the moment, that ever present voice in the back of his head finally being silenced.

“What we’re trying to say,” Logan added, not bothering to wipe away his own tears. “Is that we have no desire to ask you to leave. And at this point, I doubt we’d let you if you tried.”

Roman’s smile brightened, and Virgil felt himself blush when the prince winked at him. “Yes, we’ve grown rather fond of you, Doctor Gloom.”

Virgil sobbed again at the nickname, but he was smiling through his tears now, blindly reaching for all of them. And they were there, without even needing to be asked, one last silent reassurance that they meant what they said, that he didn’t need to go anywhere.

“Come on,” Patton said, pulling away after what might have been hours. “Let’s get you some real food. And I’ll show you the new cups- Logan let us make them pretty colors!”

For just a second the voice was back, telling him it was too good to be true, that he should duck out now and never leave his room again.

He didn’t even give it a second thought, brushing the dark thoughts aside and allowing himself to be dragged to his feet, following his family into the kitchen.

For the moment, even if it wouldn’t last, he let himself relax.

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staysaneathome · 3 years

Text

Statement #3 of the Reigen Files (Name Pending)

[CLICK]

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Oh, a computer! Nice, nice, very nice.”

[A clatter of someone dropping into a chair with two much force. The table squeaks as it is nudged out of alignment.]

ARATAKA REIGEN: “How-eh-how’s the, «what’s the word again…» the recorder?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Fortunately, its cover was just cracked and the tape was fine, no thanks to you.”

ARATAKA REIGEN: [Sucking in air through teeth.] «C-crap.»

ARATAKA REIGEN: “I can pay for a new one?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “It’s fine, Mr. Reigen. Just, just try not to gesticulate too wildly this time, alright?”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Eh, what is ges-gesti—?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Oh, damn, uh…Movement. No big movement, like this, right?”

[There’s a faint sound of a hand smacking against plastic.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “Ow! Oh, damn—”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Sims?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “…At least the laptop’s screen’s fine. So, so no big movement like that, got it?”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “No big movement! Got it!”

[Another clatter as something else on the table is hit.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “…Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Statement of Arataka Reigen, regarding…” [Weary Sigh] “…Regarding the time his parents forgot to pack him a lunchbox for a school sports day. Statement is taken directly from subject by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, whose time Mr. Arakata apparently sees fit to waste at his leisure, on June 12th, 2016 at 11:45 AM. Statement begins.”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Well, I want to say it was maybe…3rd grade in elementary school?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “I beg your pardon?”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Elementary?” «I’m sure that’s the right word…» “The school you go to when you’re…eight, I think?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Oh, you mean primary. Right, okay. Please continue.”

ARATAKA REIGEN: «…Okay… I could’ve sworn it was…anyway,» “I was eight years old. It was my school sports day. I was in class 3-B, and we were the red team that year. We had done well that year, because we had Urashima Taro in our class. We didn’t do so well the next year, because he moved down to 4-C, but we had him that year, and he was really strong and the fastest runner put of everyone. Of course, I helped us get a victory over 3-A in the rope-pull, so I was pretty important to our success too. But then lunch time came, and everyone in my class went off with their parents to eat their lunchboxes. You know what it was like in the one hundred and eighties, where everyone’s parents had to work to buy the next meal for the week. Well, my mom and my dad could not come because both of them were working that day. But I guess both of them had forgot to tell each other that? So after the rope tug, I went to go have lunch like all my classmates, only no one was there. And they’d both forgotten to pack me something to eat on my own, even? So I was just staring at everyone else eating, with their mommies and daddies, and feeling really, really hungry. And it was weird, because my vision got kinda…«what’s the word…» fuzzy? Like I was in a…«mist», you know? When clouds come down to where you can see and it goes all white?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “You mean foggy?”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Foggy!” «That’s the word, I need to remember that for next time…» “Yeah, yeah, foggy. And I am in the foggy, staring at all these people, but they are hard to see. Hard to hear. Almost like I’m the only real person and they’re just…extras? Like in a movie? And I’m really, really hungry, and I’m wishing I had some…some food. Or a person to talk to, like everyone else. And then there was a hand on my shoulder. It really scared me, because I thought I was alone! It was Tanaka-sensei, my…«…I know this!» Ah! Homeroom teacher! Yeah, yeah, homeroom teacher. And he was scared because he saw me just staring at everyone, not moving, and Tanaka-sensei asked me where my parents were. And I said they weren’t here, and I had no lunchbox. So Tanaka-sensei gave me his banana and peanut butter sandwich, because I had no lunch. It was pretty good. But what I learned most on that day was that it was okay if your mom or dad or whoever takes care of you didn't show up, even if it was to something important to you. Because there are other adults who will care, even if they aren’t them, and that’s okay. But when you’re an adult, and you have a kid like that, you gotta do your best to be like Tanaka-sensei was to you to them. It’s what being an adult means. I have students like that, and I made sure to make Mob a peanut butter and banana sandwich when he was training for his club. Tome’s allergic to peanuts though, so she prefers cheese and egg sandwiches.”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “I have some pictures of Mob in his club, wanna see?

THE ARCHIVIST: “That’s quite alright Mr. Reigen, I—”

ARATAKA REIGEN: [Clearly ignoring his protests] “Yeah, see, here, this is Mob training for his first race! He was so excited for it, and he did super good, even if he ended up tripping at the start! He was «74th» in his year! Wait, I have a video here—”

THE ARCHIVIST: [Slightly desperately] “Is this really necessary—”

[Slightly tinny sound of a video being played through a phone’s speakers. There’s the sound of clamorous cheering in Japanese, in concert with wild and slightly too enthusiastic applause. Faint sounds of people running are audible beneath the sounds of support. Reigen’s voice calling out for Mob is much louder than anyone else’s.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “Ah. How lovely.”

ARATAKA REIGEN: «Right?» “Mob’s on the track and field team at Tokyo U now! He’s in his second year.” [A wistful sigh]«They grow up too fast… I remember when he barely came up to my knee, when he first came into my office…»

THE ARCHIVIST: “That’s very nice, Mr. Reigen. But if we’re quite finished?”

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Well, I guess—”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Wonderful. Why don’t you go and wait in the bullpen and Martin will fix you a cup of tea? We’ll be sure to look into this and see if it is anything more than childhood drivel and get back to you, posthaste.”

[Clatter of someone being not so gently guided out of their chair and shown the door]

ARATAKA REIGEN: “Okay? Wait, what does ‘drivel’ mea—”

[The door slamming shut in his face cuts off the end of his sentence.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “Oh thank God.”

[Slow trudging steps of someone shouldering a burden too heavy for their shoulders and slumping into their chair with more force than strictly necessary. The table squeaks in complaint again.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “I need a pay raise. Some similarities to Naomi Herne’s statement, but honestly I expect that’s more a result of Mr. Reigen’s sense of melodrama than anything else. Honestly, if Elias expects me to entertain these frivolities…”

[A pause. Shuffling as papers and miscellaneous pens and other utensils are shunted aside before audio quality suddenly increases.]

THE ARCHIVIST: “Wh-? What’s this doing here? And it’s…running?”

THE ARCHIVIST: “Ugh, MARTIN! How many times have I told you, we only have a limited supply of these tapes, we can’t afford to leave them running them willy-nilly, honestly—!”

[CLICK]

#tma #mp100 #the magnus archives #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #jon sims #mp reigen #jonathan sims #my writing #statement #the lonely #I love the idea of Reigen boasting about his kids at any oppertunity #and this takes place a few years after mp100 ends #so Mob’s at college #while Reigen’s on a wild European tour to deal with empty nest syndrome #I turned it into a fic #surprise!

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 3 years

Note

I love your blog! Have u ever considered making a side blog with rp for the binary bfs? If not/you don’t want to, that’s fine! It’s not for everyone, although if you could link some that do that’d be awesome! Anyways, how do you think Hawk and Demitri met? What was their first date like? Do the karate dads know?- Cherry

Oh my goodness, my inbox has been blowing up lately! :D Imma have to answer like 2 questions a day to have any hopes of keeping up lol

Hey Cherry! OMG thank you so much, I’m so glad you like it :D

TBH idk if I have time to run a full-on RPG sideblog at the moment--truth be told, it’s enough work keeping this one as active as it is! Haha XD I’ll still give all the snippets of that sweet, sweet Demetri x Hawk content that I possibly can on this blog though :D

BUT I think @sipping--snowflakes recently started a Demetri RPG blog and is actually looking for someone to roleplay Elimetri with them :D If any of my watchers are interested, hit them up!!! There is much binary boyfriend roleplay fun to potentially be had!!!

ON TO THE QUESTIONS

My personal headcanon on how Demetri and Eli met is that on the first day of kindergarten, Demetri absolutely would NOT shut up about dinosaurs and Star Wars to their class (I mean, come ON, little Demetri HAD to have had a Dinosaur Phase...I know it deep in my heart to be true). He wandered around to basically every table during Center Time/Arts and Crafts Time/Whatever the fuck they call that “free wandering-about-the-classroom-doing-whatever-activities-you-want time” in elementary school and chatted the ear off of every boy and every group of boys in the class (remember, this is Tiny Demetri, who DEFINITELY would not have the courage to speak to ANY girl XD). And every single boy, every single group, without fail, responds with “Oh my GOD shut UP go AWAY you’re so ANNOYING you weirdo” and poor little excited Demetri is just crushed that no one wants to hear about tyrannosaurus rexes and lightsabers--or worse, tyrannosaurus rexes HOLDING lightsabers and dueling with them. And then, finally, he gets to little Eli, sitting all alone (because no one wants to befriend the kid with the messed up lip), and LO AND BEHOLD! Someone is finally listening to him!!! And seems to actually care about tyrannosaurus rexes with lightsabers!!! Little Demetri is beyond thrilled to have someone to talk to. Little Eli, meanwhile, is also thrilled, because did this kid just talk his ear off about Obi-Wan Kenobi for 20 minutes straight and not mention the lip scar once? Demetri, meanwhile, is so caught up in his rambling that he doesn’t notice the goddamn lip scar is even THERE until they’ve already spent half the day together XD “ANYWAYS I THINK ONCE THE JEDI ORDER COMES BACK AFTER RETURN OF THE JEDI THEY SHOULD RIDE STEGOSAURUSES AND--oh, what happened to your lip?”

As for their first date...had to think for a while about the perfect first date for them would be. I was originally gonna say they’d just go down to Santa Monica Pier or something and just goof off, but I think Demetri would want to make it more special than that. I ended up headcanoning that they’ve always wanted to go to Universal Studios together growing up (mainly because of Harry Potter World, of course!!!), but neither of their families have ever really been able to afford it. BUT when Demetri and Eli finally get together, Demetri is like “fuck it, we’re finally gonna do this” and he saves up basically all the money he’s made at summer jobs and buys tickets for both of them to surprise Eli. Eli is so happy he starts crying, and then he gets angry he’s crying in front of Dem and is like “GOD DAMMIT STOP LOOKING AT ME THIS IS SO EMBARASSING, I’M TOUGH” and Demetri thinks it’s the cutest, funniest thing ever XD Then Demetri drives them both down to Universal and they both just have the best goddamn day of their lives and buy WAY more merchandise from Harry Potter World than is in any way wise XD And becoming “Hawk” has, for better or for worse, laid bare Eli’s inner adrenaline junkie, and he drags poor Demetri on every. Single. Roller coaster. Don’t worry, Eli is more than happy to hold his hand during the scary drops XD But Eli will not rest until they’ve ridden EVERY fast ride in the park and Demetri whines about it but secretly he just likes seeing his boyfriend that shamelessly excited about something! Also Dem takes a million cheesy couple selfies and posts them all over social media bragging about his cute bf, much to Eli’s embarrassment.

“Karate Dads” fksljchcbduswvc I love that this is like...the universal term for Daniel and Johnny now. I honestly could not be happier about it XD Daniel I’m sure would pick up on it first (Johnny, though I love him dearly, is just so very DENSE sometimes), either just kinda by reading the room or hearing about it through Sam (who probably has mixed feelings on it herself). I imagine being as protective of Demetri as he is, Daniel would pull him aside at some point and be like “Demetri wasn’t this guy the reason you pushed yourself to learn self-defense in the first place??? And now you want to DATE him??? Are you sure???” and Demetri of course would be like “Yeah he was in a really dark place then, but I’ve known him basically my whole life and I know he’s got a good heart!” and Daniel would probably be wary about it, but ultimately decide Demetri’s a smart enough guy to handle himself and trust him to make his own judgements. And of course, he’d figure if Sam can vouch for an ex Cobra Kai like Miguel turning over a new leaf and trying to be better, there’s no reason Hawk can’t, too. And seeing how much Eli cares about Demetri and how protective he’s gotten of Dem helps too, and Daniel would probably warm up to Eli eventually. Although, like Sam, I imagine it would take a cool minute. Johnny would probably find out through chatting with Hawk, and Hawk just kinda...accidentally lets it slip he and Demetri are dating, and Johnny just quizzically raises an eyebrow like “Oh? You’re dating the mouthy kid?” And Hawk just goes bright-ass red and Johnny remembers how Demetri went off on him on the first day of Cobra Kai all those months ago for making fun of Hawk’s lip, and he breaks into this HUGE shit-eating smirk like “yeeeeeah that doesn’t surprise me at all. Eh, it’s probably for the best. If anyone can toughen that kid up, it’s you. Although I hear he DID hand your ass to you when he kicked you into that trophy case, so maybe he’s not as much of a pussy as I thought.” (sidenote: Yes, I do think Johnny ended up hearing about Demetri’s KO kick...and was grudgingly impressed XD) And Hawk just...gawks at Johnny being THIS nonchalant about all of this and he’s just like “Sensei? You...don’t think it’s weird I’m dating a guy?” and Johnny just looks him dead in the eye and says “I don’t give a fuck if whoever you’re making out with has a cock or a pussy, or whatever, as long as it’s not gonna distract you during training. Just play Hide the Salamis on your own time.” And Hawk, now a blushing mess, is just like “Y-YES SENSEI” and stumbles out of the room XD Ironically I think Johnny would probably vouch for the relationship to Daniel later on, and be like “I mean, the kid DID switch sides MID-FIGHT to save that scrawny little nerd. That takes some serious balls, LaRusso. He clearly cares about the wimp, you can stop hovering over them like Demetri’s gonna keel over and die any second.”

Thank you for the ask, as always! More to come!

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 3 years

Text

Take Your Time

Bertholdt Hoover x nb!reader

word count: 2360

summary: the warriors are in uni together. reader gets the news their older sister’s cancer is back, bertie boi tries to be a grounding presence for them. did I say it’s a modern/college au? it’s a modern/college au. fluff, angst???

a/n: yessirrr it’s another fic I wrote to cope w not having a good support system irl, we love moving away from toxic home environments :))) also there will be a part 2 to this for a happy ending. if there are any pronoun inconsistencies LET ME KNOW!!! I would like to fix that, reader uses they/them uwu

tw: cancer mention, pre-mourning, poverty??? if that’s triggering for u

masterlist

Professor Erwin begins taking attendance, and I can’t help but feel like something is off. Missing. Annie nudges me and whispers, “Have you seen y/n?” I shake my head, no.

Reiner mentions, “Last I saw them, they got a phone call and looked like they’d seen a ghost when they answered it.”

Annie’s face drops. “It might’ve been something about their sister.”

“Something?” Reiner asks. “Or cancer again?”

Annie quickly elbows him in the gut. “Don’t talk about it like that. You know what they told us last time.”

His tone shifts. “O-Oh. Right.”

I rise from my seat. “I’m gonna go check on them. Can I copy notes later? I’ll be back soon, hopefully.” Annie and Reiner nod, content to take studious notes. I know I’ll owe them favors.

As soon as I’m out the door, I run all the way to y/n’s dorm. It’s across campus, and I have all my stuff with me, so five minutes later I’m sweating and out of breath as I reach their dorm. I can already hear their sobs. My heart drops.

I knock on their door as lightly as I can, cringing at the thought of interrupting them during such a private moment.

“I’ll be right there!” I hear them call as they weakly try to quiet themself down. As they open the door, they stare at their feet and say, “Hey Hange, sorry I’m being so loud, I know that’s-“ A gasp strangles its way out of their throat midsentence- “Probably why you’re knocking, I just got some bad news, but I’ll try to tone it down a couple notches.”

I’m not quite sure how to respond to their apology, so I stand there awkwardly until they look up at me. Their eyes have never looked so dark, and I’ve never seen their face look so sorrowful in the entire time I’ve known them. They stand there for a moment in realization, then launch into me with a hug that knocks me back a step and start sobbing again.

I return their embrace, and walk them backwards into the dorm they share with Annie, closing it behind us. They start to sink to their knees, but I pull them up. “Stay with me, y/n.” I guide them to the couch and they slump, beside themself, only held up by my arms around them. I push their hair back behind their ears, unable to say anything as their cries echo through the room, splotches of salty tears staining my pant legs and shirt. Their crying cuts off, turning into a coughing fit for a minute.

“It’s back.” They finally whisper, voice hoarse, neck muscles straining. “And it’s in her heart. We-“ They let out another breathy sob. “We can’t afford to buy her a heart. Even if we sold all of our things, it wouldn’t add up to a heart.” Their crying starts again, and another one of their gasps breaks off into a cough. Suddenly, their cough stops, and they cover their face, hopping up and running to the bathroom. I follow them, and watch with gritted teeth as they lose their entire breakfast in the toilet. They keep crying, using toilet paper to wipe the puke from their mouth, blowing their nose with another strip. I see blood and puke on the second strip and almost hurl myself, but I steel myself and keep it together. Coming undone right now will only make it worse.

“Y-you got vomit in your hair. Let me help.” I offer my hand and pull y/n up to their feet, flushing the toilet for them and maneuvering them around to the bathtub. They kneel, and I turn on the faucet, instructing them to tip their head over. I run the warm water over their head with a cup sitting on the side of the bathtub and pretend not to hear their whimpers. They either don’t realize the roaring water in their ears isn’t actually drowning them out, or they don’t care. Perhaps both.

Once the mess is gone, I turn the water off and grab a nearby towel, helping them wrap their hair in it. They sit on the bathtub edge, looking absolutely miserable and empty of all happiness, so I head to their bedroom and rummage through their drawers until I find the softest pair of pajamas they own and a pair of plush fuzzy socks. I bring them back to them, and they shut the door to change.

In the meantime, I text Annie to tell the profs I’m gonna be absent today, and y/n will likely be absent the entire week due to a family emergency, I order their favorite pizza, and find their favorite movie on Disney+. I peel back the covers of their bed and change into my own pajamas (they’re nice enough to let everybody in the group keep a pair in the extra dresser drawer in the event of an unexpected sleepover) and head back to the bathroom, tapping lightly.

Y/n opens the door, fully changed, so I help them remove the towel and comb through their hair as gently as I can, not wanting to yank on their scalp. I try to apply their serums and creams like I remember, but they step in after I almost do the wrong order. I just grab the towel and their dirty clothes and toss them in the hamper.

A knock at the door tells me the pizza’s here, so while they handle their curly mane, I find their favorite plates and serve us up slices. Chicken-bacon-spinach alfredo, just how they like it.

When they finally exit the bathroom, they eye the smaller serving almost like it’s poison, and whisper in a tone barely audible: “I don’t think I can eat right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll come grab it if you get hungry later.” I say, sticking their plate in the microwave and putting the box in the oven to lock in their heat. I lead them into the bedroom and plop down on the bed, inviting them to sit between my legs. When they’re settled in, I pull the covers up and grab their stuffed animals for them when they can’t reach them.

The movie starts and eventually I find myself holding y/n and their head tucked into my chest. If I’m being honest, I’ve watched this movie with them a million times, so I don’t need to see it to know what’s going on. Good thing, too, because I can’t keep my eyes off their face even though it pains me to look at them. How can someone so beautiful know so much pain?

And their sister. They have two. I’ve seen them before, in pictures. Even when they’re mad at them, the way they talk about them, you can just tell how much y/n loves them. They’ve always been protective over them both, especially so their younger sister, but since their older sister’s first run-in with cancer, y/n almost talked about her like she was fragile, to be handled with care.

I can’t imagine what their sister’s feeling right now. Anguish, for sure. I’m sure losing your own life is worse than mourning. At least when you’re the one alive, you can remember them.

“Thank you,” Y/n says, voice barely above a murmur, “For helping me. I... I think I’m going to need a lot of help to get through this.”

I say, “It’s no problem, really. That’s what friends are for. I’m here for you, and so is everyone else.”

They wince. “Everyone else already knows?”

I shrug. “Well, maybe not everyone. But me, Annie and Reiner connected the dots when you didn’t show up to class.” They nod in understanding. “I don’t think they’ll tell anyone, though. Not unless you want them to.”

They suggest, “I think I should be the one to break the news. I’m probably gonna take time to visit, spend as much time with her as possible.”

I rub their back supportively. “We can visit you while you’re away. Or, if you’d rather, we can wait here for you to come back. When you’re ready, of course.”

“One of the two.” They murmur. They look up at me, eyes glassy. “I’m really glad you’re here, Bertholdt. You’ll never know how much it means to me.” We share a look, communicating what words don’t want to, and suddenly I feel myself leaning in, and I see their eyes fluttering closed, I feel their breath lightly fanning my face, then my lips as I get closer, until-

“Y/n!” Annie’s voice rings out as the front door all but slams open. We both sigh quietly, scooting away from each other. “Y/n, I’m so sorry, I came as fast as I could after class got out, where are you?” She pushes the bedroom door open, dropping her bag, then looks over and sees us, but not the tender moment we nearly shared. She runs over, sinking to her knees and pulling y/n into her signature crusher hug. “Y/n, I love you so much, you have to know that, and I’m here for you. Roommate or not, I’m here for you. You’re my best friend, don’t forget that.”

Y/n quickly finds themself and returns the hug with only half as much power, weakly saying, “Thanks, Annie. I love you too. Today’s been... tough.”

“It’ll be tough for awhile. The important thing right now is figuring out what you need and doing that.” Annie reassured them. “Also, if you’re worried that Reiner’s going to barge in here and say something stupid-but-well-intentioned, he’s not.” She pauses, looking y/n in the eye. “He’s waiting outside to do that.”

A knowing smile passes between them, and y/n actually huffs, the happiest noise they’ve made all day.

“Well.” Y/n says, “I can’t keep him waiting out there forever, now can I?” And pushes themself up off the bed. I follow, hoping against hope Reiner manages not to say anything insensitive. When they pull the door open, lo and behold, Reiner is indeed waiting outside awkwardly. He dips his head in greeting to me and pulls y/n into the gentlest hug I’ve ever seen him give.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I don’t know what else to say to make you feel better, but I’m here if you need me.” He says, and his eyes reflect the sincerity of his tone.

Y/n sniffs again. “That’s all you need to say.”

Annie interrupts, “I hate to be a downer, but there’s a pizza box in the oven and me and y/n had a movie night planned. Unless you’re not up for it anymore?” She turns her gaze to y/n questioningly.

“No, yea, a plan is a plan. I could never skip our movie nights!” They respond, cracking another small smile.

Annie returns the smile, then fixes Reiner and I with her signature cool stare. “Get out. Roommate night is commencing.”

Reiner mutters, “Don’t have to tell me twice.” And slips out the door, while I linger. Annie looks at me and arches her brow.

“I’d like to get a word or two in with y/n.” I input. She sighs, walking into the bedroom to afford us some privacy. She does mother y/n a lot, I think.

Y/n looks up at me expectantly. I start, “Y/n, I- I want to- I really like you. But I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

They nod, frowning a bit. “I figured you’d say that. But you’re right. Realistically, it just doesn’t make sense for us to jump into anything when I’m probably about to leave. But?” They perk up again, hope in their eyes.

“Eventually, yes,” I say, nerves making my stomach flutter a bit. “I’ll be waiting for you. But I only want to explore that when it’s the right time. I want you to *take* your time.”

They grab my hand. “And I will. I will take my time. Just- don’t forget about me.”

I laugh, the smile impossible to wipe from my face. “I can’t ever forget about you when you’re always on my mind.”

“You guys disgust me!” Annie calls from the other room. “Hurry up! The movie’s starting!”

Y/n laughs. “You better go, you know how serious Annie is about our movie nights.”

I give their hand a squeeze and say, “Try to have fun, okay? And eat some of that pizza. It was expensive, as far as pizza goes. Don’t neglect yourself.”

They walk me to the door as they say, “I’ll try. Don’t let Reiner get into any trouble. I’m pretty sure Annie’s not the only one eavesdropping on us right now.”

Annie calls again, “It’s impossible to not hear you guys! Learn to whisper!”

“You’re no fun!” I retort, a bit louder for Annie. “And I shall do. When can I see you again?” I ask y/n.

They smile. “Whenever you want. I’m gonna need the company now, anyway. Goodbye, Bertholdt.”

“Goodbye, y/n.” The door clicks into place after they shut it behind me. I’m feeling such a mix of emotions right now. Longing? Sadness? Sympathy? Happiness? It’s all so jumbled up. There could’ve been much better timing for me to admit that. Much better timing for everything, though I suppose just because there’s a better time for something doesn’t mean it won’t happen when it wants to.

There’s a slight bounce to my step as I meet Reiner who’s already halfway down the hall after he got all his juicy details. I’m not sure where everything is going to go from here, but I know my next step is going to be taking life as it comes, and doing what I can to be supportive of y/n. I smile to myself, ignoring Reiner rolling his eyes and saying something about me being lovestruck. As terrible as today’s news was, it wasn’t all bad. At least the person I’ve crushed on forever feels the same way. The hope I feel in my heart sparks something in me.

“Reiner... we have to help them.” I say, determination running through my veins.

“How?” He asks.

“We have to help them get their sister a heart.”

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cloveroctobers · 3 years

Text

• TALIA NASCIMENTO•

IG info/bio: @/callmetalia333 | 524k followers | Journalist | TALIA. but u may have formerly known me as user: brdf0rdsvasquiff—rip!!!1! so don’t even think about it 😌

(23) 25 going on (26) years of age

I’ve read a canon that her name is just Talia and not short for anything & I agree with that + she’s always quick to correct someone if they get it wrong too

Her hometown is Watford, England

but she was originally born in Maidenhead in the backseat of a car during a severe rainstorm

Nonetheless watford taught her all she needed to know when it came to music

She found her first love when she heard the sound of music soundtrack for the v first time as a young girl but is often nervous to admit that?

her father is Brazilian and is a firefighter

her mother is Bulgarian and works as a secretary in a elementary school

her mother is more traditional than her father when it comes to their cultures

I originally felt like she gave only child vibes but I can deff see her giving off big sis energy since she did mention she has a younger brother

V protective over her little brother

there’s a three year age difference

her parents have separated multiple times before which caused a riff in the family dynamic

The constant coming and going from her dad became quite irritating

And Talia was the most vocal by wanting them to figure it out and NOT get a divorce

Which led to talia’s commitment issues when it came to relationships herself

was born with blue eyes yet they shifted to brown once she grew

“Tom-boy” growing up & still is

netball was her sport and man was it something to see her play?! She was quick on her feet and can definitely shoot far-range with ease

Always down for contact sports too

She lost count how many bruises and scrapes she would come home with much to her mother’s horror but she would always brush it off—it was never that big of a deal to her

yet she takes time in healing her scars with homemade treatments or purchases from beauty stores when she wants to show her legs off

she didn’t get into “girly” wear until recently, she never thought too much of her body or when she started to get curves...she always hid that behind big tee’s, fitted jeans, and kicks—that’s what she was used to

she’s got broad shoulders and toned arms

had thick bushy brows that almost formed a uni brow growing up

her mother used to have her hair always plaited since she is very superstitious, believing that “the devil lives in the woman’s hair”

yet talia’s hair texture was much different than her mother’s, maybe due to the fact that her mother always had her hair up and out of the way? Talia’s hair is much bigger, heavier, and naturally curly

+ her mother used to say some harsh things in Bulgarian about her hair — that says a lot when you’re taught to hate your hair trust!!!

when she got a little older and able to manage her own hair + afford it, She learned how to love it herself and that’s all that mattered. Her hair became v important to her, it was her source of comfort

that’s the only thing she’s high maintenance about tbh

she spends a lot of money on her hair but devacurl can still piss off

diffusing is one of her fav things to do to her hair—besides washing it, and deep conditioning, after a night of letting her hair air-dry

loves rose jam

has a embroidery machine, along with a collection of her work but only one piece is showcased in her flat. She didn’t want her place to look completely like her bába’s (Bulgarian: grandmother)

her closet is filled with many Havaianas, they’re all piled up in a wicker basket and ready to tumble over on her top shelf... if she moves one of the ceramic pots her mother left in her flat for luck, that whole shelf might come crashing down

Swears drinking guaraná the next morning cures any hangover you may have

commonly sleeps in big t-shirts and panties or not or booty shorts depending on her time of the month—it’s freeing to her

Has torn her achilles due to whatever contact sport she decided to join in on during a beach vacation with her mates

has a touch of arthritis in her shoulder

this is where her love for massages came from due to injuries she’s faced

+ It’s always a good sign when you can make someone else feel better ya know?

She’s been told she’s great with her hands ;) it all takes practice

bi mami *cringe* but she likes what she likes, and feels what she feels

she kinda has a type but doesn’t want to admit that

her mother doesn’t understand this but her father easily accepted her preference/orientation

her little brother was the first she came out to, “alright!...you still suck”

always wants to fix situations WHEN it comes to HER friends but is oblivious when it’s come to her own issues whether its in relationships/friendships +

was called out by one of her friends who she often argues/butts heads with from time to time “you’re always sticking your nose in people’s business but can’t solve your own shit!”

maybe it’s the journalist in her? she’s not afraid to ask questions or look at things from a outside perspective

her group of friends are all from different ethnic backgrounds to Indian to Ethiopian

has been in and out of relationships...maybe had one stable relationship? Outside of mc but that relationship failed after a year and she feels it has something to do with her parents and how she watched their relationship unfold but won’t openly admit that

Doesn’t like to argue in relationships and often is a little undermining with how she responses to her partner’s feelings...she’s trying to be better at being understanding and listening, her mother is like this with her father

Aquarius girl + Scorpio moon + Taurus rising

loves the water + watching water sports rather than playing them since she almost drowned once by letting her confidence get the best of her

used to be a directioner and isn’t ashamed to admit that!

take me home album stan 100% bitch there’s no point in arguing!!! Buh bye!!!

She is ashamed however to admit that she used to write for them, mostly ziam fics with a touch of Harry thrown in the mix as well...take that how u will

has a few merch pieces as well, they’re mostly loungewear + that powdery perfume they dropped. YES she still has it, no she won’t sell it to u

still supports them on the low since you know, she’s a music journalist and reviewing songs is what she makes a living for so why the hell not? They will always hold a special place in her heart. She grew with those boys

she’s not in denial like Hannah that they’re get back together

If someone wants her to film a reaction vid to zayn’s new album or release a written review? She WILL. Her top 3? 1. When loves around ft Syd 2. Outside 3. Unfuckwitable

If someone wants to hear her thoughts on Harry’s mv’s + breaking down his lyrics, she’ll tell you what you NEED to know whether U agree or not she don’t give a damn lol

Can throw hands and stomp a bitch out if she needs too. Has gotten kicked out of clubs/bars for defending her friends mainly not because someone chatted shit to her, that’s whatever but once you cross her friends? It’s on

Allegra got lucky 🦶🏼☕️ and Lucy

remained super close with jake and tim as expected...Rohan’s cool too ofc! but she’s not here for their rapping shit sorry. She’ll hit them both with a quick side eye and snarl if they start or if jake wants to recite some poetry. She’s outta here

Talia hardly had issues making friends easily with the boys it was always harder with the girls :/

they hang out all the time!

she actually became close with sammi as well, which was nice to have another girl friend around even tho they weren’t together in the house long like the others. She’s spontaneous, cute, resourceful, and kind so talia had no issue reaching out to her first to see what she was about outside of the show

don’t even ask her about what she thinks of the new seasons, she’s not here to chat shit and have her words twisted like she’s watched many of the cast deal with. If you want to talk about the over kill use of pop as the soundtrack for each season, then yeah she’ll talk to you about that

doesn’t use social media much, she finds it funny how whenever she does pop back in people are begging her to post SOMETHING so that they know that she’s alive

Pretty private

she also can’t grasp why they want her to do the bussit challenge? Lmao like hey don’t get her wrong, some of them were pretty great but she’s barely got a bum to bounce and little booties matter ofc!!! but she can’t see herself doing it unless she’s drunk off her arse!!!

maybe mc can convince her...for the fans duh!!! “Give the ppl what they want! Talia! It’s not like you won’t be around music!” “I’ll think about it...nah.”

she’s been busier since the show, able to tour more and WRITE which is what she loves to do

Her secret pleasure is watching those nurse shows and firefighting shows in her free time and those singing shows you already know that’s a given

Wanted to be some form of a nurse growing up but knew she could help people in another way

*inserts* “music Is The best Medicine” overused but true quote here!!

I feel like she’s a r&b lover

listens to those hour long rain sounds on YouTube to help herself fall asleep

she‘s not the best cook but she’s a foodie and she’s down to try new food always

occasionally her and Tim are jake’s Guinea pigs when he’s whipping something up for his menu

and hates eating the same things all the time unless it’s breakfast! There’s not too much more you can do with that

that’s also her specialty, making breakfast for u in bed

Morning afters with her are intimate but humorous. She’ll poke fun if you’re both looking crazy, always joking and in the best mood whether things got physical or not she’s just happy to have you here 🥲

I think her love language is quality time

if you’re playing her route and Lucy is the ex, and you’ve decided to fully commit to each other I deff see Lucy still trying to pull some shit outside of the show just because she feels like she can but once Talia see’s that it’s really starting to get to you despite how much you try to brush it off or snap at Lucy or even Talia!!! Talia is on Lucy’s ass in seconds! She doesn’t need a ex to ruin her possible future , “you’re not gonna fuck up this good thing I’ve got just cause you’re flimsy at relationships babe, so go be a cunt somewhere else or you’ll be sorry. I promise.”

anthem: Snow Tha Product — Shut up

#litg #litg talia #litg jake #litg Tim #litg Rohan #litg mc #litg oc #litg Hannah #litg3 #litg2 #litg moodboard #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #she’s my fav along with sammi and this is my first time getting to know sammi since I’m in talias route #I’m going to try and reduce these to not making them as lengthy lol #this has also sat in my draft for about a week now #litg sammi #litg Allegra #litg Lucy

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years

Text

Mic Drop | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

au: rapper!yoongi, photographer!oc

summary: when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting.

warnings: multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), lots of orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, cum play, cum eating, but also tender fucking lol, very brief mention of death.

word count: 29k (rip)

rating: definitely explicit

playlist: visit my playlist page and select “mic drop.” (all links to be added later)

a/n: ahhh you don’t understand how happy i am to finally put this out into the world!!! i started writing this fic back in july and after a few rewrites (more on this at the end of the post if anyone sticks around until then) she’s finally finished eee <3 also!!! this fic is brought to you courtesy of the love yourself collab! this project has been super fun to be a part of n i wanna say thank you to everyone involved who made it such a welcoming experience! you can check out the masterlist here (link will be added later f u tumblr) to read all the other amazing fics from the incredibly talented authors in this project (literally so talented??? it’s sickening???) (im so excited to finally read them all now im done w this monster lol). all the love as always <3

Introducing Runch Randa!

The host is barely audible over the chants of your brother's name as the lights dim and the arena is sent into a haze of strobe lights.

The air is already heady with body heat and fragrant with sweat from the thousands of bodies smushed together in the pit and beyond that thousands more seated in the stands, phone lights twinkling in the darkened arena like stars. A girl in your peripheral clutches a sign with MARRY ME RUNCH RANDA scrawled in sharpie, torso clad in one of the cheap merch hoodies with your brother's face printed on the front, just like hundreds of others around her.

It's a full house. No one's surprised. The Mic Drop semi-final always creates a buzz of anticipation within the hip hop scene. But this year, with your brother Namjoon returning to compete for the trophy again, there isn't an empty seat in sight.

A buzz pulses through the crowd when the bass kicks in. It makes hearts beat faster, blood run hotter, a crescendo of screams crashing violently through room, the sheer volume enough to make the walls shake in time with the stamp of impatient feet.

It's infectious. Almost. If you hadn't been here a hundred times before, countless nights the same as this one that all started to blur into one somewhere along the line. Different crowds but the same energy, the same hum of anticipation that used to get your bones rattling, your skin hot with suspense. Now it's just routine. Now you feel nothing.

Besides, you're just here to do your job. The photographer. To take pictures, not to enjoy the show. Just like always.

Five seconds. You know Namjoon's set list like the back of your hand by now. Five seconds until he takes the stage and the crowd goes wild.

One, two, three, four...

Like clockwork, the stage lights up and there he is, face blown up in painful detail across every screen. Runch Randa. His stage name pulses through the room, a mantra, chanted until throats turn sore and mouths run dry.

Dark framed glasses cover his eyes but his stance is enough to tell you that he came here to win, his presence immediately filling the empty stage with an energy that makes it impossible to look anywhere else, even for a moment.

He is already damp with sweat, neck glistening beneath the white lights. Like routine you snap a few shots when he taunts the camera with a smirk, brushing a hand through his immaculately gelled hair teasingly, mouth turning up into a grin when the audience roars.

Runch Randa walks across the stage with the ease of someone who lives and breathes for moments like these. Grabs the microphone with two hands, shiny silver rings glinting on his fingers beneath the harsh strobe lights.

You can see his opponents in the front row, nothing but rookies, the intimidation etched into their features visible even from where you stand side stage as they swallow the bitter pill that they stand no chance against him.

Once upon a time you were the same as the wide eyed fans in the pit, filled with an admiration for your brother. He was everything you wanted to be; a whirlwind of fearless, brazen passion when he got up on stage. But things changed once Namjoon won Mic Drop, claiming the trophy at the tender age of seventeen. After that he started filling arenas. Then stadiums. And you were left behind in the ruins of his whirlwind, feeling the Namjoon you once knew slip further away as Runch Randa took center stage, viewing his perfect persona through the lens of your camera with the same sour resentment as the rookies.

Because when a familiar beat permeates the arena, you can't help but close your eyes and imagine the name the crowd screams is yours. That it's you out there instead of him. It's you pouring your heart into the lyrics that you find yourself whispering unconsciously in time with your brother.

Your lyrics.

The lyrics you wrote especially for this performance. The same lyrics that would be streamed by millions, top charts and win Namjoon another stupid trophy to add to his already elaborate collection.

The only reason Namjoon still kept you around was because he couldn't write them himself.

The track ends and the Mic Drop host crosses the stage with a grin. Namjoon's arm is thrust into the air triumphantly.

"And our first finalist is...Runch Randa!"

You snap a picture of your brother smiling victoriously.

"He's gonna win. I know it."

Namjoon's manager Jimin sidles up beside you, grin plastered to his face. It's nauseating.

"Does he ever lose?" You murmur

Runch Randa! Runch Randa! Runch Randa!

Mic Drop. The most highly anticipated event in the music industry for its ability to make hip hop artists stars; as well as its tendency to break them just as easily.

Fame. Money. Glory. Just a few of the reasons why rap rookies from across the globe are desperate to compete in the ruthless battle of blood, sweat and rap that is Mic Drop.

They all think they have what it takes. That they have that special something the judges are looking for. Unfortunately, most don't even make it past the auditions phase.

When your brother, Mic Drop legend Runch Randa, announced he would be ditching his celebrity status and stadium concerts to return to his underground roots and compete for the trophy again, it raised a series of questions

Why now? What did he have to prove?

Once the press got wind of the fact that your parent's, CEO'S of the most prestigious record label in the industry Big Hit Entertainment, had run into a spot of financial trouble, everyone assumed your brother's re-entry was a master plan to win the lavish cash prize afforded to competition winners. Sure, you couldn't deny that it was partly true --- Big Hit's stocks were plummeting and a lot was at stake.

Truthfully, though, you knew your brother well enough to see that Namjoon's motives were far more selfish; to put it simply, he was greedy. Fame was his drug. Once he got a taste he could never get enough.

Of course, a cheque signed and delivered by your father's hand shut any rumors down very quickly. Your parent's were good at silencing people if it meant protecting Namjoon's reputation.

Even you, their own daughter.

The name tag labelled OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPHER was nothing but a cover up for the true reason you spent so much time at Big Hit -- writing each and every one of Namjoon's hit songs. A secret you were forced to keep as you watched your brother through a camera lens.

Which is how you find yourself as his strictly-invitation-only after party, an attempt at building momentum for the big final in just a few weeks time, with a camera in hand.

You're sat in the corner of the A-list club Jimin rented out for the event, swirling the deep red liquid in your glass with a bored disinterest as you watch your brother shake hands with company investors and big buck producers, most of which you'd never even heard of.

These things always seem to drag on, the clock ticking slower with each agonising second spent smiling courteously to uphold the supportive sister persona. Your feet are starting to hurt in your heels and all you want to do is hide away in the Big Hit studio and scribble down the lyrics floating aimlessly in your mind. That's the only good thing about these events -- they give you time to think, a rare relief in between your brother's busy schedules.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite lyricist."

A cheerful voice jolts you from your thoughts and when you blink up through the flashing lights you're met with a lazy grin belonging to Hoseok, one of the producers at Big Hit. He's an ex Mic Drop contestant himself, coming fourth and just missing out on the semi-finals three years ago. He never had the stomach for it anyway, he always says, but you never miss the rejection in his eyes.

Hoseok is also one of the only people who knows about your secret. He was hired to help you work on tracks for your brother once he made it big after all, and although he would never admit it you knew he probably had to sign a hefty NDA. Still, you were grateful to have him around — you couldn't deny you made something of a dream team together.

"Mind if I sit?" He gestures with his glass towards the empty space beside you, and you move your purse so he can squash in on the leather couch. "At least some of us are having fun, huh?" You follow his gaze to Namjoon on the dance floor, hands all over some vaguely recognizable celebrity's hips.

You grimace and swig back the remaining alcohol in your glass. "Too much fun, apparently."

Hoseok snorts, wringing his hands. "Y'know, we could get out of here if you're as bored as I am..." His words slur just slightly and you figure his confidence is a result of the amber liquor in his glass. The shy Hoseok you know well returns quickly though as he averts his eyes when you raise a brow. "Not like that! I just thought maybe we could get a drink or something...if you want to?"

You shift awkwardly, having to shout over the booming club music for him to hear you. "I should really stay here. People might ask questions if the sister of the host just...disappears."

"Right!" Hoseok smiles sheepishly then slaps his own forehead. "Right. Forget I ever asked."

You shake your head fondly and turn back towards the dance floor just in time to see Namjoon whisper in the ear of the DJ, music cutting as he takes the mic and hops up onto the small stage to address the party.

Finally! A sign he was going to wrap up the evening for good!

He clears his throat and the huddle of mingling bodies below him fall into an expectant hush.

"Uh, so I'm not usually very good at these speech things --" He pauses and the crowd laughs. You tap your knee impatiently. "But I just wanted to say thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your support. So, the next round of drinks are on me! I haven't won — yet — but its never too early to start celebrating, right?"

Namjoon raises his flute of champagne and the party-goers cheer just as a flurry of confetti drops from the ceiling. The music starts again and you're too busy picking the brightly colored paper out of your hair disgruntledly to notice the way the room suddenly quietens and the guests part down the middle like prey from a predator.

"Y/N. Look." Hoseok elbows you sharply and flies forward in his seat, whisky sloshing over the edge of his glass. "Shit! Is that--"

Is that really him? What is he doing here? He's back!

You look up just in time to see the commotion as a figure in a black hoodie weaves effortlessly to the front of the room. You don't recognise him but something about his presence gives you chills.

Namjoon is too busy throwing back his drink to notice as the man climbs the stage, his skinny jeans and high tops sticking out like a sore thumb against the sea of dress shoes and cocktail dresses. He clearly wasn't invited.

By the time your brother senses the change in the air, it's too late.

You feel your face pale, choking when the figure finally turns and lets down his hood, revealing a head of blue hair and a venomous smirk.

"Gloss?"

Namjoon turns and his smile dissolves. He just stares stiffly at the person in front of him like he's seen a ghost. In a way you suppose he has -- the ghost of his past. After all, the last time anyone saw this face was five years ago at the Mic Drop final.

It is him! It's Gloss! Why is he back?

The night that changed all of your lives. When Namjoon claimed the Mic Drop trophy and Gloss, his opponent, lost everything.

It's been years since the last time you saw Gloss but you still recognize the distinctive confidence in his gait, the way his eyes flash with something dark as he looks your brother up and down with a breathy laugh.

Namjoon is frozen, breathing heavily.

Gloss' voice is husky when he finally speaks. It makes you shiver.

"Runch Randa. Long time no see, huh?"

A beat of unbearable silence.

"What are you doing here?"

Gloss's chuckle makes Namjoon snarl. You see the way his jaw tenses and his fists clench. He's too wound up; he'll snap if you don't do something and fast.

You get to your feet but Hoseok pulls you back down sternly by the elbow. "Don't." You protest but his grip is too tight so you just fidget helplessly instead.

Something settles in the atmosphere; a nervousness that makes you itch, makes your heart pump into overdrive as you watch them draw closer, eyes narrowed like boxers in a ring, waiting for the other to make a move. Hoseok covers his eyes.

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, Runch. The competition has only just begun."

The crowd gasps when your brother's clenched fist swings at his smug opponent. The rapper ducks but not quite in time and you can't remember which comes first — the crunch that crackles through the speakers when Namjoon's ring-clad knuckles collide with Gloss' face or the ear splitting thump of his mic dropping to the ground.

The party ends abruptly. Your head spins with confusion as you watch the guests leave in shock. Seeing Namjoon up on that stage opposite his biggest opponent again makes your stomach sick, like you were reliving the events of five years ago all over again.

Deep down you had always expected this moment to come. For Gloss to return looking for revenge or something. After all, Gloss didn't just loose Mic Drop to anyone -- he lost to Namjoon, his former best friend and music partner. Namjoon and Yoongi. They were supposed to win together. But for reasons still unknown, even to you, Yoongi was disqualified moments before the final commenced, plummeting your brother into the world of fame alone.

After that, Gloss all but disappeared, his pitiful downfall nothing but a hip hop legend to those who heard it. No record deals or sponsorships or stadium tours like your brother. A legend in his own right, but for all the wrong reasons. Mic Drop banned duos from competing thereafter.

Eventually you gather the courage to head into one of the back rooms where the rappers had been hauled by security guards in hi-vis jackets after their scuffle. You can hear Jimin babbling before you even reach the door.

"What were you thinking? Punching him? You better hope the press don't get ahold of this or else you're in big trouble—"

"Let me go!" Namjoon grunts to Jimin whose face is almost as red as his own. "I'm gonna end this once and for all."

"You'll do no such thing," Jimin tuts, pushing him firmly by the shoulder so he slumps into his seat with a roll of the eyes, other hand pressing his phone to his ear. "Do you even understand the amount of damage control I'm going to have to do to? — hold on, yes, this is Park Jimin speaking..."

The room smells of disinfectant and medical gauze and you spot Namjoon instantly, surrounded by an abundance of medics. His breathing is still ragged, the vein on his neck standing to prominence, knee bouncing as he impatiently waits for his ruby knuckles to be bandaged, too engaged to notice your arrival.

To your left you're surprised to find Yoongi. He's the epitome of composure despite the heavy tension in the air. He grabs a roll of bandage and begins to patch up his own fist, eyes lighting up with something you can't put your finger on when you slide into the room.

"Well, look who decided to turn up. If it isn't Namjoon's little sister. Long time no see, Y/N."

You freeze. It's been years since you heard him say your name. It makes you feel funny.

"Yoongi." You swallow. "What are you doing here?"

His shit eating grin makes your blood boil. "I take it you haven't heard yet, then."

You roll your eyes. You should be checking on Namjoon not humoring whatever stupid motives his opponent has. "Heard what, Yoongi?"

"I'm re-entering the competition, too."

You stagger backwards. Yoongi? Re-entering the competition? Mic Drop?

"But--you were disqualified--I don't understand?"

"I was disqualified. Disqualifications are only valid for five years, according to the rule book. Who knew?" He smirks when your eyes widen. "And I think you'll find that my sentence is up. I'm gonna win this time, once and for all."

"I don't think you know what you're doing, Yoongi—"

"There's more." He licks his lips. "I know your secret."

Your heart stops, mouth running dry. You throw a glance over your shoulder. Namjoon is still engaged, swatting away a medic's ice pack with a scowl, thankfully too busy to notice when you draw closer, voice a harsh whisper. "W-what secret?"

Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle, wincing just barely when he touches a damp cloth to the cut in his lip, a red splotch forming on the fabric. "You know exactly what secret I'm talking about, Y/N. Wouldn't it be ironic if someone slipped a tip off to the judges panel about Namjoon's ghost writer—"

"Shut the fuck up Min Yoongi or I'll break your nose for real this time!" Namjoon's voice bellows behind you, making you jolt. He charges at Yoongi, lip quivering like he might make his threat a reality. "Leave her out of this!"

Yoongi's nostrils flare. "Everyone knows she's a part of this, Namjoon, whether she likes it or not!"

All eyes look your way, as if expecting you to say something, but Yoongi's words fall cluelessly on you. You hadn't so much as thought about him in years. What did you have to do with this stupid ongoing feud with your brother that he refused to let go?

You glance between them, settling for sending a blank look at Yoongi and shuffling over to Namjoon instead. Your brother seems prideful at your show of allegiance. Yoongi scoffs.

"Namjoon?" Your mouth is dry with the shock of the situation and it comes out sounding funny, like you're wary of him. A gash above his eyebrow starts to dribble crimson. "Shit, you're hurt..."

"Get off me." Namjoon shakes his shoulder violently and you gingerly remove your hand, brows furrowed at his rejection. He directs his attention to Yoongi. "And you. You want a fight? It's on."

"Joon!—" He waves you off. It's pointless anyway. When he gets this rash there's no changing his mind.

"You want to end this thing once and for all? Then let's do this. You and me. At the final."

Yoongi raises a brow. "Deal. I'd shake your hand but you might try and knock me into next week again."

Namjoon doesn't laugh.

A hoard of security guards bust into the room and head straight for Yoongi. "Finally. What the fuck do I even pay these people for?"

"Get off me!"

You place a hand on Namjoon's shoulder and find that he's trembling. Rage? Nerves? Adrenaline? All three, probably, if the vacant blackness behind his eyes is anything to go by.

You're already trailing behind your brother when you hear Yoongi's voice carry down the hall. "I'll see you at the final! When I win. Secrets always find a way to come back and bite you in the ass, Runch. You should know that better than anyone!"

Namjoon begs you to come as his plus one to some scummy gig Gloss is rumored to be performing at tonight. To check out the competition, he says, but you recognise the way he nibbles his lip as he does.

Fear. He'll never admit it but Namjoon is scared he’s going to lose.

You agree to join him because you think it may put his mind at rest.

As Namjoon's manager, Jimin has all sorts of connections, mumbling thank you's into the head set sitting around his ears like a permanent accessory and scribbling down the address of some club down town.

The driver your parent's hired to escort Namjoon around as a paparazzi safety precaution drops the three of you a block away; the car's black tinted windows and shiny number plate would be out of place in such a scummy part of town. The plan would only work if you went unnoticed. Namjoon couldn't risk running into a Runch Randa fangirl tonight. It was technically against the Mic Drop rules to have any intel on your opponents, after all.

You don't like to tell Namjoon that his disguise won't do much for blending in. He dons a designer cap pulled down low over his face, long black coat drowning his figure and expensive leather boots crunching against broken glass and cigarette stumps as you near the club. It's too put together to seem natural, a dead give away that he doesn't belong here among the sea of ripped jeans and septum rings and tattoo sleeves around you. Even with a patterned bandana covering half of his face, the sculpted cheekbones and piercing eyes smudged effortlessly with black eyeliner poking over the top scream celebrity.

Luckily for you, the plain dress and knit cardigan hugging your body doesn't alert the suspicions of the bouncers cross armed at the entrance.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose and prods a half empty solo cup discarded outside with his toe, Jimin practically jittering with nerves and barely avoiding a stumbling drunk as you approach the men who stand at nearly double your size. Namjoon said it was best that you acted as spokesperson tonight — the only reason he even brought you along was because nobody would know your face and your position at Big Hit allowed you to pull some strings.

Your fingers shake as you produce a photography license from your bag, heart pounding as one of the menacing bouncers raises his eyebrow beneath the deep red hue emanating from a tacky neon sign posted above the door.

Luckily the breath you're holding is leaving you in a relieved thank you as he nods, moves to the side and gestures for your entourage to dip inside with the rest of the crowd. Namjoon charges ahead into the darkness and you follow him with an awkward smile to make up for his rude demeanour.

No turning back now...

Music hits like a deafening wave, blasting from the speakers at a volume that makes the walls shiver and your head throb. The club is alive with reckless anticipation, a sea of sweaty bodies gyrating on the dance floor in time with the pulsing beat. The energy swallows you whole, knuckles turning white as you cling to Jimin's sleeve, letting him elbow through the throng of indistinguishable faces that glitter beneath the tacky disco ball dangling haphazardly from the ceiling.

The crowd eventually spits you back out in a quieter corner of the club, Namjoon already making a beeline for the seedy bar. "There's a whiskey sour with my name on it and it's the only thing that'll get me through this shit." He murmurs as he crosses the room and occupies a bar stool beside a couple mid heavy make out session, pulling the hat closer around his face.

With a sigh, you turn back to Jimin who is eyeing up the strip pole and the exotic dancers nearby with wide eyes. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

The italian leather couch you slump into is suspiciously sticky beneath your bare thighs. "He needs to get the apprehension out of his system," you counter. "Once he sees that there's no competition he'll be able to take him down."

"I hope you're right." Jimin is wringing his hands, not knowing what to do with them now his headset is sat on the backseat of the car a block away. "I'd hate for this to knock his confidence."

"What?" You snort. "You think Gloss might actually beat him?"

Namjoon is the best rapper around, there's no debate. Nobody could beat him. Not even Gloss.

"No." His pursed lips say otherwise. You raise a brow. Jimin lowers his voice. "Maybe. Namjoon's rash. Gets ahead of himself. If he doesn't pull it together he'll play straight into Yoongi's hands..."

"Shows starting." Your open mouth snaps shut when the cushions dip beside you and Namjoon throws his arms over the back of the couch, swirling his half empty glass with an overconfident smirk.

Jimin averts his gaze. He knows he probably said too much. Sure, you're technically his colleague but you're also Namjoon's sister, the daughter of his boss. If Namjoon had overheard his position at Big Hit could have been called into question.

You would have to grill him more about Yoongi's motives later. Namjoon was right; the show really was starting.

Lights send the club into a dizzying purple haze, a new beat rumbling through the club that makes your skin prickle. It's almost drowned out by the electricity in the air, the frantic stamping of feet, the brazen chants of a single name over and over that fills you with a funny tingly feeling.

Gloss! Gloss! Gloss!

Something about it feels dirty.

The crowd is packed tightly together in the pit now. Even from where you sit, avoiding club goers eyes on the opposite side of the room, you find your attention glued to the stage. The set up is nothing like the one your brother occupies every night; just a wooden structure, painted black at one point but scuffed and scratched by the soles of shoes that boast the history of the place. The speakers are propped on broken crates, no big LED screens or back up dancers like your parents hire out for Namjoon.

Though none of that seems to matter when your gaze falls on the sole microphone stand placed centre stage beneath a blinding spotlight. It's the only familiar parallel between the two performers. It's a symbol of an artist, of the passion that comes with being up on that stage — any stage. It belongs to a performer.

You have to peer through a sea of frantic waving hands on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the combat boots taking the stage in time with the music rushing in your ears, mouth dry at the silver rings glinting under the harsh lights as fingers curl around the microphone.

"Yoongi." Namjoon grunts beside you, back stick straight and alert now. The traces of his previous smirk have been erased, a line appearing at the bridge of his nose. "There he is."

Yoongi throws his head back, breathes in the stuffy air that carries the shouts and whistles of the crowd like it's the sweetest oxygen money can buy.

The stench of beer burns your eyes but you're scared you'll miss a glimpse of his messy blue hair, or the eyes drunk on the fierce energy pulsing through the club to stop watching even if you tried.

When his voice permeates the room it's husky, burning through you like a shot of dry whisky. Namjoon stiffens, loosens the bandana around his face so he can see better.

Is that Runch Randa?

"Namjoon..." You hiss. "People are looking."

"Shut up." He grits, jaw tightening as Yoongi's lyrics cut through the tension like a serrated knife.

The way he moves across the stage like he owns it is exhilarating, makes the blood in your veins pump hot, limbs turning to lead as the crowd hangs off his every word.

He's good. Great, even. His lyrics give you goosebumps and you realise you haven't felt like this about a performance in a long time. Passionate. Yoongi is exhilarating to watch and it shakes you to the core.

It's then that it dawns on you. The reason Namjoon feels threatened is because there is a real chance that he might loose everything.

Gloss might take the trophy once and for all.

You only rip your eyes away from the stage when you feel Namjoon stand up beside you, his body disappearing into the crowd.

You get up too. "Leave him." You watch Jimin mouth. "He's just angry, he'll calm down—"

You don't care about Namjoon, not when the air is suddenly too thick, too heavy to breathe. Not when your hands sweat and you heave with a desire to run from reality and the suffocating smell of stale cigarette smoke that made your throat burn, like you can't get your body to breathe.

"Y/N? Where are you going?"

You swear you're floating, feet never seeming to quite touch the ground as you battle against the hazy dizziness that makes the room spin, ignoring Jimin's exasperated shouts of your name as you push through the gaps between bodies and pray your sense of direction is still intact enough to pull your outstretched arms towards the exit.

It's dark outside when you spill out of the exit, spluttering and heaving for air.

The brick is cool against your back when you slide down a nearby wall, hugging your knees.

A deep breath. In then out. Your chest loosens, lungs begin to feel full enough again.

Until a gravelly voice rings out into the night, clearer than the thump of unintelligible music from inside the club that makes your head pound.

"So it was you I saw back there. Good to know I'm not seeing things."

Even before you lift your face from between your knees you know who it belongs to. The single person you want to see least in the world at this very moment.

"Go away." You grumble but all that follows is a low chuckle as Yoongi slumps down next to you, ensuring to leave a safe distance between your crouched bodies.

It's funny. You had been preparing yourself to see him all night but now he's actually here in front of you, your mouth is dry.

He looks the same as he always did; dark eyes that burn hot as they scan your face, cocky smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. His brow looks wearier than you remember though, too weary for a man of twenty three. The only indication that time has passed since him and your brother were best friends.

"I assume Namjoon sent you here, then?"

The mention of your brother's name offers you the courage you need to look at him directly. His forehead still gleams with sweat in the dim moonlight, hair slicked back with a red bandana. There's a ring around his eye now, black and bruised. He must have taken off the black hoodie he donned on stage, left now in only a white vest which exposes his arms and to your dismay makes your blood run a little hotter.

"He's inside. I just came along because I had to." You mumble. "I'm not his spy, you know."

"Sure as shit seems like it." Yoongi spits with an amused chuckle, head lolling on his shoulders to face you. "He worried I might tell everyone about his little secret? Or was he trying to find his own leverage?"

A hot anger boils beneath your skin, rising all the way to your cheeks. Namjoon wouldn't do that would he? He didn't play that way. He didn't need to get an upper hand on Yoongi. He just wanted to see what he was up against.

"What's your problem, Yoongi?" The smirk on his mouth never falters, something glinting behind his eyes that tells you he wants to get a rise out of you. Even so, you can't help the way your voice raises, staggering to your feet. He chuckles darkly in response. "You get off on being an asshole or something?"

"You're too naive. What's so bad about telling the truth?" He closed the space between you until he's hovering above you, breath warm against your cheek. Your heart starts to race."What's so bad about taking back what is mine?"

Your breath hitches when his hand presses into the wall beside your head, effectively cornering you beneath his chest. "You could ruin his career."

Yoongi snorts. "What? Like he ruined mine?"

A few beats of silence. His eyes scan your face and it makes your stomach feel funny. You push at his chest, sucking in a shaky breath when he backs off a little and you realise part of you is weirdly disappointed that he did.

"Yoongi I don't know what happened between you and Namjoon—"

"No. You wouldn't know." He scorns, slinging his hands in his pockets, face darker now at the mention of his feud with your brother. "Because Namjoon loves secrets right? Namjoon likes to use people, Y/N. Just like he's using you now, to get to the top. And then he'll throw you away just like he did with me, sweetheart."

"Namjoon wouldn't do that." You bite your lip, the words leaving your tongue sounding a little less sure than you intend.

"Why? What makes you think you're any different?"

"He's my brother."

"I was his brother once too, remember?" He swallows, shaking his head in disbelief at your denial. "The only blood that matters to Namjoon is the blood shed to get him to the top."

You wrap your arms around your torso instinctively. Yoongi's words cut too deep. Maybe something inside of you thought Yoongi was right?

No. You came here to protect Namjoon yet here you were allowing his enemy to get inside your head.

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi." You spit, enjoying the way his eyes widen at the venom lacing your tone. "I made a mistake coming here."

Before you could brush past him and escape the heat running through your blood stream which feels fuzzier than hatred should, a hand curls around your wrist.

"Shit. Looks like someone's on your trail."

A quick glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jimin, face hidden by the visor of his black cap but recognisable none the less. He speaks a few words to the bouncer, probably asking if they saw you come out.

"Oh no."

The bouncer gestures in your direction. Jimin's eyes pause for a second as they skim across your form stood rigid with shock and your heart falls out of your ass when he starts in the direction of where you stand way too close to Yoongi unable to move a single muscle as you brace for discovery. To pay for your betrayal of your brother.

"You coming or what?" Yoongi snaps you back to reality with a tug on your arm, feet stumbling over each other as he drags you behind him further down the alley and around a nearly pitch black corner, too far away from the street lights to be basked in their orange glow.

"What the fuck, Yoongi?" You try to shrug out of his grasp, heart beating faster when you see the flat look on his face. "Let go of me!"

Yoongi comes to an abrupt halt. "Listen, I'm trying to save your ass here. You want to get caught? Go on then! Not my problem."

You nibble your lip, glancing one way at the dark alley and the other at Jimin pacing up and down the street with furrowed brows.

"Just trust me, Y/N."

Jimin's footsteps get closer and closer. It's now or never.

Tightening your jaw, you turn back to Yoongi and nod. The words feel foreign as they pass your lips. "I...trust you."

With that, Yoongi grabs your hand and breaks into a sprint

Turning the corner, the alley meets a dead end. The back of the club is just as run down as the front, littered with cracked beer bottles and cigarette stumps. The sign above the door labelled NO ENTRY doesn't offer any light and apparently Yoongi doesn't listen to directions because he fishes in his back pocket for a key, sliding the bolt and pushing on the bar to hold the door open with a small nod for you to go inside first.

With a deep breath, you do.

The door closes behind you with a jingle of chains, cutting off the slither of moonlight it provided and sending you into complete darkness. You hear Yoongi slide the bolt back across and then he fumbles for you in the darkness, your body pulled down next to his with a yelp so that you're out of direct view of the window which looks inside the room.

"I think they followed us." His voice is silk but there's an underlying insinuation. Be quiet.

Yoongi's eye level now, knees squeezed up against yours in the cramped space beneath the window ledge. Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, able to see the way he scans your face when he thinks you aren't looking. The way he grumbles and looks away when you catch him.

There's not time to dwell as you hear footsteps turn the corner, tracking all the way to the door where the bolt rattles, a sleeve wiping the window and pressing a cupped face to the glass.

"She's not here, man. You must have seen someone else."

It was Hoseok. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Countless all nighters in the studio together does that to a person. Had Jimin called him all the way down here to look for you?

Jimin chimes in quickly. "I could have sworn it was her..."

The voices trail off as they retreat back down the alley, around to the front of the club.

A sigh escapes you, head falling against the wall in relief. When you open your eyes Yoongi is looking at you again. There's something pained in his expression, unspoken words visible in the way he bites his cheek to stop them from spilling out into the darkness.

His fingers are still wrapped around your arm, an electricity buzzing through your veins when you feel him lean in closer, pulling you towards him just barely.

His lips. Chapped and so close to yours. God. You think you want to kiss them. Just to know how it feels. You've never seen them up this close before. Not close enough to feel his hot breaths puffing against your forehead. Not close enough that if you just lifted your chin a little bit...

Yoongi lets out an embarrassed cough, jolting you out of your thoughts. "That was a close one, huh?" The spot where his hand resided feels cold when he rips it away.

Yoongi's face is wiped of any emotion again. He's not completely slick though as when he finally speaks again he sounds husky, the betrayal in his voice surprising even him.

"Are you okay?"

What were you supposed to say to that? I almost got caught with my brother's enemy and then thought about kissing said enemy. No, I don't think I am okay.

"Fine. Thanks."

Yoongi offers you a hand, getting to his feet and pulling you up after him before he leans across your body to flick on the lights.

The yellowish stream burns your eyes but allows you to take in the room around you. There's a keyboard in the corner, piles of sheet music strewn across the wooden desk beside it. A pair of speakers hooked up to a worn looking sound machine. A mic and a pair of headphones slung over the back of the mismatch wheely chair tucked beneath a desk.

A studio.

He must notice the way you look around with wide eyes, redness creeping up his neck as he busies himself by kicking some of the clutter on the floor behind the desk. "Wasn't expecting guests."

It definitely wasn't the high tech producing set up you were provided with back at Big Hit, no hifi system or fancy computer programmes. The furniture was mismatch, like someone had collected a bunch of spare puzzle pieces and shook them up in the box until they made a picture.

Somehow of the pieces still manage to seem somehow inherently Yoongi; the basketball tee with GLOSS on the back draped over his chair, even the empty water bottles overflowing in the trash can. The tiny framed picture of a younger looking Yoongi next to a woman you think you recognise but can't quite put your finger on.

"Genius lab?" You snort, nodding towards the sign hanging haphazardly above the monitor.

Yoongi shrugs. "What can I say? It's true."

"Confident." You muse.

You share a smile. It's strange. Familiar. The way his eyes crinkle and even the husk of the chuckle that follows reminding you of when things were good, back when you considered Yoongi to be a sort of friend. Before things got fucked up.

"You'll take it back when I win."

Old habits might not die hard but the rational part of your brain registers the implication of his words, even beneath his playful facade. The studio suddenly feels cold. Nostalgia dissipates. You remember why you're here.

"Why didn't you just let them find me?"

"You know as well as I do that Namjoon risks getting disqualified if Jimin causes a scene and gets himself caught snooping around here."

You huff an exasperated breath. For all Yoongi's talk of having the upper hand he sure did seem reluctant to use it. "Isn't that what you want? What's stopping you? Want to drag it out or something?"

Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, crossing the room and ducking into a drawer in the far corner. He returns with two glasses and a murky bottle of something strong, already a quarter empty as he pours some out. He offers the second glass towards you but you wave it away.

"Suit yourself." He takes a swig of the dark liquid, squeezes his eyes shut. "Because I want to win fair and square."

You shake your head. "All of this. Just for a stupid trophy?"

He eyes you over the rim of his glass, swirling the liquid with an overconfidence that makes you grit your teeth in annoyance. "So Namjoon knows how it feels to lose something he loves." He looks you up and down then, coughing and turning his head when you notice it. "Yeah. I guess it's for the trophy."

Yoongi is despicable, you think. Is he really so fame hungry that he will destroy anyone standing in his way to get it? Even Namjoon? Sure, your brother has his faults but if there is one thing you know it's that he loves being on that stage. What happened between them that makes Yoongi think he deserves it more?

"So its a revenge thing, then. And what if you lose, huh?" The way your voice raises makes you wince. Yoongi slams his glass down and flashes you an are you serious face.

"Y/N don't you see? I have nothing to lose. Namjoon already took everything. My life, my family, my fame. Everything. You know how it feels to have it all dangled in front of your face? And then get it ripped away like it was never yours to begin with?"

Yes. You'd never tell him that, of course. But you did know. You had to watch Namjoon perform your songs every night through a camera lens. Snapping shots of him in his element and wishing those picture perfect moments were yours. What did Yoongi know?

"I see him on the big screen, on stages I dreamed of. Crowds screaming his name. It was supposed to be me, Y/N. Meanwhile I'm sat here," Yoongi gestures to the shabby studio you find yourself in, liquid sloshing over the edge of his glass. "In clothes I printed myself, making music in a shitty club for free because nobody will even listen to my shit."

He's panting by the end of his spiel, knuckles pressed to his eyes as he tries to regain his composure before he lets too many of his weaknesses show. Something resonates inside you, softening the anger towards him with what you recognize as sympathy.

"Then why do you still do it? Make music?"

"Because it's the only thing that never left me alone."

You sigh. While you're collecting your thoughts something catches your eye — a Polaroid picture, tacked onto the plasterboard behind his computer. It's of a smiling Yoongi and much to your surprise, a smiling Namjoon, arms wrapped around each other like nothing could ever break them apart. You briefly wonder why he kept it, if he hated Namjoon so much.

You turn to him again.

"Don't make me regret saying this but you're good, Yoongi. Like really good. Your performance earlier it was...amazing. I mean that."

Yoongi's stern eyes soften with surprise. He almost seems pained, like the simple compliment means more to him than you expected.

"So, you don't have to do this. Big Hit has connections, I could get in touch with a couple record labels--"

He stiffens again. "What? Are you my manager now? As if any record label would take a chance on the biggest Mic Drop loser in history, Y/N, don't talk shit."

You trail off. It's true and you know it.

He swallows hard. "You know what I think? I think you're here because you know that I might actually win this thing. As much as Namjoon knows how to play dirty he doesn't have the talent. He never did! That's why he's using you to write his material." His laugh makes you shiver. "How can he even call himself an artist? It's pathetic."

That's all it takes for your patience to snap. Is the way your blood boils with a sudden and insatiable rage because of the way he bad mouthed your brother? Surely you didn't actually believe him? No, everything he said was a lie -- it had to be.

Your hand curls into a fist, anger spilling over as you charge at him full force. Yoongi barley flinches, his fingers deftly curling around your wrist before it can meet his jaw and pulling you into him at the waist so he can slot his bottom lip between yours.

"Fuck yo— hmf?"

Your eyes widen as you register his slightly chapped lips moving against your own, remnants of the amber liquid he poured down his throat earlier sour on your tongue, a surprised gasp leaving you when Yoongi flips your bodies and slams your back roughly against the wall, settling himself between your legs.

"Gonna finish what Namjoon started, sweetheart?" When he pulls back you're panting, eyes trained to his parted lips with wonder.

He kissed you. Yoongi kissed you. For real.

His warm breath still mingles with yours as you try to choke a response, anything. Yoongi's eyes have a dark glint to them and god you should hate him for winding you up like this but being this close to him just feels too good.

Then, before you can think better of it, you grab his collar with your free hand and smash your lips together in a tangle of teeth and tongue that makes your entire body burn with relief.

The groan he lets out against your mouth tells you he wants this too. "Fuck, couldn't help myself." He pants. "You're driving me crazy."

You feel a dampness throb between your legs when his hands tangle in your hair, lips never leaving yours as he pulls you across the room and drops into his chair.

A whimper is pulled from your lips when his palms cup the flesh of your ass beneath your dress, though it's not in protest, dizzy with desire when he pulls you into his lap and bucks his hips so that his half hard cock brushes against your clothed heat.

"See what you do to me?" He pulls back to smirk at your swollen lips, a much needed breath entering your lungs, filling you with another bout of restless desire as Yoongi's eyes scan your face hungrily. It feels too good even though it should be so wrong.

"W-we shouldn't." Your mouth is dry, words coming out a little unsure which gives away just how much you want to keep going. "What if--"

A particularly harsh thrust of his hips makes you moan softly, head falling into the crook of Yoongi's neck. He growls when he catches sight of the growing wet patch on the front of his jeans, testament of his effect on you as much as you hated to admit it.

"What if Namjoon finds out?" His hand shoots between your legs, pads of his fingers tracing your clothed core, the coarse lace of your panties adding a delicious layer of friction against your folds. The delicate touch sets your body alight, skin burning to let go and submit to the feeling despite the voice in the back of your mind screaming no!

"What if Namjoon finds out that I make you this wet?" Your panties are sticking to your heat by now so it would have been futile to deny it. He smiles smugly when your legs shake and you throw an arm around his neck to keep your balance.

"S-shut up." It's meek and it only makes him laugh darkly, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer to nibble on the lobe of your ear.

If you didn't know any better you would think he was unaffected by this. Your chest heaves with desire and your hands itch with a yearning to touch him but Yoongi appears the epitome of composure, maintaining sinful eye contact as he pulls your panties to the side. The only give away is the way his cock twitches against your leg with each jerk of his hips, a funny sense of pride erupting in your chest knowing that he wants you too.

Open mouthed kisses drag down your jaw, lingering at your neck. His teeth nibble at the sensitive skin, tongue laving out to soothe the sting and it feels too good to worry about the bruises his sinful lips leave behind as a reminder of your weakness Namjoon could never know of.

"Look so pretty marked up, sweetheart." The pet name makes your clit throb, head throwing back as his mouth attacks the sensitive spot on your neck like he knew it was there all along. It's almost concerning how quickly he has you falling apart in his lap. How easily he turned you into a shuddering mess, barely able to form coherent sentences in between breathy gasps at the sensation of him making you his for all to see. "Show everyone that you're mine, hm?"

When Yoongi removes his hand from your core you slap a hand over your mouth to stop a whine of protest from escaping. Yoongi's eyes narrow, palming his bulge through his trousers as he watches you writhe in his lap with amusement, every twist of your hips falling short and providing no relief for your pulsing clit, already missing the feeling of his hand cupping your mound and considering how it would feel skin on skin—

Oh god. What am I doing?

You let out a groan, but not the good kind.

"What?" Yoongi seems to read your mind, snapping you back to reality when he pulls your panties to the side. He circles your entrance teasingly and you can't help the way you whimper. "Don't act like you don't want to sink down on my cock, Y/N. You could ride me right here and nobody would ever know."

"H-how can I trust you?" It would ruin Namjoon if he found out. He was already stressed, already growing distant from you. This had to stop before it went too far. Before there was no going back.

"Because I can make you feel like this." A lithe finger slides into your heat, easy because of how you drip over his hand. "Think about how much better my cock would stretch you out, hm?"

Each drag of his finger against your velvety walls has you squeezing your eyes shut. The sensation is overwhelming, and when he adds a second digit you feel your repose crumble. Lust seems to crash over you like a wave, clouding your thought with a hazy desire to just give in and let Yoongi take you, uncaring about the repercussions now as you push down to meet his thrusts so he hits deeper than before.

"Fine." Your words are slurred, too busy chasing the feeling between your legs to see the way it makes Yoongi's eyes light up. "J-just hurry up and fuck me Yoongi."

"Well well," Yoongi settles back against the wall, looking between your bodies to watch the way his fingers disappear into your soaking cunt with an expression almost primal, his own breathing ragged now as he tries to resist turning you over and fucking you into tomorrow then and there. "Never thought I'd actually get to hear my name on your lips like this. Say it again."

A sharp flick of his wrist has you falling against his chest, pulsing around him. "Yoongi!"

"That's right," He licks his lips, free hand unzipping his jeans to relieve the pressure on his length. "Me. Yoongi." The way he mimicks your breathless tone makes a hot blush rise in your cheeks, aware of just how fucked out you must seem right now but too horny to care. "Been waiting for this. Ah shit!"

You take it upon yourself to hurry along the process by reaching into the waistband of his boxers to wrap a hand around the shaft of his cock. It pulses at your touch, the pace of Yoongi's fingers in your cunt stuttering as he flies forward, knuckles on the hand gripping your thigh turning white as he tries to regain some control while you stroke him firmly.

"Fuck your hands. Sinful. Knew they would be. God you're going to kill me if you keep this up, I swear." The worlds tumble from his mouth in one heaving breath as you twist your palm around his sticky head, enjoying the way his thighs twitch with a want to buck into your fist and his nose flares with the effort it takes to resist.

His cock feels girthy in your palm, hot and heavy as you help him shimmy his jeans around his thighs. When his cock slaps back against his stomach, impossibly hard and leaking with anticipation you feel your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" He almost taunts.

You bite your lip. "I don't think you're gonna fit."

It must have brushed his ego because the tip seemed to flush an even deeper shade of red. "Wanna sit on it and find out?"

A nod is all it takes for Yoongi to slide your panties to the side, slapping your hands away to grip the base of his cock and line it up with your entrance.

You both groan in unison when he pushes into your heat, the stretch burning with every inch, fingers clutching the fabric of his tank top at the sensation of finally being full.

"Fuuuck." You see his tongue snake out to wet his bottom lip when his hips finally join flush to yours, hair sticking to his already damp forehead as he allowed you to adjust. "So fucking tight for me, princess."

His cock throbs impossibly deep inside you when you unconsciously clench around it, feeling your face flush as you whimper for him to get on with it and fuck you already.

"Shh, patience." His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, setting it free with a pop. "Move."

At his command you do, bracing yourself on his shoulders. You raise up, feeling every ridge of his length until just the tip remains inside your heat. Then you are slamming back down and flushing at the groan which tumbles from his chest.

"Such a slut, taking my cock so well." His palms feel hot on your hips, dragging you up and down through the motion that has you panting.

Yoongi looks utterly amazed at the visual of you sinking down onto his length, unable to stop the satisfied grin settling into his features when you cry out after a particularly deep thrust. "Imagine if Namjoon could see you now. Falling apart on my cock?"

"Can we — hnng — not talk about my brother when you're in my fucking guts?"

"Why?" A whine leaves you when he slips out of your cunt, grabs you by the ass, and hoists you to your feet, roughly bending you over the desk until your cheek presses against the cold surface. Yoongi tugs your hands behind your back, cock already sinking back into your heat before you can protest at the emptiness. "Worried he'll think you're a slut for taking my cock when I'm the one whose going to fucking end him?"

"Yes!" You cry, unable to hold back now as you feel his cock hit deeper than before with every ram inside you that fills the room with the slapping sound of his pistoning hips, brushing your sweet spot each time and making the coil in your stomach tighten.

God, this is so wrong and you know it. You know it shouldn't feel so good when Yoongi's hands tangle in your hair, pulling you so that your back arches flush against his sweaty chest. Know how many people would be hurt if they knew how much you love it, how you push back into his thrusts, eager for more.

"Shit, you're squeezing so tight." His voice sounds strained now, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him shudder. "Close, shit. Where can I—"

"Inside me. Want you to f-fill me."

"Holy sh— always wanted to hear you say that. Okay, fuck."

A few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling inside you, the feeling of his release coating your walls enough to have you falling over the edge unexpectedly too, vision turning black as you cum with a cry.

The only sound that fills the silence is your heavy breaths mingling with his as your arms give out. You're silently grateful, as much as you hated to admit it, for the strong arm around your torso that holds you to him when your legs turn to jelly.

Yoongi slips out of you, admiring the way his cum leaks down your trembling thighs. The emptiness makes you keen, clenching around nothing.

"Made such a mess of you, kitten."

The sound of his zipper makes your heart sink, stiffening as he tucks his spent cock back into his pants. For a second you think he's going to leave you like this, shame caressing your cheeks as you envision how fucked out you must look.

But then, Yoongi's palms are back on your thighs as he kicks the chair from under his desk and pushes you roughly onto the cushion. "Think you can go again for me, princess?"

"Wha--?" His swollen lips make you loose your words, the way his tongue tantalizingly caresses your bottom lip drawing a choked whine from your throat instead.

"Fuck, always thought you'd make such pretty noises." It's mumbled gruffly under his breath, like he's confirming it with himself rather than addressing you. He pulls back to stare at you spread out for him, lidded eyes widening at the visual of your skirt pooled around your waist, legs kept open by the rough grip around your thigh that exposes your swollen slit. The way your arousal drips down your inner thighs along with his own release has him swallowing thickly. "Like being filled with my cum, huh? Such a slut."

Yoongi traces his fingers up your inner thighs, thumb applying a gentle pressure to your clit, legs struggling to fall shut around his hand to escape the over stimulation. "P-please Yoongi, I can't."

"You will." It's growled against your neck, hot breath making you shudder. "I know you can take it."

A knee slips between your thighs, holding them open so his fingers can deftly continue their brutal attack on your sensitive folds. Each drag of his knuckle up your slit makes you whimper, the way the pads of his fingers rub firm circles into your clit making it pulse. The feeling is more intense than before, borderline agonizing as a warmth builds in the pit of your stomach again.

Eventually the pain starts to dissipate, turns into something closer to pleasure when you feel a single digit slip into your heat, the slide made easy by the fact that his cock had already stretched you out and his release lubed you up nicely. Each pump makes a lewd squelching noise that has you biting your lip to stop from groaning unabashedly, Yoongi's gaze fixed to the sight of his knuckles disappearing inside you.

When you buck up into his touch again, desperately circling your hips to try and grind your clit against the heel of his hand, Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle. The muscles in your cunt tighten, skin damp with sweat as you fuck yourself on his hand in search of a second high that burns ever closer.

"Look at you, all needy again from just one finger. All fucked out again even after I stretched you out."

With that Yoongi removes his hand from your heat all together, leaving you gasping and clenching around nothing as your release falls farther away, unable to resist the groan of frustration that passes your lips.

"Don't stop!" Your head lolls back against the chair, thighs trembling with desperation to feel his touch again. "I was so close--"

"Suck." Yoongi raises his fingers to your lips. You notice the way they gleam, sticky and white in the studio lighting. The pads of his fingers smear the wetness across your swollen lips as he pushes for entry which you gave to him eagerly, humming around the digits. "Be a good girl, hm?"

He all but groans when your eyes flutter open and lock with his, tongue swirling around his fingers teasingly, enjoying the taste of your own arousal mixed with the saltiness of his cum, almost in sensory overload at the thought of how much better his cock would feel in your throat.

"That's it." A knuckle drags down your cheek possessively, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good girl."

A sticky trail of spit follows Yoongi's fingers when they leave your mouth with a lewd pop, your breaths coming out shaky and desperate as you watch his eyes zone in on your aching core.

The sight of him dropping to his knees is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, whimpering when his hot breath grazes over your throbbing clit. "Wanna taste you for myself."

And with that his tongue runs a rough stripe up your slit, eyes falling shut as he hums against your folds contentedly.

"Fuck Yoongi!" Your eyes roll back as he laps a few teasing licks across your bud, body turning to putty when his hands roughly pull you down the chair so that he can attach his mouth to your mound fully.

A guttural moan rises from his chest when you grind your core against his face, knuckles turning white as you clutch he chair like it's the only thing keeping you grounded, stopping you from floating away and losing yourself to the feeling of Yoongi's tongue teasing your already wrecked hole. An impatience rises in your stomach every time his nose grazes your clit, pushing your hips more forcefully to chase the relief it brings.

"So eager." You knew he'd have a smirk on his face if his lips weren't already occupied, wrapping around your clit and sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have your fingers tangling in the blue locks that spill loose from his bandanna now, holding him to your core so that you can rock against his tongue easier.

"Close sweetheart?" The way your chest heaves and little gasps spill past your lips as you chase your high must give away the effect he is having on you. You nod breathlessly and to your surprise Yoongi places a chaste kiss to your folds before pulling back all together, leaving you writhing and desperate for him to make cum for the second time. "Did I give you permission?"

Your heart beats furiously as your release slips away once again. Yoongi only stares at you intently. His lips glisten with a mixture of both of your releases and the thought alone makes your core ache. A loose shake of your head makes his eyes darken, licking some of the dampness from around his lips. "Gotta use your words, baby. Did I say you could cum?"

Dizzy with arousal, your words sound slurred and alien to your own ears. "N-no."

"Good. Now ask nicely."

"Please." It comes out whinier than you anticipate but Yoongi's hands twitch against the flesh of your thighs, giving away the fact that he likes it despite the way his mouth presses into a tight and unforgiving line. "Can I cum? Please?"

A deep laugh leaves his bitten lips. "I don't think you deserve it." His head dips back down between your legs, sloppy kisses pressed to each of your thighs as he edges ever closer to your dripping core. "I want you to count, okay?"

"O-oh, okay." He attacks your clit again, tongue swirling where his teeth graze across the pulsing bud. You're so sensitive that you're sure just the light brushes of his lips will send you over the edge if he keeps going.

"G-gonna cum if you--"

"Don't." The authority in his voice makes you gasp. "Didn't I say to count? One."

"Fuck!" Hot tears streak your cheeks when he pulls back so just his hot breath ghosts across your glistening folds. "I..I was so close!"

"Hey, hey." His hand reaches up to stroke your cheek, a strangely gentle action in comparison to the bruising grip on your thigh. "You're doing so good. Trust me, okay? Wanna make you feel good."

For the second time that night you nod, putting all your trust into him for reasons you are too fucked out to dwell on there and then.

When his tongue snakes out to tease your clenching hole again it draws an agonizing cry from you, the coil already tightening in your belly. You shut your eyes.

"Don't" The hand on your chin tightens, forces you to look down at where his face is buried between your legs, authority lacing his words again. "Keep your eyes on me."

As soon as you lock eyes he gets to work again, humming out a "good girl" before you're losing yourself again to his tongue and he has to plant your feet down roughly to stop your hips from bucking too much.

Before you know it your clit's throbbing again and you're about to fall over the edge but before you can even let Yoongi know he's pulling back with a pant, practically gasping for air but still flashing you a shit eating grin. "Didn't think I was going to let you, did you sweetheart?"

"Two." You manage to breathe. "Two!"

By now you're sick of the teasing, a hand coming between your own legs to finish yourself off, ready to come undone whether Yoongi likes it or not. Before you can get your way, Yoongi's swatting your hand away. "Desperate slut. Wanna cum that bad huh?"

"Please!" You practically whimper.

That seems to do it for him, his eyes glazing over with what you recognise as lust. As if the last of his self control just snapped. Anticipation makes your blood run hot.

"Then make it to three and we'll see if I'm feeling nice."

"Shit!" Yoongi's tongue plunges into your heat with a new found eagerness, thrusting in and out like a man deprived. You manage to maintain eye contact this time, falling apart at the way he groans in appreciation when he tastes himself, fucking your hole with his tongue mercilessly like he wants to get every last drop of his cum.

His thumb finds your clit and the coil in your lower belly tightens too rapidly for you to comprehend, tugging on his hair as you cry out. "Yoongi!"

"Cum for me."

His permission is all it takes to have you falling over the edge into a shattering orgasm that makes your vision turn black, mind wiped of any hesitation and guilt and replaced with a single word, over and over again: Yoongi.

When you finally take a gasping breath, he's there, rubbing encouraging circles into your hips and leaving kisses across your stomach that makes something in your chest warm, heart beating a little faster and not just from your orgasm.

"So fuckin' pretty when you cum." You're sure that's what he murmurs against your damp skin. "Can't believe I had to wait this long."

You furrow your brow. Yoongi sits back against his heels, wiping your arousal from his mouth with the back of his hand and flashing you a lazy but satisfied smile, looking awfully pleased with himself. Like this was his biggest dream come true.

It dawned on you that it probably was in someways -- what better way to get back at an old friend than by fucking his sister?

You suddenly feel like an idiot for letting him charm you, guilt washing through you, flying forward when your chest aches with regret.

Yoongi notices how you pale. "Are you okay? If that was too much then I'm really sorry--"

"Too much?" You suddenly feel exposed beneath his gaze, shuffling around to pull your skirt around your thighs, eyes roaming the room hurriedly for your panties so you can get out of here and quick. "This is all too much, Yoongi."

"What?" He puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you as you brush past him but the way you jolt at the touch makes him rip it away like he touched a live wire.

"I...shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake."

Namjoon's face was embedded in your mind. The way his eyes would crumple with betrayal if he found out you came here at all -- let alone let Yoongi take you so intimately. And you hadn't even tried to stop yourself from falling into him, gave in to your emotions too easily and allowed Yoongi to use you as a swipe at your own brother.

"Why? Didn't seem so upset when you were coming on my tongue." The scoff in Yoongi's voice makes you freeze.

"I can't stop you from hurting Namjoon," Your lip quivers and you have to press your nails into your palms to stop the tears spilling over. "But do you really have to hurt me, too?"

"Y/N, wait--"

Your hands shake as you grab your bag and head for the door. "Shit happened between you and my brother, I get it. But we were friends once, Yoongi. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We can't see each other again."

Your tears are warm in contrast to the cold evening air as you take off into a run, needing to get as far away from Yoongi and the evidence of your own betrayal as possible.

By the time you stumble back into the Big Hit company building, the studio is empty. To your surprise, words seem to flow out of you easier than they ever had before, a heart shaped stain appearing on the formerly empty page of your notebook.

Sleepless nights were becoming your norm. You had barely slept a wink since that night, not when every thought was plagued with guilt, the same name running circles around your mind, the same dark eyes and swollen lips and messy hair tauntingly appearing in your mind whenever your head hit the pillow.

Yoongi.

That night with Yoongi felt something like a dream, a hazy memory, the only evidence of it being real the fact that every time you closed your eyes you could feel the way Yoongi's hands burned your skin, how his lips moved perfectly in sync with your own.

As much as you knew it was a mistake, something that should have never happened, you couldn't help the way your heart throbbed every time you replayed it over and over in your mind, repeatedly, until you felt like you were going insane with guilt. It was eating you alive. But sometimes you would remember the way you felt when he was pressed up against you and every ounce of regret felt worth it.

You hated yourself for it, and you knew your brother would hate you to, if he ever found out.

He could never find out.

So, you take to avoiding Namjoon altogether. It wasn't that hard really, you knew his schedule well enough to be a step ahead of him at all times, and it wasn't as if he was enthusiastic about your company to begin with.

Of course sometimes your paths have to cross, but you still can't look Namjoon in the eyes when you slip into one of the Big Hit practice rooms where you know you'll inevitably find him.

The music hits before you even open the door. Namjoon is dressed in casual clothes, cap pulled down low over his face as he raps into a mic, the way his voice husks a tell tale sign that this was not the first time he'd gone over the same verse.

He seems stiffer than usual, all elbows and knees as he scrutinises his own form in the wall to floor mirror. You've seen him perform this choreography flawlessly hundreds of times so your brow furrows with confusion each time his feet miss a beat or his knees literally buckle under the pressure.

On the far side of the room sits a row of men and women in formal suits. Investors, brought in to bet on the contestant most likely to win. They watch Namjoon with intent eyes, some shaking their heads in disapproval, others whispering insults below their breaths.

Is that really Runch Randa? Pfft, he'll never win with footwork like that.

Jimin stands close by, hopping from one foot to the other and wincing with every mistake Namjoon makes. He's been making desperate phone calls for the last week, pleading with any investor he could get ahold of to take a chance on Namjoon which was hard to come by after the royal media fuck up the other day at the after party.

This was Namjoon's only chance at a do over — he needed their money if he wanted to win this thing. The judges were expecting a show from him. Smoke machines and good lighting are expensive, after all.

Namjoon, however, only seems interested in the reactions of your parents sat in the back row, expressions grave. He's chastising himself, self loathing evident in his eyes every time he stutters over a lyric. He knows how hard they worked to establish Big Hit and the disappointment in their eyes as it slowly slips through Namjoon's fingers like sand makes even you feel jittery with nerves.

For a brief moment you're grateful that you are practically invisible in this room, no eyes even glancing your way as you join them. You're glad that Namjoon takes the brunt of the pressure. You never were the strong sibling after all.

The music cuts, Namjoon coming to a stand still. He crumples at the knees, forehead pressed against the polished linoleum floor as he tries to catch his breath.

Jimin slumps into a chair, head in hands. That tells you all you need to know.

Investors leave the room, some sending apologetic looks towards Jimin with a shrug. Others deposit their cheque books back into their briefcases, taking pity on the pleading smiles and firm handshakes from your parents when they apologise for Namjoon's lacking performance. One even pats Namjoon on the back, following the small crowd as they leave the room. "Take a break, buddy."

Nearly everyone has filtered out before Namjoon gets to his feet shakily, slumping down into a seat beside you. You don't acknowledge him, afraid of what you might let slip if you do, fiddling with your camera as a distraction.

It's him who breaks the silence.

"How's the song coming along?" He seems disinterested, clicking his knuckles with no real intention of listening to your response.

"Fine." Another lie. It wasn't coming along at all, really, but now is probably not the best time to tell him when his nerves are already heightened by his failure to gain any crucial investments.

His eye is still slightly swollen from the fist fight a few days ago, a permanent line forming at the bridge of his nose that wasn't there before. You almost didn't recognise him. He stares at his own broken reflection in the steamed practice room mirrors vacantly, like he doesn't even recognise himself.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass. Namjoon's heavy breathing slows to a regular pace.

"I know you went to see him."

It echos menacingly through the room and you stiffen, clutching the floor beneath you for support. Namjoon's hard eyes still don't look your way but you see him analysing your reaction in the mirror. The way your mouth gapes speechlessly tells him everything he needs to know.

"Not even gonna try and deny it?" His head shakes in disbelief.

You throb with guilt. "H-how did you find out?"

"I have people everywhere keeping an eye on him, Y/N. You're lucky the paparazzi didn't catch you, because it sure as shit looked shady. My own sister," He scoffs around the word, as if it tastes bad in his mouth. "Siding with him?"

You place a hand on his forearm, surprised to find him shaking beneath your touch. "I'm not siding with him, Namjoon."

"Then what are you doing?" He roars, ripping his arm away.

What was I doing? You don't even know yourself.

It takes everything inside you to keep the expression on your face neutral, to wipe away the regret and the sadness and the fear that makes your voice wobble.

"We just talked." You had to avert your gaze, scared that somehow your disingenuous eyes would give away what really happened with Yoongi — a little more than talking to say the least.

"About what?"

"The secret, okay? I wanted to protect you—"

"Protect me?" Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. "How is meddling in business that doesn't even concern you protecting me, Y/N?"

"Have you forgotten that what you're — we're — doing is against Mic Drop rules? That you could be disqualified or...worse! Get your trophy revoked?"

"Pfft. Yoongi won't say anything.."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's me he wants to hurt. I know him, Y/N. He'd never forgive himself if you—" He eyes you carefully. "If anyone else got dragged into this. It's between me and him, that's it."

Your head is spinning. You remember a time when things weren't this way, back when Yoongi and Namjoon were friends. Partners. What happened between them that made them so hell bent on destroying one another?

"There are things about Yoongi that you will never understand, Y/N. Things he did that can never be forgiven."

It briefly crosses your mind that if Namjoon could cut Yoongi, his best friend, out of his life, just how easy it would be for him to do the same to you if he found out just how unforgivable your betrayal was. A funny feeling pools in your stomach, a distance settling between you and Namjoon as, to your dismay, you realise just how much you have in common with your brother's enemy.

"But what about you, huh? Why should he forgive you? You took everything from him! I'm not surprised he's back to kick your ass. If you ask me it's him who should be holding a grudge—"

Namjoon's hands clamp onto your shoulders and you recoil from the contact. You're breathing hard, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over any second.

"Listen to me. He's trying to get in your head. You need to stay away from him Y/N. He's bad news."

"Tell me why! Help me understand!"

Namjoon's face is grave. "Some secrets are best kept that way. It'll only make it worse if I tell you."

Before you can protest he's striding across the room and hitting the play button on the boom box in the corner, music blasting from the speakers again.

"Joon—"

"Just stick to taking pictures and stop getting involved in business that doesn't concern you."

Then his body is twisting across the room in time to the music with an intensity he didn't possess before. Like a machine on autopilot.

You shove your camera into your bag and let the door slam shut behind you.

"We were a mistake."

The cursor flashing on the empty document on your computer screen feels like it's taunting you.

"Please don't tell my brother what we did."

You've been like this for the last week. Holed up in one of the tiny studios at the Big Hit company building, head swimming with beats and melodies and lyrics that just won't seem to fit together. Not when your mind is preoccupied with a more pressing issue.

"Are you thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about you?"

Yoongi.

God, how are you supposed to write this song for Namjoon when all you can think about is his enemy?

You don't know why you're still so hung up on Yoongi. It's not as if what happened between you meant anything. It was just a spur of the moment mistake. You were both tense and needed someone to help blow off some steam. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Right?

You'll never admit that deep down, a part of you wants to see him again. To check that he's real and that you didn't imagine the whole thing. To see if he is going as crazy as you feel.

That's when the answer hits you. The only way to make this right is to end things once and for all. Tie up all your loose ends and tell Yoongi that you and him were a one time thing. Make sure you were on the same page.

Then maybe you'll be able to concentrate on helping Namjoon beat his ass.

A sudden confidence grips you, standing up abruptly from your desk, alerting the attention of Hoseok who up until now has been quietly engrossed in the track he's producing.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

There's an address burning at the forefront of your mind. You have the route committed to memory. How long it'll take to get there. How long it'll take to get back before anyone else at Big Hit notices your absence.

The only place you knew where you might find Yoongi.

"I won't be gone long. Cover for me if anyone sees I'm gone, 'kay?"

Hoseok eyes you curiously and pulls his headphones to sit around his neck. "O-okay but don't you think you should take an umbrella? It's raining and you might catch a cold — oh."

You don't hear him, the door already slamming behind you.

In hindsight, Hoseok was probably right. You're soaked before you even get half way to Yoongi's studio.

Not that you care. Not when there are so many things you want to say to Yoongi. So many questions only he knows the answer to.

Not when you're about to see him again and you're giddy and nervous and scared of the way your heart feels like it's about to bust out of your chest.

You don't really know why you're doing this. For Namjoon's sake? To ease your own guilty conscience? Both?

You shake your head before your confidence can deflate and focus on putting two feet in front of the other instead, trying to take your mind of your destination by focusing on your surroundings. You always liked this part of town, with it's bustling roads and street vendors and buskers. Here it's easy to forget, to just close your eyes and let the buzz of cars and the melody from a nearby street guitarist and the torrent of ice cold rain whisk you away, like life is operating at double the speed but you're too caught up in your own thoughts to care.

So caught up in your own thoughts that you don't spot the guy handing out flyers on the side of the street until your face is colliding with his shoulder.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

The guy lets out a groan as you helplessly watch his flyers flutter to the ground like autumn leaves, disintegrating on the rain dampened street.

"Does nobody look where they're going any more? My boss is going to kill me..."

The guy gets to his knees and starts grabbing as many flyers as he can by the handful.

"I'm so sorry, at least let me help?"

You hear him sigh deeply but he doesn't stop you when you drop down beside him.

You stamp on a flyer before it can be whisked away by the breeze. It's ruined. The rain makes the ink bleed into a black blotch in the center of the sodden paper, but if you squint you can just make out the barely legible print.

Live Classical Piano - 7:30 - 9:30 Every Wednesday At The Coffee House!

A throat clears, shaking you back to reality, and a nimble hand thrusts towards you, palm up, waiting for you to deposit the pile of flyers you collected.

"Just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart? Some of us have a job to do."

Shame heats your cheeks. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'll pay for these —"

Its then, as you let your hood fall down, that the boy stiffens. You look up slowly, meeting a widened pair of piercing grey eyes for the first time. The very same eyes you haven't been able to get out of your head all week.

"Wait...Yoongi?"

It's him. He's here? A coincidence surely but it sure as shit doesn't feel like one.

Just seeing him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Yoongi blinks a few times, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he's ripping the flyers from your slackened grip and grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you behind him to the side of the street where you're just out of view from passerby's.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He deadpans.

You take in the way his mint hair clings damply to his forehead, shirt darker in places where droplets of rain soak into the fabric. He's wearing one of those traditional pianist outfits with the funny tuxedo jacket and a little black bow tie strung around his neck that looks like it came from a bad Beethoven Halloween costume. It catches you off guard. No wonder you didn't recognise him before. Not exactly hip hop.

"What are you doing here?"

Yoongi glances over his shoulder warily. "Look, you can't tell anyone you saw me here okay? Did Namjoon send you?"

"What? No--?"

"Just leave, Y/N. Before someone sees you here and tells your precious brother that you've been hanging around with scum like me." He spits, drops your arm and starts in the direction he came from.

"Yoongi, wait!" You blurt, throwing your hands up in frustration. He freezes."Can we...can we just talk?"

Yoongi nearly does a double take. He's usually full of jibes but this catches him off guard. "Talk?"

He backtracks, though you notice the way he keeps a safe distance between you. It feels silly considering how much...closer you were just a few days ago. You wonder, as his eyes look you up and down, if he's thinking about it too. If you crossed his mind as much as he crossed yours.

"Listen, I don't have time for this, I need to go get some more of these flyers..."

Your heart drops, embarrassed for even entertaining the idea that he would want to see you again.

"Please?"

He hesitates. You're sure he's going to blow you off again but then his eyes fill with something scarily close to concern. "Shit, you're shivering."

Your hair hangs in heavy tendrils around your face, droplets of cold rain caressing your cheeks. Your knees knock, arms wrapped around the damp hoodie clinging to your torso to retain some warmth.

Yoongi shrugs off his jacket, despite the way his own teeth chatter. "You're going to catch your death dressed like that."

You stand there dumbly as he holds it out to you. He kicks a stone with the toe of his sneaker awkwardly when you finally wrap it around your shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want to see me again." It's almost accusing but you're sure you hear a trace of a pout in his voice.

"I...I didn't want to." Yoongi looks up. "But I think we should talk about you know...us."

Yoongi bites his lip, like he's having an inner debate. Like he's about to do something he knows he shouldn't.

"Fine. Let's talk. I, uh, guess I have some things I need to say to you too." He scratches the back of his neck. "But not here. Could I—would it be weird if we got coffee or something?"

Definitely weird. That's what you should say. But you don't.

"Okay."

You don't miss the way Yoongi's cheeks turn a little red.

The coffee shop Yoongi takes you to is a quaint little place, definitely not the sort of establishment you expected rough-around-the-edges Min Yoongi to frequent with its exposed brick walls and mint green espresso mugs with smiley faces on the side that give it a somewhat cosy appeal.

"I work here," He explains when he sees your eyes roaming. "Needed some extra cash."

You nod. Makes sense. The smell of pumpkin bread and coffee beans is still a welcome relief from the bitter chill outside.

The guy at the counter nods in greeting when Yoongi approaches, already grinding up coffee like he knows his regular order. Yoongi flashes him a tight smile. You figure they know each other, not that Yoongi seems the type to mingle within barista social circles but then again he is full of surprises today.

They share a few hushed whispers, staring not so subtly in the direction of where you sit hunched in one of the corner booths, but you just ignore it by watching a rain drop crawl down the window with rapt attention.

Words barely pass between you and Yoongi until you're both seated, him with a coffee you learn he takes black and you with a much too sugary frappe which you take to stirring with your straw nervously, chin in palm.

It's Yoongi who finally breaks the silence.

"What are you thinking?" He looks at you expectantly over the rim of his mug. For some reason it makes you nervous.

Guilt niggles at your repose. The cafe is alive with indistinguishable chatter, a coffee machine whirring loudly nearby. In reality, you merely blend in to the hubbub. But as you watch Yoongi fiddle with the rings on his fingers in anticipation of your response it's like a hush has fallen and all eyes are on you. Judging, like they know how wrong it is for you to be here.

He's been the only thing on your mind all week but now you're here in front of him it's like your mind is blank.

"Did you tell anyone?"

Yoongi blinks. "Namjoon's secret? I said I wasn't going to say anything—"

"No. Our secret. Us..." It feels foreign, referring to Yoongi and yourself as a unit. You hate to admit it makes your heart beat a little faster. "Namjoon knows."

Yoongi's coffee cup clatters to the table and words rise like bile in your throat, everything you've been bottling up inside tumbling out before you can stop it.

"Namjoon knows! He found out about us somehow and now everything has gone to shit and...I shouldn't even be telling you this! God I'm an idiot! I just don't know what to do—"

Your wailing is interrupted suddenly by a warm hand covering your own. Yoongi's hand. The touch is gentle, comforting, something about the squeeze of reassurance it provides calming your hyperventilating. It feels right.

Why does it feel right?

Yoongi must misinterpret the puzzled look you flash him as a warning he's crossing a boundary because he retracts his arm jerkily, a flush creeping up his neck.

He glosses over the weird moment hastily.

"Slow down, go back. He knows?" There's a lilt of surprise to his voice. Either he's a really good actor or he is just as panicked as you by this news. "And you think I told him?"

"Well, not exactly. He knows some of it — not everything! — he thinks that I just spoke to you after the show...I assumed you would have filled in the blanks by now."

Yoongi laughs breathily. Relieved. It flummoxes you. Shouldn't he be satisfied that his plan to get under Namjoon's skin was a success?

"Y/N, there were hundreds of people at the gig, anyone could have seen us. Jimin and Hoseok probably told him. You act like I tried to seduce you just to get revenge, or something." He gulps back the last of his coffee and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before his expression suddenly turns serious. "You don't think that right?"

"Isn't that exactly what you did?"

Say no.

Yoongi opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He doesn't deny it.

Something in your chest twists with disappointment. It scares you shitless and you know you have to end this — whatever this is — before there's no turning back.

"Look, it — we — were a stupid mistake okay? I need to know that you're not going to use this against him. It would kill him."

"Mistake?" Yoongi's face drops. "Didn't I say you could trust me?"

It sounds somewhat pained, like he wasn't expecting you to think so lowly of him. His eyes soften with a certain gentleness now and you almost feel bad for thinking they could ever look at you with sinister intentions.

"Do you regret it? What we did?"

You hesitate. You want to say no so badly. But that's not why you came here.

Pull yourself together!

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No." His eyes glint. You can't breathe. "Which is exactly why I'll never say a word. I don't play that way. Fair and square remember?"

You're speechless. All you can get out is a measly oh as you stare at the coffee in your cup and process.

"What did Namjoon say anyway?"

Your fingers find the patterns carved into the surface of the wooden table top, feeling the grooves as a distraction from the embarrassment flushing your cheeks. "He told me not to come back and find you."

A wry smile creeps across his face. "But you did?"

Even Yoongi is accusing you now? God, you played right into his hands. He's probably enjoying this. That you broke Namjoon's trust again, all for him.

The worst part is that you can hardly bring yourself to care. Sitting with Yoongi still feels deliciously indulgent — seeing his face again, feeling the heat of his body where your knees brush under the table finally satisfying a craving that had been growing inside you since that night in his studio.

"He doesn't control me."

He just nods. "I get that." His fingers tap in time with the sickeningly happy radio tune that plays overhead, eager to change the subject, like he's aware that he already said too much. "How is Namjoon anyway? You written him a song yet?"

Not allowed. If any information gets leaked about Namjoon's Mic Drop stage the first person he'd blame was you. You had to keep your lips tightly sealed.

You shrink back into your seat. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Okay, then." Yoongi throws his arms over the back of his chair, a cheekiness in his voice, like he's testing the waters to see how you'll react. "Ask me something instead. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Shoot."

That's allowed, right? Where's the harm. If it doesn't involve Namjoon then it can't hurt him...

"Okay..." You purse your lips, eyes travelling around the dimly lit coffee shop. "Why do you work...here?"

Yoongi nods to the stack of damp flyers beside him. Live classical piano. "I play piano here sometimes." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. It's kinda cute. "Needed some spare cash and this was the only place that could take me at such short notice."

"You play piano?"

He nods and you follow his gaze to the grand piano stood unoccupied in the corner. You imagine how Yoongi would look bent over the keys. How his fingers would move across the instrument with concentrated precision. How the tune would mingle with the warmth of the coffee shop on a cold evening.

"I didn't know you like classical music?"

"I don't. Not really." He cocks his head, finding the right words. "Namjoon has investors right? People who just throw money at him?" You nod, somehow ashamed. "Teaching me to play piano was my mom's investment in me. She always said it might come in handy some day."

You nod. "And do you have to wear that stupid costume every time?"

"This?" A snort leaves you when he shoots you a look, a shy smile finding the curve of his lips. "Don't mean to brag but it's a huge hit with the older ladies."

You can't help but laugh when he smugly tugs at the bow tie around his neck, unable to miss how his eyes light up. You share a smile that makes you feel light headed.

"I'd have to see it to believe it."

"Well, you know where to find me if you're ever bored and need a good laugh on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday evening." He shifts in his seat. "Or you could just come back to my place, y'know if you wanted to —" You frown, the easiness that had settled between you dissipating as you both sense the inappropriateness of his suggestion. "I know I shouldn't ask, it's just I have a piano and—"

For some reason the rational part of your brain taps out and your heart says fuck it.

"I'd love to."

"So, where do you live?" You ask when you finish your drink and nervously copy Yoongi who is already getting to his feet.

"Oh about that...I live in the apartment upstairs actually." He chuckles sheepishly."Cheap rent, you know?"

It takes you by surprise but you don't press.

"Oh. Right."

Yoongi extends a hand towards you. The thud in your chest gets faster when you slide your palm into his and he pulls you behind him to the foot the stairway you had disregarded upon entry, the distressed baby blue door at the top labelled RESIDENTS ONLY seeming strangely inviting.

Yoongi gestures for you to go first and you've barely ascended three steps before a voice rings out behind you, making you freeze like a child caught in a mischievous act.

"Use protection you two! And close the door so that Odengie's innocence isn't compromised this time!"

The barista from before rounds the corner, a tray of empty mugs in his left hand and a cloth for wiping down tables in the other.

You suppress a laugh. "Odengie?"

"His goddamn sugar glider—" He says it more to himself rather than in response to your query, flashing the tousled haired boy an exasperated look. "Really, bro?"

The other man either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "What? He's too young to learn how baby sugar gliders are made." His eyes suddenly flit to you and, as if remembering his manners, he deposits the cloth onto a nearby table and reaches a damp hand through the staircase to shake yours with a friendly smile. "I'm Jin, by the way."

You take it cautiously, wiping your now wet hand on the back of your jeans. "Nice to meet you?"

"Come on," Yoongi is flushed red as he pushes you up the rest of the stairs with a pressure at the small of your back. "We'll be back down in a minute, chill okay?"

Yoongi shoulders his way into the apartment, pulling you across the threshold alongside him, but not before you catch a glimpse of Jin's teasing grin poking around the staircase, words reaching your ears before Yoongi could slam the door shut in time.

"Oh, so it's a quickie? Have fun!"

A laugh escapes your lips, Yoongi pressing his back to the door with a sigh of relief. "Sorry about him. He's my roommate. Kind of came with the apartment, you know?"

You glance around at the small maisonette that unfolds before you curiously. It feels more like a dorm room, a mismatch pile of shoes piled at the entry way, a pair of beanbags substituting a couch surrounding a small gaming set up littered with empty pizza boxes you presume belong to Seokjin.

"Ah. He's part of the furniture then."

The other corner of the room is littered with an assortment of vinyls strewn out beside a pair of speakers and a record player, the needle still hovering over the grooves of an album by an artist you don't recognise. Yoongi's touch to the decor, you suppose.

"Guess you could say that. He's not so bad once you get over the uh...small rodents."

You trail behind Yoongi into what you assume is his bedroom, if the frameless mattress which lay on the floor in the corner beneath the window with sheets unmade and strewn across the floor messily was anything to go by.

He flicks on the set of fairy lights tacked to the wall, a surprisingly homely touch that makes you think Yoongi isn't as cold as you believe him to be.

Yoongi approaches a clothes rack stuffed with a variety of stage outfits. "Here." He pulls an oversized hoodie from one of the hangers, throwing it at you from across the room. "You're clothes are still wet. Wouldn't want to catch a cold. You can wear this until they dry."

"O-Okay." You stand there dumbly. He isn't expecting you to strip right in front of him, is he?

He seems to sense your hesitance, turning around so his back is to you with wide eyes. He plays it off by grabbing a selection of clothing for himself, shuffling past you with eyes trained to the ground. "I'll use the bathroom. Tell me when you're done."

You are soaked through to your underwear but you leave them on since Yoongi probably didn't have a spare pair of panties laying around you could borrow. The fabric of his hoodie is soft and warm when it slips over your otherwise bare skin and you breath in the woody scent that seems to embrace your entire body, ignoring the way it makes your head dizzy, and roll up the large sleeves to free your hands before calling to him that you are done.

When he re-enters the room, pulling a grey beanie over his head haphazardly to match the much more Yoongi appropriate outfit of a simple white tee and sweats, his breath hitches at your bare legs peeking out from the bottom of the garment. His lingering stare makes you hug your torso self consciously, eyes never leaving you even as he grabs the pile of sodden clothing you discarded earlier and lays them neatly over the radiator to dry.

You practically hear the way he swallows awkwardly when his eyes lock with yours, caught in the act. He's quick to lighten the mood.

"Well...here she is."

You turn as he moves across the room to the piano occupying the opposite wall, wood stained dark but bleached slightly in places by the stream of sunlight which washes its surface from the opposite window. The stool beneath it scrapes against the scuffed floor boards when Yoongi makes enough space to seat himself on top of the blue velour cushion.

"I know it's not much — nothing like you're used to I mean, but it makes music just the same."

He must take the way you hang back near the door frame as a sign of your distaste which couldn't have been further from reality; it's simply to allow you to study the way Yoongi sits with his back perfectly straight, fingers lingering over the keys like he knows the piano as well as an old friend. And, though you'll never admit it, the way your heart thumps at the thought of being in Yoongi's most private space.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's." The breath you suck in is slightly too harsh. "Like I said earlier, she liked to play, before she..."

Died. The word never passes between his lips but it sits heavy in the air like a weight.

Yoongi's eyes avert yours so you don't press any further, instead focusing your attention to the pattern of scratches embedded into the piano's lid, unable to help the way your fingers trace the coffee cup rings littering the surface like rugged halos. "It's beautiful."

The side panel is littered with lines, carved deeply into the wood with a penknife; a makeshift height chart like the one you had on the back of your bedroom door as a kid. Your drop to your knees to squint at the nearly illegible words scrawled next to the markings that ascend almsot to the top of the instrument.

Yoongi aged 3...Yoongi aged 4...Yoongi aged 5...

All the way until Yoongi aged 7 where they stop completely.

You frown but he lets out a soft laugh, somewhat pained. "That's when she got sick. I grew up quickly after that."

Straightening up, you swallow thickly, unsure what to say, so you just settle for changing the subject instead.

"So, what can you play?"

Yoongi fiddles with the open sheet music book on the piano stand. His fingers tremble slightly as he turns the worn pages before finally settling on a sheet that is lightly crumpled and ripped around the edges and coffee stained and ferociously dog eared at the corners. Tell tale signs that he had played this piece before, over and over again.

His favourite, you perceive.

Sure, he had literally fucked you into next week already but your hands get clammy at the knowledge that Yoongi feels comfortable enough to share such an intimate tidbit about himself with you. Music means a lot to him after all. Anyone can see that.

You catch a glimpse of the piece over his shoulder.

Romeo and Juliet - Love Theme.

Yoongi notices how you raise a brow at his choice.

"I know I said I don't like classical music but this arrangement is different. You know the story right?"

High school had given you enough general knowledge about Romeo and Juliet for you to nod in confirmation.

"It's like you can feel the passion they have for each other in every note, you know? Like nothing could ever come between them."

His words are so earnest they make your heart ache. You hadn't put him down as the hopeless romantic type.

"I mean not really. They still die in the end." You counter. He frowns.

"But only because of their fucked up families. It's their feud that comes between them in the end. This piece comes before all the shitty parts. If you play it over and over again it's like they never stop loving one another."

His hands fold in his lap and he sucks in a bashful breath, nose scrunching with embarrassment at his dramatic outburst. "It's stupid. I know. Forget I said it."

"No, no I understand completely. Maybe if they weren't so busy fighting they could have listened to their hearts. Right?"

"Right." He scoots across the piano stool, patting the empty space beside him with an encouraging look. "Sit."

Like a magnet you find yourself drawn to his side, shivering when his shoulder brushes yours. His arms hover over the piano, poised and relaxed, concentration etched into the hard lines of his face.

"Ready?"

You can only nod. And then he starts to play.

Yoongi's fingertips eagerly caress the keys of his piano, eyes lifting from the sheet music to gauge your reaction while his hands carry the melody on autopilot, the pretty silver rings he dons glinting with every movement. His neck is bent slightly, allowing his head to bob and sway along with the rise and fall of the rhythm, eyes screwing shut as the composition reaches its most pivotal sequence.

He's practically raking the keys now, pure passion and violent emotion splashing every inch of the room. You shut your own eyes, hands clutching the bottom of the stool until your knuckles whiten, like you might float away with the beautiful tune if you don't ground yourself.

When he said you could feel passion with every note he wasn't wrong. You could feel his passion clear as day.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, wrists coming to a standstill. All he can do is take in heaving, ragged breaths, body slumped down, spent with the sheer effort expelled in his performance. Oxygen is lodged in your own lungs as you take in how how his bangs stick to the beads of sweat prevalent on his forehead

You recover before he does, unconsciously fumbling around in your tote bag, hands curling around the Polaroid camera you bring everywhere just in case a photo opportunity arises.

They never usually do. Until now.

"Stay like that." The viewfinder raises to your eye and you snap a shot of him with precision, the soft click that emanates through the room making Yoongi's eyes snap open.

The picture dispenses from the camera, black square fading out to reveal a hazy image as you shake it back and forth. Yoongi, face relaxed, lashes pressed softly to the tops of his cheeks with a lazy smile.

It's the Yoongi you remember. Your Yoongi.

He smirks when you slide it into the back pocket of your jeans, cheeks glowing with a contentedness you hadn't seen for a long time. "You always did like taking pictures of me."

"Shut up."

When your hand tentatively closes over his where it still rests on the piano, it's his turn to shoot you a curious look. With a shaky breath you flip his palm, slotting your fingers together perfectly, and lean across the piano to press your lips against his.

His mouth is softer than you remember, not attacking with the rich taste of lust but rather caressing your lips gently, sweetly. Taking your time to commit each tickle of breath against your nose, each slide of his bottom lip between yours, to memory. Everything other than the dizzying sensation of his tongue tracing your bottom lip disappears. All your worries, reluctances, regrets, just dissolving like the setting sun.

Everything feels safe here with him. Everything feels right.

It barely lasts a minute, not much more than a delicate brush really, but when he pulls back you are already breathless, immediately starved of the satisfaction that came from finally feeling him against you again, tasting the spearmint mixed with something so inherently Yoongi you didn't quite realise how much you were craving.

Yoongi sighs blissfully. You need more.

Your hands tangle in the front of his T-shirt but before you can pepper his mouth with a series of further eager kisses, his free hand plants on your shoulder and pushes you back carefully.

"About what you said the other night." His eyes are wide with concern, trained to your lips, resisting the urge to capture them again with all his self control. It made your heart flip. "I don't want to hurt you Y/N. We don't have to do this—"

"I want to. So bad." His thumb caresses your knuckles. "I trust you."

In that moment, it's true. You trust him more than you've ever trusted anything in the world.

"But Namjoon..."

His words fade out when you lean in for another reassuring peck. Namjoon's name falling from Yoongi's lips doesn't make your skin crawl like it usually did. In fact you feel nothing at the mention of your brother.

"To hell with Namjoon. I'm a big girl. I know what I want."

Yoongi grins, hand coming to cup your cheek tentatively, eyes crinkling with what you could only describe as liberation. "And what's that?"

Your eyes narrow in on his parted mouth again.

"You."

His eyes darken and then his hands are tangling in your hair and pulling your chest flush to his in a kiss that is far rougher than before. No more beating around the bush. Just passion as you crawl into his lap and kiss him like it's the first time — or perhaps, more accurately, the last time. Like the world will end if you part for a single breath.

Fingers find the hem of his shirt and you're pulling it up his torso greedily, heart beating a little faster when you feel his warm skin beneath your fingertips. His chest is softer than you expect, a perfect contrast to the strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back to his lips.

It's not long before you feel his pants fill out underneath you. The feeling is all too familiar, reminding you of how it felt to be above him like this in his studio. That night feels like a life time away as his hands grab your hips and press you roughly down onto his crotch.

You both groan out at the feeling, something intense, something primal, heating up between your legs as you circle his clothed length, want and need blending into one as your core dampens with every twist of your hips.

Yoongi breaks away from your lips with a gasp when your fingers reach between your body and find the sensitive head of his cock, a wet patch forming on his sweats. His eyes are shut, head thrown back against the piano top as he bites into his thumb to stop little moans tumbling from his swollen lips.

He shoots upright when you slide down his torso, hardwood cold against your bare knees, fingers fumbling with the strings of his pants. When you finally get them open and slip your hand beneath the waistband, Yoongi all but groans at the feel of your cool palm grabbing his hot cock skin on skin.

You shimmy his sweats around his thighs, mouth practically watering as you eye up his pulsing length, unable to resist stroking it firmly with your fist. A hand covers yours.

"Wait!" A strangled noise of agony rips from his chest when your grip loosens, desperate to buck up into your touch but managing to stay firmly planted to the stool in favour of gaining your consent. "Are you sure?"

You scoff teasingly. "Would I be on my knees if I wasn't?"

His laugh is breathy, half a moan as you pick up your pace again. "Just nervous — ah!" A soft kitten lick to the reddened tip of his cock has him flying forward, knuckles white as they grip your shoulder.

"Min Yoongi gets nervous?" The precum that coats your tongue is salty, makes you itch to take him into your mouth fully.

"Shut up." His breathing is ragged, hands hovering over your hair. "Didn't think this would happen again. Needs to be perfect — holy fuck Y/N."

You give no warning before you sink down on his length, his hands finally tangling in your hair and tugging lightly when your nose presses to his pubic bone, groaning around him when you feel the head of his cock pulsing in the back of your throat.

"So warm, shit."

You come up for air, lips wrapping around his head and enjoying the way his thighs trembled when your tongue runs teasingly along the underside of his cock. His hand pushes at the back of your head, forcing his length further down your throat than you're expecting until you gag around his girth.

"Shit, sorry."

The groan that follows doesn't sound very apologetic though. The visual of your drool coating his painfully hard length mixed with the sensation of your warm mouth engulfing him whole nearly has him blowing his load then and there, utterly fucked out and oblivious to the string of groans leaving his lips when you finally come up for air. Tears streak your cheeks and Yoongi wipes them away with his knuckle tenderly.

"God, look at you." He's breathless, amazed. "C'mere."

A hand cups your elbow, pulling you to your feet so he can connect your lips again, humming when he tastes himself on your tongue. His hands are all over you now as he wraps you in his arms and stumbles backwards your back is pressed to the mattress in the corner. It dips in the middle when he crawls over you, tucking away strands of hair that fan around your face like a halo before his mouth is on you again like he can't quite help himself.

A series of open mouthed kisses caress your jaw, then your neck, all the way down your chest. Yoongi's eyes flick up to watch your face, lips parted with want as his hands fiddled with the hem of his own much too big hoodie swaddling your body.

"Can I?"

Your hand threads into his hair encouragingly. "Please."

A gasp passes his lips when he finally pulls the fabric over your head, eyes following his curious calloused hands as they explore the expanse of skin exposed to him now you're left in just your bra and panties.

"So beautiful." He traces his fingers down your shoulders, down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach. The light and delicate touches have you shivering, writhing for more. Almost as desperate to feel him everywhere as he is to worship every inch of you.

His touch stops at the hem of your panties. You're already working on the clasp of your bra, a violent nod the only permission he needs to drag the fabric agonisingly slow down your legs, unhooking them from your ankles carefully.

When he looks back up you are completely bare, laid out beneath the stream of half-sun-half-moon bathing the room.

Yoongi pounces, lips wrapping around one of your nipples greedily, tongue swirling around the hardened bud until you're gasping his name over and over.

"Can't believe you're letting me see you like this."

Hands wrap around your thighs, legs falling open, the way he licks his lips as he takes in your glistening heat not going unnoticed.

Yoongi's head shakes in disbelief, mumbling words which sound an awful lot like so pretty and fucking gorgeous as his head dips and he continues his trail of earlier kisses, tongue laving over your inner thighs and edging ever closer to your aching core.

"W-wait." Yoongi freezes and comes up to meet your face. His breath is hot against your cheek, eyes scanning your face for hesitation.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He's frantic, swallowing nervously as his palms cup your face. "Want to take care of you this time. What is it? Tell me."

"I'm fine. More than fine." You brush your noses together. It makes him smile. "Just want to feel you, that's all. Now."

Yoongi lets out a dramatic sigh, voice high and whiny. "But I've been dreaming about how you taste for days, Y/N. Literally. Dreaming about it."

You don't mention how you've been replaying the visual of his lips wrapped around your clit and edging you over and over again since it happened, just stroke his cheek in mutual understanding.

"Too bad. You'll just have to wait until next time." His features light up at the promise of a next time. Another moment like this, just you and him.

His face falls into the crook of your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin teasingly as a hand trails between your legs. When the pads of his fingers circle your entrance you whimper, clit throbbing with want when his hand pulls away nearly as quick as it came.

The want only intensifies when he brings two of his arousal coated digits to his mouth with closed eyes, guttural moan vibrating your flush chests when he savours the taste of your arousal coating his fingers.

"Next time." He hums and you are sure you nearly came untouched.

"Need you. Now."

He wastes no time taking his achingly hard cock into his fist, placing a supportive hand on your hip as he lines himself up with your entrance. You whine when he drags the tip up and down your slit, giving some brief but much needed stimulation to your clit.

Before he can push inside though you place a hand on his chest to stop him. He doesn't have time to dote on you again though because without further ado you're whipping off the beanie that still sits snugly around his head, throwing it across the room with a smirk.

His eyes glint fondly. "Whoops."

The room has grown darker by now, only lit by the gentle sparkle of the fairy lights and Yoongi has to feel around in the sheets to find your hand. In the same moment he tangles your fingers together beside your face, he pushes inside with a gasp.

Unlike the first time in his studio, Yoongi is in no rush. He wants to savour it. He fills you slowly, so that you can feel every ridge of his length dragging against your velvety walls. When he finally bottoms out and your hips press flush together, you squeeze his hand. Tight. It's this small action that tells him everything he needs to know. Explains the funny feeling in your chest without ever saying the words.

Your legs wrap around his back automatically when his hips begin to rock, angling your body so that he hits so deep with every thrust it steals the breath straight from your lips. Arousal drips from your heat down onto the bed sheets, making each slide deliciously smooth.

"Yoongi I.." It almost slips from your lips. The deepest, darkest secret that you haven't quite admitted to yourself yet.

Yoongi just ups his pace, exchanging words for actions to show you he feels the same. Fucking you a little harder, a little deeper. More sincerely. It compensates for the words neither of you know how to say.

"I know." You feel so full, so warm when he places his forearms at either side of your head to press you into the mattress. "I know."

All the yearning inside you disappears. All that matters is you and Yoongi now, nails scratching up his back, his forehead pressing to yours so that your moans mingle together until you can't tell whose was whose any more.

With a fucked out moan against your lips he's spilling inside you, sending you over the edge with him, hissing as you clench tightly around his cock.

All thoughts are wiped from your mind. Apart from the sensation of his cheek pressed to your chest, hot breath against your collar bone. How you can't believe you lived in a world without Yoongi in it. How you never want to go without him again. How you don't think you can deny how Yoongi makes you feel anymore even if you tried.

The stars behind your eyes fade, and when you come back down, Yoongi is hovering over your body, lips parted and eyes blown out, mesmerised. He's sweaty and smiling and you can feel the way his heart beats in time with yours.

"You okay?"

"Never better." His smile stretches into a grin when your words slur together. "—'m so happy."

A soft, chaste kiss is pressed to your forehead and before you know it Yoongi is tangling your legs together and wrapping the sheets around your bodies, entwined as one.

Me too. You knew that's what he meant. You'd dwell on it another time. For now your eyes are falling shut, satisfied as you inhale Yoongi's scent on the sheets...

Before a blissful slumber could take you away, you're interrupted by a series of knocks against the bedroom door. Both you and Yoongi shoot upright, exchanging a puzzled glance.

"I thought you said it was gonna be a quickie. Come on man, I need to use the bathroom!"

Yoongi groans into the pillow.

"That's it. I'm getting a new roommate."

As the weeks go by you start spending less and less time at the Big Hit office, turning up late to your shifts or clocking out before they were up. The perks of being employed by your parents is that they can't fire you in good conscience, you suppose.

Instead you increasingly find yourself at Yoongi's apartment, writing lyrics at the piano when he was around (sometimes even when he wasn't) or down in the coffee shop, helping yourself to hot chocolate refills on your work breaks. Jin joked that you'd need to start paying rent soon.

Just like how you were able to pick apart each of the boys' influence on the apartment the first time you went there, your own presence was becoming ever apparent.

In the way you spilled sugar on the counter when making tea and always forgot to clean it up, much to Jin's dismay. How some of your own hoodies and pyjama pants had begun to smell like Yoongi's washing powder, ending up folded neatly in his laundry basket and stowed away on his clothing rack like they belonged there. The way his piano top was littered with open notebooks filled with your messy scrawl and pens with the caps lost and half empty mugs stained around the rim with your chapstick.

Yoongi seemed wary at first, cautious to let you get too comfortable around him, dropping you home late at night once the lights in your house switched out and you knew it was safe to go inside.

But eventually he started to crave the little things that reminded him of you, unable to stop the smiles which crept onto his face as he loaded the dishwasher with the mugs and carried you to bed when you fell asleep at the piano stool.

Your bed. That's what you'd taken to calling it now.

Yoongi hated to admit that he was weak. When he got up on stage he was Gloss, hard faced and brazen and ruthless. But here with you, the facade he tried to uphold seemed to crumble into nothing. And the worst part was that he loved it.

Even when he was performing at the club or practicing for the competition, his thoughts always ended up wandering back to you. There were times when your schedules clashed or it was too risky to see each other or times you were simply too exhausted once you got home, falling into bed as soon as you crossed the threshold. But the knowledge that you were always there waiting for each other became the only safe place he knew and that was enough.

Of course you still had to oversee Namjoon's Mic Drop stage, it was your job after all, but that never seemed to come up when you were together. Just watching movies on his laptop or laughing at ungodly hours while you filled each other in on anecdotes that happened in the time you were apart, retreating beneath the sheets when Jin banged on the wall because it was four in the morning so would you please shut the fuck up.

For the first time in a long time you felt happy. Like you belonged somewhere that was all your own. No more answering to Namjoon or your parents. Just your own heart. And it always seemed to lead you back here to Yoongi, straight into his arms.

And as much as you hated yourself for it, you could feel your resentment for Namjoon growing. You'd be damned if you let him take this away from you, like he'd taken everything else.

Eventually, you stopped crawling through your bedroom window like a goddamn teenager and your parents stopped questioning why you never came home anymore. The cracks between you became a chasm. And right now, Yoongi was the band aid holding you together.

When Yoongi returns home later than usual, he's not even surprised when he ascends the stairs and find you and Jin laid out on the bean bags, already tipsy on red wine and giggling at his disgruntled expression.

That is until you take in the weary lines that had etched their way into his forehead, how his eyes look sunken and puffy. How his hands tremble against your waist when you pull him into your arms, body swaying back and forth lightly in your grasp like he could topple over any second.

You know what overworked looks like — after all, you had tended to Namjoon plenty of times when he refused to stop at his limits, barraging through them instead, a habit Yoongi also seemed to possess.

Ordered to stay on bed rest, Yoongi slumps face down into his pillow, letting out a long groan of relief when the mattress cushions his aching limbs.

You're already tucking him in, half way to the door to prepare him a hot cup of honey and lemon to soothe the husk in his throat from rapping too aggressively when his arms loop around your waist and pull you down to snuggle into the crook of your neck contentedly.

"Yoongi, let me go." It's futile, his grip is firm and he is already kicking the sheets over your body and pressing his cheek to the left side of your chest where you're sure he can hear how your heart races, a pout evident in your voice. "I want to take care of you."

"Mmf you are.." Words already slurring with the beginnings of sleep, he smiles groggily when you fall slack in his grasp and press your cheek to the top of his head in defeat. "Stroke my hair please?"

As soon as your fingers tangle in his blue locks he lets out a sigh of relief, like he'd been waiting to feel the touch all day.

Watching his face relax as he drifts off, you bask in the warmth of fulfilment singing your very nerve ending and silently wish that you can stay like this forever.

Just you and Yoongi against the world.

At some point your own eyes fall shut.

You're awoken by the sounds of muffled sobs.

The dark room momentarily disorientates you, heart quickening as you realise you're not in your own bed. Eventually your eyes adjust to the blackness, taking in the piano stood sturdily in the corner, breathing in the scent lingering on the pillow beneath your cheek and you're washed with a wave of comfort.

"Yoongi?" You croak.

The sheets are ripped from your body as Yoongi's form shoots upright. His bare back is damp with sweat, visible in the moonlight creeping through the slanted blinds, mattress rocking slightly with every sob that wracks his frame.

"Go back to sleep." His voice is gruff , but forcibly so and you hear the tremor lurking below the surface.

You sit up beside him. His face is buried in his palms. The sight makes your heart ache.

"Are you okay?" You're still new to this. Sure you're tangled up in his sheets most nights but you're still learning the ropes, unsure how best to comfort him. You settle for gently patting his shoulder, wincing at how cold and distant the action feels.

"I said go back to sleep." When his face emerges from between his hands you see the tell tale tracks of tears streaking his cheeks. Even when he wipes his face with the back of his palm there's a steady stream of them dripping down his chin.

"Is that what you really want?"

Yoongi presses his mouth together in a tight line, eyes black and empty as he tilts his head back and takes a shaky breath. That's when he crumbles. "Please stay."

"Oh, Yoongi." It's barely a whisper, afraid that if you speak too loud he'll shatter into a million pieces. He's like a scared kid, knees hugged to his chest as he wipes the hot tears from his eyes with a hard rub of his knuckles.

Yoongi stiffens when you fumble under the sheets to find his hand. You think he might pull away as you link your fingers with his but to your surprise he pulls your interlocked palms into his lap and squeezes so hard you feel the circulation in your fingers cutting off. The way he chokes back another sob stops you from complaining though, already cupping his cheek and tilting his face towards yours with your free hand.

"Why are you doing this?" His eyes squeeze shut, fresh tears sliding down his face and doing nothing to hide the slight tinge of red beneath them that tell you he's embarrassed to be seen like this. Vulnerable, so unlike the hard faced Yoongi you had come to know.

"Because I want to." You squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back weakly. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Pressing his forehead to yours, Yoongi leans down and captures your lips between his own. I know, it says.

This is different to the way he usually kisses you. There's no hunger, no hands on your neck and your thighs that set you alight with desire. Just a sense of yearning, like he wants to be closer to you, the plump flesh of his lips slotting between yours like a perfect puzzle piece, slightly salty from his tears. It makes you ache all over, like you're somehow connected and sharing his pain.

He pulls away, sharp exhales tickling your face as he scans your eyes for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you're going to leave him here alone. This is side of Yoongi that you have never seen before. He always said he isn't good with words and you know better than anyone that he hated admitting that he needed someone. This was is his way saying he needs you.

And in that moment you feel a piece of your heart flutter into his hands.

"Nightmares." He mumbles, swallowing thickly and tipping his head back against the headboard, expression pained "Just nightmares."

"Want to talk about it?" You sit back next to him, and when he rolls his neck to face you. He looks unreadable again. Eyes void. You half think he's going to push you away, turn over and fall back asleep and leave you to stare at the ceiling alone with the silence.

But he doesn't. Instead he lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head at himself as he pulls you into his arms, stroking your cheek fondly when your head comes to rest on his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

"Why can't I say no to you?"

"Guess I have that affect on people."

He snorts lightly, the first proper reaction he'd given you and you're pleased at his amusement. Pleased you were able to comfort him somewhat.

Unspoken words cloak a heavy silence for what feels like hours, just tracing mindless patterns on his arm and listening to the way his heart slows to a normal pace beneath your cheek, grip around your torso never faltering. When his breaths dwindle to soft puffs against your temple you think he's already drifted off.

Until, "Do you remember when I convinced Namjoon to sign up for Mic Drop the first time. The day after my mom died?" His voice is gravelly, both with sleep and a sign of his withheld tears.

"Of course I do." You swivel in his arms to blink up at him curiously. Sure you remembered. After the funeral, your parents had taken Yoongi in — a repayment they called it. For helping Namjoon achieve his dreams. Of course, that was before you realised just how much Yoongi would help.

Yoongi became a part of the family for a short while. An extra seat at family dinners. Another pair of shoes by the front door. Another bed in Namjoon's room.

"Back then, I was too trusting. I thought that they wanted to help me...I thought that they saw me as their son." He spits the word with the bitterness of a man who was stripped of the title of 'son' before he knew what it really meant.

You think back to how Namjoon and Yoongi used to be. Joined at the hip, everyone used to say. Brothers.

"I think they did—"

"No." He stiffens. You bite your lip. "Namjoon never cared about me. He just saw me as a way to get to the top. And it worked."

You feel a pang in your chest.

"I'm sorry, he's your brother. I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

Yoongi almost turns away but you stop him by pressing your lips to his briefly. Telling him its okay. You understand.

"The nightmares." You say with an eagerness to change to subject before you could dwell on it too hard. Before you could admit to yourself that Yoongi was right. "You didn't say what they were about?"

"I'm getting there." He lets out a strained chuckle and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you shiver.

"The last time I saw my mother she said that she wasn't scared to die. She was just scared that she'd miss seeing me on the stage. She was the only one who believed in me." The next words come out choked. "She said that if she couldn't be there to see it then I needed to make as many goddamn people watch me lift that trophy as I could."

Mic Drop was never about the fame for Yoongi after all. It always ran deeper than that; a need not a want. A vulnerable promise left unfulfilled.

The realisation makes you blanch. All this time, all these years, you hadn't been able to see the real greed right in front of your eyes; your own brother.

The image of Yoongi, crumpled and broken on that fateful day all those years ago makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

The same anger flashes across his face now. "Namjoon took that from me. I don't care about the fans or the money or the trophy — none of that shit! He took my dream Y/N. Do you understand how that feels?"

You find yourself nodding, slowly at first and then with vigour as the dam inside you breaks and your own tears flood. "I do. I understand."

And you do. You understand why Yoongi is so determined to win Mic Drop. You understand why he hates Namjoon as much as he does. You understand how it feels to always fall second best to Namjoon, to be outcasted.

"I keep forgetting her face. I can't hear her voice in my head anymore." Yoongi's crying again now, heavy sobs no longer able to be contained. "But in the dreams she's so clear. The disappointment in her eyes, its so clear, Y/N." His words are interrupted by hiccups that leave him gasping.

"I'm sorry." You whisper once he calms. It's all you know how to say.

"Not your fault." He flashes you a watery smile, wiping away the tear on your cheek with his knuckle. It makes your heart flutter, even despite the guilt weighing on your shoulders.

You feel useless. It wasn't your fault directly but you couldn't help but feel like you wronged Yoongi. All of this happened right in front of your eyes but you were too blinded by Namjoon's broken promises to see it. All this time you had let Namjoon make you think Yoongi was the enemy.

"I'm here now." Hands plant on either side of his face, eyes meeting his. "I believe in you."

He doesn't need to say anything. The way he kisses you speaks louder than words.

All you can do now is hold him, tangling your legs with his and pulling the covers over your intertwined bodies, stroke his cheek with your thumb and pepper kisses to his strained forehead which relaxes beneath your affections.

"I'll make this right." You whisper into his hair after his eyes flutter closed and the sun starts peeking through the window, watching dust particles floating in a stream of light in the room's golden glow through lidded eyes. "I promise."

"I like this." Jimin nods enthusiastically along to the track playing through the headphones Namjoon placed over his ears. "Sounds like a hit to me."

Namjoon's face contorts into a scowl. He disagrees, obviously, if the disgusted shake of his head is any indication.

Mic Drop is just a few days away and Namjoon had decided to scrap his entire stage after Jimin scored a couple big last minute investors who suggested he do something new, something exciting. Something that pushed Runch Randa's limits.

It was a bold move, this close to the big day. But Namjoon was cocky, said that he had enough experience in the industry to win in his sleep. Practice was a waste of time anyway.

"Next one." He waves his hand, barely even glancing in your direction as you press a button that cuts off the track and makes another one start playing.

The bass is louder in this one and it makes Jimin startle backwards, the headphone jack slipping loose so the music plays through the speakers instead.

"Hoseok and I still need to put the finishing touches on this one but it's pretty catchy—"

Namjoon cuts you off with a sharp no, it was too upbeat for his Mic Drop performance. Said he needed something with grit, something that would make the judges feel something.

"Let me see that." He gestures for you to get up, slumping down into the chair you occupied and slotting himself beneath the studio desk to scroll through the open folder on the computer screen.

He skims through countless tracks, demoed and ready to be recorded at Namjoon's disposal — you were something of a writing machine, always scribbling down lyrics on receipts from the store or on the back of your hand and paired with Hoseok you were a dream team; he always seemed to find a beat that fit perfectly. Unfortunately Namjoon's straight face gives away his disinterest in any of them.

"None of these will work." Namjoon throws the keyboard down with a force that makes you wince, jaw tightening as he presses his knuckles to his eyes in frustration. "I'm going to fucking lose."

You are about to tell him to write the fucking track himself like everyone else if none of yours were good enough for him but Jimin flashes you a glance. Don't make things worse.

You settle instead for a hand on his shoulder. He tenses at your touch. It had been a while since you'd been in the same room for longer than ten minutes and when you take in the gauntness of his cheekbones you briefly wonder if he's been eating properly. He always did forget when you weren't around to remind him.

You suck in a breath to give you strength. "There must be one that you like."

His lips purse and he disgruntledly goes back to scrolling again, clicking on a couple titles that draw his interest. You and Jimin let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

"What's this?" Namjoon's eyes narrow as he presses play on a track that sends you flying forward, heart in your mouth and colour leaving your face as a song plays that you swore to never show to anyone.

Yoongi's song. The one you wrote after that night in his studio. Probably the best song you had ever written.

"That's not — I was supposed to delete that one." The heat in your cheeks as you push him aside roughly to wrestle with the pause button has you hiding behind your hair, as if he would somehow know this wasn't just an ordinary song. That it was a song about his enemy, for god's sake.

Namjoon's slaps you away from the computer, head bobbing to the beat and you fall back into your seat in defeat, fingers crossed behind your back that he would hate it as much as the others.

"I love it."

Oh no.

"This is the one!"

Shit shit shit!

"A-are you sure?" You're rambling now, words slipping out way too fast and Jimin seems puzzled at your lack of elation at Namjoon's decisiveness. "I'm sure I could write something much better if you just give me some more time—"

Namjoon's arms pull you into a tight embrace before you can finish, your nose ending up smushed against his chest as he practically vibrates with excitement. Your body goes stiff, hands dangling at your sides awkwardly. Considering Namjoon's coldness towards you as of late his sudden display of affection takes you by surprise. Mostly because despite your physical closeness it only makes you feel even more distant from your brother.

A sigh of relief escapes when he finally sets you free, only to be replaced with pure horror as you watch him stick a USB drive into the computer and load up the song before sliding it in his back pocket with a grin while you have no choice but to stand there helplessly.

"I'm totally gonna win!" His change in attitude is abrupt but seems to soothe Jimin who nods enthusiastically. You feel sick. "I can't wait to see the look on Yoongi's face when he hears this shit."

The smirk on his face washes you with dread. If only he knew.

Yoongi was right. Secrets always find a way to come and bite you in the ass.

Every rap of your knuckles against the run down studio door seems to echo ominously through the alley like an omen.

"Y/N?"

As soon as the bolt wrangles across and the wooden panel flies open to reveal a disgruntled Yoongi, a warmth seems to thaw through the icy evening chill that, along with your nerves, is making your knees knock together.

His chest is warm against your cheek when he pulls you into his arms, the smell of cologne and black coffee consuming your senses. It's enough to make your tense limbs fall slack, curling into his firm frame instinctively. Finally. You can breathe again.

"Hey." He mumbles sweetly against your temple, a trace of a smile in his voice like he was happy to see you. You silently wonder if he'll still be so happy once he hears what you have to say.

The studio is basked in darkness, the contours of his face barely visible in the blue glow emanating from his desktop monitor. There's a dent in the cushion of the adjacent chair, Yoongi's hair sticking up at the back where the pair of headphones slung around his neck had sat moments ago.

"I can go if you were working, wouldn't want to interrupt." As the words are leaving your lips you cross your fingers, selfishly hopeful that he would send you away and you could avoid the conversation that was about to follow. Blame it all on circumstance, leave saying that you at least tried.

But that would be keeping a secret. It would make you just as bad as the rest. And the thought of him finding out from someone else was enough to make your palms sweat and enough to keep your feet planted against the carpet determinedly.

Yoongi's hands find you like he can't bare to keep them away, dragging you across the threshold without hesitation. "S'fine. Work better with you here anyway." He smiles and you try to return it but your lips are pressed into a permanent line, like they're scared the daunting words you have to say will come spilling out before you were ready -- if you ever would be ready. As you slump into a chair and watch him wheel another one around to face you with his arms slung lazily over the back, you realise there is no going back.

Considering the countdown to Mic Drop was nearing its end, less than twenty four hours to go before Yoongi would be stood opposite Namjoon on stage in front of thousands, he looked the epitome of relaxation, unlike the nerves in your chest making you jitter.

"Jin's on his way with takeout, I would've asked him to get more if I knew you were coming but I'm sure we can share— babe, are you alright?"

Babe. The endearment had started slipping from his lips frequently recently. At first he tried to cover it up with nervous laughter but now he was brazen, enjoying the way the word tasted on his tongue. It would be so easy to force a smile, to push "the right thing" to the back of your mind and let the selfish part of your heart accept his affections, even knowing you're about to hurt him.

But the clock ticking away on the wall sounds deafening with every beat of silence that follows, twisting the rings on your fingers until you could no longer distinguish the sound from the sinister thrum of your heart.

You can't hold it in any more.

"I need to tell you something." It comes out a hoarse whisper, nearly unintelligible beneath the stream of hip hop from the hifi system in the corner.

"What is it?" Yoongi's concerned eyes never leave you as he reaches over to switch it off, the room now draped in a shroud of quiet. The reality of the situation seeps into every dark corner and right into your bones.

"It's about us. Kind of."

Yoongi rolls closer, stopping your teeth from nibbling your cuticles by slotting his fingers between yours like a perfect puzzle piece. It seems to ground you, like you're filled with helium and he's the weight stopping your feet from floating off the ground. For a second you think everything will be okay. Nothing, not even this betrayal, could come between what you had.

"Did Namjoon find out?" Even in the dim light you see the panic stricken raise of his brows. When your head shakes in a violent negative they smooth back down, relieved, as if nothing you could say next would be worse than that. No matter how hard you try to meet his eyes you can't.

His hand squeezes gently then. You muster up the courage to squeeze back. Perhaps it would soften the blow that was about to follow.

"His song. The one I wrote for Mic Drop...it's about you. I thought you should know. Before you hear it for yourself."

Nothing but an immeasurable silence followed. "Oh."

Yoongi is unreadable, almost as if he didn't hear the words hanging like heavy storm clouds over your heads. You expected him to be angry, to shout -- even cry, maybe. Not knowing how he was feeling was even worse than any scenario you had imagined. Made you feel like you were back to square one and he was shutting you out of the window into his soul you'd worked so hard to wriggle through.

For a second you think the sudden cold against your palm is a result of the numbness coursing through your veins like you were dunked in ice water, but then you see his hand retreat to his lap, eyes wide and staring at it in disbelief like he'd been scalded.

"I...I don't understand." He sounds choked, face contorting with pain. Like it does when he wakes thrashing in the night with a bad dream. Unlike those times though, he doesn't levitate towards you for comfort, just stares at you vacantly like he's far, far away despite being physically close enough for your knees to brush.

"It was written after the first time we...y'know...here--" You glance around, convinced your mind is playing tricks when you see a vision of you in Yoongi's lap across the room, lips attached like nothing else in the world mattered. It feels far away and out of reach when the real Yoongi gets to his feet, creating a distance between you that is foreign, his form staggering across the room so that you could see the way his back tensed beneath his t-shirt when he grips the edge of his desk for support, processing.

"I don't understand."

"I was emotional. It just happened--"

"No. What I don't understand is why you're letting him perform it?" Fists send a stack of sheet music flying to the ground. His lip trembles, face red, with anger or affliction, you can't tell which.

"Yoongi--" You reach for him, fingertips barely grazing his arm before he's smacking you away with a violent shake of his head. He'd never resisted you before. Not even in the beginning.

"You expect me to just sit back and listen to Namjoon of all people rapping the lyrics my girlfr-- that you wrote dissing me? This has to be a fucking joke."

"It's not that kind of track!" You hug your body pitifully. It's the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling apart as his mouth spits a venom that makes your heart shatter. His eyes fill with one thing. Betrayal. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't keep choosing between you anymore, Yoongi. He's my brother."

"And what am I, huh?"

Every second that passes, every stutter or attempt at explanation that leaves your mouth makes Yoongi crumple. You see it in the way his adam's apple bobs, how his shoulders slacken.

For some reason you can't open up. Tell him he means more to you than anyone ever had. That you thought your heart might really break and bleed out on the carpet if he didn't feel the same way.

Instead you settle for, "Why are you so mad? It's my job! I had no choice."

Without warning he's rushing at you, trembling palms capturing your face and pressing his forehead to yours. His breaths shake, chest heaving as he battles internally with the words flying from his lips like a ghostly breath across yours.

"Because I fucking love you, Y/N! Can't you see it? I fucking love you and your bastard of a brother always finds a way to ruin things between us!"

His admission stuns you, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over in a silent stream down your cheeks.

He loves you. He loves you.

"Yoongi--" Words just won't come. Nothing feels right.

Because you love him too. It had taken you this long to admit it to yourself but it was clear now. Every breath, every beat of your heart, every fucking song you would ever write was for him. It scared you before but now, stood here in front of him, you know it's true.

Something hopeless niggles at the back of your head, stops you from spilling everything to him. If he loves you, how can he expect you to choose?

If words couldn't make him see the truth then you'd just have to show him the only way you knew how. Straight from your heart.

You're crying as you dig around in the bottom of your bag to retrieve a USB, pressing it into his curled fist firmly and begging him with your eyes to understand. "Just listen to the song. Please. It'll explain everything. I promise."

You begin to back up and his hand shoots out to stop you, pulling you roughly into his chest which only makes you cry harder, tears creating a wet patch on his T-shirt.

"Please don't leave me. Not again." It's a fragile whisper.

It's all too much.

"I can't choose any longer, Yoongi. This has to end."

With one last look at his crumpled face you flee from his studio with eyes just as watery as the first time you'd walked down this very alley. Except this time it takes all of your strength to resist running back into his arms.

Yoongi can only stand there and watch you go, the USB hot against his hand.

This has to end. The words make his chest burn and he hates it. Hates feeling weak. You always make him feel so fucking weak.

If he can't have you then he had no choice but to do everything in his power to make sure he got the next best thing.

Suddenly it all seemed clear. Yoongi knew what he had to do.

The arena is almost desolate when you creep inside.

Just a sea of empty seats stretching out from both sides of you where you sit in one of the stands, nibbling the skin around your thumb and watching Namjoon pace the stage below.

It's gone midnight by now. Most of the crew went home hours ago. Not Namjoon though. He stayed to practice some more. Said he couldn't get the choreography quite right.

You tried going home but you couldn't get the fight out of your head. Everything reminded you of Yoongi and your thoughts started to wander. Did he hate you? Was he listening to the song right now? Why hasn't he called? Why is your own bed not as comfy as the one you shared with Yoongi?

It all got too much eventually. Something told you that you weren't welcome at the apartment so you ended up heading towards the only other place you knew, surprised to find your brother had the same idea.

A single spotlight illuminates the stage as Namjoon twists his body in time with the one, two, three, four he unconsciously mumbles under his breath, face contorted with a stark concentration that flits to impatience when his foot slips and he misses the beat. Again. It just about sends him over the edge.

"I can't do this anymore!" A microphone squeals and hits the ground with a thump. It reverberates through the arena, your hands flying to your ears as you watch Namjoon let loose all his anger on an innocent amp stand before collapsing into a heap at the edge of the stage. "Fuck this shit!"

You're flying down the stairs to his aid before he can do any serious damage to the stage equipment — or worse, to himself.

Namjoon scoffs when he hears the stage creak under your feet. "Nice of you to show up."

It stings. You snap.

"What happened to you, Namjoon?" You look at his sunken cheekbones, his curled fists, the blackness behind his eyes. "I don't even recognise you anymore."

He just sniffs and says nothing. The distance between you feels bigger than ever.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

A secret? Since when did Namjoon abide by a policy of honesty?

He takes your shocked silence as a yes.

"I'm calling first thing and dropping out of the competition."

Your world stutters to a standstill, breath knocked out of your lungs.

Dropping out?

"Shit Joon...if this is about Yoongi—"

He waves you off. "No. This is about me."

You can't breathe. This can't be real. "I don't understand..."

"I've made up my mind. I can't do this any more. I used to love being up here you know?"

You follow his gaze, out over the empty arena. The last time you were here every seat was filled. You were down there, part of the crowd, packed into the cramped space with barely enough room to breathe.

Imagining how it must feel to be up here comes easy. If you close your eyes you can hear the screams, feel the body heat. Smell the sweat and the anticipation. See thousand faces looking up in awe. At you. It makes your blood run hot.

You much prefer being up here, you decide.

Namjoon brings you back down. "Now it just feels like a chore. I look out and all I see is disappointed faces. I can't pretend for them anymore."

"People travel miles to see you Joon! No one is disappointed."

"Not the fans. They love me. Well, Runch Randa, at least." He cracks a half smile. "It's me whose disappointed. In Kim Namjoon."

You always thought your brother was sure of himself. He's cocky, confident and above all fearless. It's his biggest strength (and his most irritating quality sometimes) but it's what you always admired most about him.

Clearly you didn't know your brother as well as you thought you did.

You bite your lip. "Why?"

He turns to face you, leaning back into his arms while he searches for the right words and, little to your knowledge, gathers the courage to confide in you.

"Because I re-entered Mic Drop for all the wrong reasons. I just wanted to prove myself, you know? Win for real this time, not just by default." He swallows. "But then I saw Yoongi perform. And to be honest? I saw you. I saw how much you care about the music. How you come alive when you're writing lyrics or when you're in the studio." His smile is woeful. "Im supposed to feel like that. But I don't. I never did. It's like I'm always asleep, y'know?"

You did know. Every time you lifted a camera. Every time you pressed the shutter and snapped another shot of Namjoon on stage you felt your soul grow exhausted.

It makes the distance between you and Namjoon close a little. For once you understand each other and you don't have to hide how you feel any more.

"I can't stop thinking that it's your name the fans should be screaming. Not mine. They deserve better than me."

"But you're the best performer I know!" You rush. It always seemed like he wanted to keep you out of the spotlight at all costs. "Why now?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm a selfish person, Y/N. I thought I was protecting you from... all this." He gestures around him. "The late nights and the paparazzi and the criticism and a fucking manager on your back all the time." His eye roll makes you snort, sharing a brief smile at the image of hardworking Jimin mumbling into his headset like a man posessed.

He's quickly serious again though. "Fame comes with a price. But I realize now that the price is worth it if your hearts in the right place and...what I'm trying to say, Y/N, is that mine never was."

You let your chin fall into your palm. Huh. "So that's the big secret?"

"Actually...there's something else." He shifts nervously. "I know about you and Yoongi."

You freeze, scrambling to your knees with wide eyes. "Wait, Joon, let me explain—"

"Let me finish!" Namjoon brushes you off with a breathless laugh, nodding to himself, as if finally coming to a solid conclusion about coming clean when his eyes meet yours. "He's in love with you."

This time it feels like the whole world goes into overdrive. You forget how to breathe.

"What...how...huh?"

It's Namjoon's palm squeezing your knee reassuringly that brings you back down.

"He always was. Even back before things got messed up." A deep breath. Something was coming, you could tell by the way his eye twitched nervously. "That's why me and Yoongi fought. That's why I...I lied and said that I wrote the song the night of the Mic Drop final...accused him of plagiarism—" Your mouth gapes. "I know! I know. Don't look at me like that. I can see the irony."

It all makes sense now. She's a part of this, Namjoon, whether you like it or not.

The reason Namjoon sacrificed his best friend wasn't for fame but for your sake?

You want to fly at your brother, scream at him for keeping this from you for so long. For turning you against Yoongi. For keeping you from the only person to make you feel safe. Feel Happy.

But his eyes are void of anything other than regret and you can tell his betrayal had been playing on his mind all these years.

"Point is, I didn't want you to get hurt." He shuffles awkwardly, not knowing what to do with your silence. "That's not an excuse, I know. Do you hate me?"

"No." Your voice sounds small. His chest heaves with relief. "I just wish you had been honest with me before. Saved us a ton of trouble."

"I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was a shitty brother in the end anyway."

It's strange. Even after all the fights and the resentment and the goddamn secrets, you don't think Namjoon is a shitty brother. Sure, his actions and intentions were shitty there was no denying it. But now it's like the puzzle pieces finally click into place and the full photograph comes into view, crystal clear.

All this time, he just wanted to protect you, when you should have been protecting him. He was hurting too, you just never knew it.

"It's not too late, Joon. Just be happy for me okay? I think..." If Namjoon plucked up the courage to tell you his secrets then it was only fair that you did too. "I love him too."

A pinkish tinge caresses your face when you finally admit it, both out loud and to yourself.

You love Yoongi. And now all the cards are on the table there's nothing holding you back from it.

Now you just need to tell Yoongi.

"I know. You think I don't know who that song is about?" The grin that spreads across Namjoon's features is sincere."And I am. Happy for you, I mean."

Now the truth is out in the open it feels like your wounds are already beginning to heal. You place your hand over his and squeeze it tight. It was time to forgive.

A thought suddenly strikes you. "So what are you gonna do now?

Namjoon fumbles in the back pocket of his jeans, thrusting something towards you. A polaroid picture. The same photo you'd seen at Yoongi's studio.

He kept it, too?

"This kid." His finger jabs at the innocent face of a younger Namjoon, arm wrapped around the shoulders of his best friend. "I didn't get enough time to live as him before I became Runch Randa. I think it's time to just live as Namjoon for a while."

"But what about Big Hit? It'll fall apart and mom and dad will kill you—"

"No it won't. They have you. I already talked to them, in fact. There's a stage with your name on it right here." He pats the ground. "If you want it, that is."

You blink, stunned. You? "I...I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you." Namjoon says. "And I'll be cheering you on from the front row."

You'd have to think about it long and hard but you can't help the grin that appears on your face. Things were going to be okay.

An urge rises in your chest to tell Yoongi this news. To see the way his face would light up as you started the journey to following your own dreams, like he always said you should.

You and Yoongi were going to be okay.

"Hey! Maybe I should try photography now I have some free time." Namjoon tugs at the camera strap around your neck, lifting his eye to the viewfinder and laughing when you cover the lens with your hands. "Damn I'm kinda good!"

You bump his shoulder teasingly, the belly laughter that spills into the arena feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

You're only interrupted by approaching footsteps. Jimin bursts into the arena.

"Namjoon," he pants. "I have some bad news."

It's compulsory for all competitors to attend the crowning ceremony. Even those who get disqualified.

RUNCH RANDA BLACKLISTED FROM COMPETING IN FUTURE HIP HOP COMPETITIONS AFTER PLAGIARISM SCANDAL SURFACES.

Just one of the devastating headlines that hit the media after the judges panel received an anonymous tip in the form of a USB stick that exposed Namjoon once and for all. The same USB that you pressed into Yoongi's hands just hours before Namjoon's disqualification.

RAPPER GLOSS TO SNATCH MIC DROP TROPHY IN SHOCKING REVENGE FOR HIS BRUTAL DEFEAT.

Namjoon reads it aloud in the back of the car. He laughs at the end but it does nothing to lighten the mood.

The windows are tinted but you can still see the hoards of fans lining the streets, eyes steeped in betrayal.

You should hear the way they boo as your brother drives past. You should hear the way they chant his name instead.

Yoongi! Yoongi! Yoongi!

But you don't. You don't hear anything. You don't feel anything. All you can think of is the same three words, throbbing in your chest over and over again.

I love you.

Did he mean them at all?

"Y/N? Did you hear me?"

"Hm?" You look up. Namjoon's staring at you with concern.

"Your phone's ringing again."

It's no surprise when you pull out your phone and see a contact picture of yourself and Yoongi gracing the screen. He's been calling all morning. It takes every strength inside you to tap the red decline button.

"Aren't you gonna talk to him?"

Another call lights up the screen.

"Not like this."

With trembling fingers you shut your phone off all together.

Paparazzi cameras flash brazenly as you step out of the black company car, following Namjoon with your hood pulled tightly round your face. A hoard of body guards usher you through a back door to the arena. The main entrance is reserved for notable guests only, you learn.

While Namjoon's presence usually makes the room buzz with an electric energy, there's no excitement when he enters now. An awkward hush falls like a shroud as he elbows his way past pitiful stares. It's like someone died. In a way it's true; there's no trace of Runch Randa in Namjoon's hunched stance. Here, the dead still walks for everyone to see.

Jimin's waiting by the stage door. No words are exchanged as he slips passes into your hands. Namjoon's has a big red strike through the word TALENT, "guest" scribbled all too generously below it to match your own.

It's nearing show time. They're just waiting for you to take your seats, Jimin says, though you barely hear him. You're too busy imagining what you would do if you bumped into him right now, heart pounding whenever you catch a glimpse of blue or hear a laugh you're convinced you recognise.

Deep down you know exactly where you have to go to find him. To find Yoongi.

"I'll join you in a second, okay?"

Namjoon looks nervous, the first time you've ever seen him with such a severe case of the jitters. His smile is empty when you rub his forearm reassuringly. "Don't be too long. If I'm gonna do this I want you by my side."

You manage a smile. "Always."

With that, Namjoon takes a deep breath and pushes out into the life of the arena and you find your feet numbly carrying you down back corridors you know by heart until you reach his dressing room.

Your heart is blind, you think. Even now the shattered fragments ache for him, beat a little faster knowing he's just behind this door.

Why can't you go back to hating him, just like you did before? Deep down you know it's because you never really hated Yoongi. You don't think you ever could.

Forgiving him, though? Some wounds never heal, no matter how badly you want them to.

You pause outside the door. The stupid gold star that used to be there has been scraped off, replaced with a new name tag. Gloss. You put your ear to the wood. Nothing.

A deep breath and you find the handle. Should you burst in and give him a piece of your mind? Knock and enter politely? You can't help but scoff. Shouldn't he be the one coming to find you?

He calls your name before you can do either.

"Y/N?"

Fuck. Is hearing his voice supposed to hurt this bad?

You don't know what you're expecting when you turn around. Something different about him perhaps. A sign that he isn't the person you had grown to know. Grown to love.

But there he is. All messy blue hair and bitten lips and eyes a little red around the edges. Your Yoongi.

Your arms curl around your body like a band aid, holding you together. You can't crumble. Not now.

He looks stony but his eyes flicker with tender remorse when he sees the tears staining your cheeks.

His hands reach for you instinctively. The same hands that make love to his piano in the shitty apartment above the coffee shop. The same hands that could make you fall apart with even a delicate touch. You want to run into them so bad it hurts. But now they're stained red with betrayal and he chokes when you recoil.

Seconds feel like hours as you just stand there taking each other in like it's been years. It's only been a day or two. Maybe three? You can't remember. They all rolled into one meaningless blur of angry tears and insomnia.

You had a whole speech prepared for the moment you finally faced him again. But there are no words that feel right. You just need to know. If he meant every touch and every inside joke and those three words that make your heart soar despite how badly you want to hate him. And there's only one way to find out.

"Why did you do it?"

Your voice sounds timid and scared, like you feel. He winces.

"Y/N, let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Your voice raises shakily."How you lied to me? How you used me?"

He rushes towards you and it takes all of your strength to draw back, especially when his eyes look so frantic, so desperate. Like he's having one of his nightmares. It tugs at your heart because this time the nightmare is real and you're living in it.

"It's not like that—"

"Did you ever even want me? What about all that fair and square bullshit you told me huh?"

"Of course I wanted you Y/N...want you." His eyes fill with pain. "This wasn't meant to happen. I know how this looks but I just panicked!"

You rush at him, fists curled like that day in his studio except this time he doesn't stop you when you start hitting his chest, vision blurry.

"He was going to pull out! Namjoon was going to let you win! So that I could -- we could be happy!"

"What I...I don't understand?" His mouth gapes, processing. "But you didn't..." He swallows, like remembering is painful. "When I confessed, you didn't say it back. I thought we were over! I thought I had nothing to lose, Y/N. He had already won..."

You remember your words. I can't do this anymore. A misunderstanding that would never have happened if he just—

"Did you even listen to the song?"

His face drops at the mention of the song. "No." He looks like he might cry. "I was angry! I...I acted impulsively. I never got the chance..."

You bared your soul in that song in ways you never thought you could. He wasn't supposed to find out how you felt about him this way. Not here, when you're falling apart and there's nothing you can do to stop it. But it all comes tumbling out before you can change your mind.

"I wrote that song because I love you, Yoongi!"

Silence. He has to grip the wall to steady himself.

"Y-you love me?"

"I love you." The words feel indulgent on your tongue and even now as they hang heavy in the air and you're overcome with an indescribable combination of grief and longing, you mean them with every bone in your body.

You rush at him. You can't help it. Can't resist how your head falls into his chest and how you cry harder when you breathe in his scent one last time, sobs muffled by his hoodie. But he hears them, you know he does, because his hands are trembling when they pull you closer like you're fragile enough to break.

"I love you. So fucking much it hurts, Yoongi."

You're weak. You're so so weak.

You don't know why you do it but you grab his face with both hands and then you're kissing him. Showing him how much you need him, how much you mean your words. His hand cups your jaw like always and his lips press back with a tender desperation and you believe him. You believe that he loves you. Whole and true. Because in that moment, with his lips on yours, everything is okay. He's your Yoongi and you're his Y/N and he loves you.

But then you pull back and he's crying too and everything's broken and your heart goes numb.

"I'm sorry. God, Y/N I'm so sorry. If I could take it back I promise I would."

You muster up all the strength you can. You know what you have to do.

"I'm giving you a choice, Yoongi. You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over. For real."

He tries to kiss you again, grabbing at you frantically when you turn your cheek.

"Y/N, don't do this. We love each other. That's all that matters right?" He musters up the closest thing to a smile he can manage, like he's convincing himself more than he is you. "You don't have to—"

"No." You pull away from grip. It feels cold and wrong. "I have to do this. If you love me like you say you'll...you'll understand."

You turn but he grabs your wrist, pins you in place.

"I can't lose you to him again, Y/N. I...I already lost you once and I don't think I..."

The hard faced Min Yoongi you once knew is gone. All that's left is the vulnerable man in front of you who holds your heart in your hands with a grip so tight it scares you.

"He can't win...please."

You suck in a final breath.

"Please what? Don't make you choose between me and that stupid fucking trophy? You did this to yourself, Yoongi." You turn and this time he lets you. "The only person pushing me away is you."

"Y/N please, wait!"

You don't dare turn to look at him as you walk away. Not even when he pleads or you hear him fall to his knees, a strangled sob echoing down the hall. You're scared you might run back to him if you do.

You don't let yourself break down until you turn the corner. Yoongi doesn't follow.

"I'm okay." You assure Namjoon as you take a seat beside him inside the arena. It's a lie, of course. No amount of cold water splashed on your face in the bathroom could prepare you for this moment.

You're just in time. The ceremony is already starting. The host is taking the stage and the lights are dimming but you're too numb to care.

You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over.

Your decision is final. There's no going back. You've cried all your tears. You've said all that needed to be said. All you're left with now is a sickly feeling in your stomach as you look down at the trophy sat in a display case center stage.

We love each other. A slither of hope tugs at your heart strings. You barely manage to suppress it.

"Sorry! Excuse me!" The empty seat to your left sinks under the weight of Hoseok as he clumsily stumbles into the arena, late as always.

He offers you a smile which turns to a frown when you only stare past him vacantly, straining your neck to keep an eye on the stage.

A hand covers yours. You freeze at the contact, only relaxing when you peer through the darkness to find Hoseok staring at you gently. His voice is a whisper. "Whatever happens I'm here for you, okay?"

A wave of emotion crashes through you and you think you might cry again. You can't make your lips sound out a response but Hoseok understands and you feel a little stronger when you turn your attention back to the ceremony knowing you have someone by your side.

"As you all know there have been some...complications with this year's finalists." The host coughs and fiddles with his tie awkwardly. "But we are glad to announce that we do in fact have a winner here with us today!"

The crowd chants Yoongi's name again. Namjoon stiffens. Your free hand grabs his and he squeezes it tight.

"So without further ado, I would like to welcome this year's winner, Gloss!"

The crowd goes wild but the sound is drowned out by a ringing in your ears. It's like you're underwater, holding your breath as you wait and wait for him to take the stage and all the oxygen to slip away.

One...two...three...

You get to ten seconds, then twenty seconds and then thirty and by the time you get to forty you feel yourself break the surface, take a heaving breath.

You're floating. He chose you.

He loves you! Yoongi loves you! He—

No.

You're seeing things. You must be. That can't be Yoongi's face lighting up every screen in the room. That can't be him crossing the stage and taking the trophy from the hands of the host with a smug grin. That can't be Yoongi holding it up in the air like a martyr.

That can't be your Yoongi. This is a stranger.

You crash back to reality when Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist and you realise your sobbing. Sobbing so hard it hurts your chest and your lungs burn with misuse and you're sure the tears will never stop.

"It's okay! Shh."

Nothing is okay. Nothing.

Yoongi's face is still blown up on the big screens in painful detail. The smile on his face falters when he looks out into the crowd and spots you instantly. Sees you crumple.

There are two things Min Yoongi ever loved in this world.

His music and you.

The trophy feels cold in his hands. The crowd gasps as he rushes to the edge of the stage and calls out to you.

"Y/N wait! I'm sorry—"

You hear his voice through the speakers but it's too late. You're already running.

Yoongi's mic drops to the ground.

Yoongi's nightmares are back. Except this time they're different.

When he closes his eyes you're there. Smiling and laughing like you used to. His heart warms and he reaches for you...

And then he realises it's not you. Just a picture, blown up on the big screen as you cross the stage at the front of the room he's suddenly aware he's in.

He glances around at the indistinguishable people around him, all smiling and clapping ferociously. Why isn't he happy?

The bottle in his hand is half empty. He's realises he's screaming. So hard his throat burns and his lungs beg for air but you don't even look his way. He screams your name, over and over again. Nobody seems to hear him.

Namjoon's there too. Bouncing a baby on his knee, maybe one or two years old if he has to guess.

"That'll be you one day," He whispers, but its deafening to Yoongi. "Only the very best for my niece." The baby giggles up at him, stubby fingers wrapped around his thumb.

She has your eyes. The very same eyes Yoongi would look into like they held everything in the world. The very same eyes Yoongi saw fill with pain on the last day he saw you before things got messed up.

She has Hoseok's nose. And his mouth, too, small and heart shaped. The resemblance is uncanny as Hoseok appears beside Namjoon, takes the baby girl into his arms and places a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Then there you are. The same old Y/N. The same smile that makes your eyes crinkle and the same laughter than makes his heart melt. The same girl who used to love him.

Though it's clear that that much is no longer true. Not when you lean up to kiss Hoseok on the cheek, Namjoon drawing you into a hug when you present the trophy in your hands to them with an elated laugh.

A family.

It feels like he's been punched in the stomach.

Yoongi always thought winning Mic Drop would mean he had everything. Fame. Money. Glory.

He didn't need family. He always got by on his own.

It took holding the whole world in the palm of his hand to realise none of it meant anything if he didn't have you by his side.

You were his everything. But he was too stupid to see it and he let you slip away.

It's too late now.

A hand appears on his shoulder. It's cold, grip bruising. The voice that comes next gives him chills every single time.

"So was it worth it?" Namjoon asks.

Yoongi tries to answer but his vision is blurred with hot tears now and he's on his hands and knees and he's screaming.

And when he wakes up at ass o clock, sweaty and gasping for air, he still finds himself reaching for your warmth beside him.

But all his fingers find are cold sheets and bitterness.

extended a/n: okay so if you have reached this far then you are a TROOPER. a trooper who i love and appreciate endlessly for reading 30k of my waffle lmao im so sorry <3 ksksksk so this fic has been in my head for the longest time and in my drafts for almost five months so im super attached to it and putting this out is like the scariest ever?? i really put my heart into this piece, like y’all don’t understand how many times it’s cropped up in my dreams and I’ve woken up like MUST WRITE. it’s far from perfect but i tried my best!! i can’t tell you how many scenes had to be rewritten until i was happy enough with them bc this fic is literally my baby in every sense of the word and i wanted to get it right :( although that just made the ending even more SOUL DESTROYING to write for me ugh i had the ending set in my mind before i even started writing but there were moments where i jus wanted yoongi and oc to be happy ever after :( but alas, I feel like this ending was far more realistic for them and i couldn’t go against my gut sigh. there may be a few drabbles planned in the future tho to make up for the angst :) Anyway!!! I’ll stop rambling. Thank you for reading this far, if anyone has. TROOPER. love you <3

updated 12/01/19: drabble #1 | drabble #2 | drabble #3

#ksmutclub #bts #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagine #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #thebtstown #yoonkooknetwork #yoongi scenario #my writing #fic: mic drop #love yourself collab

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cattles-bians · 3 years

Text

exes au part 15

post directory

em: viola teas i am like. incapable of sleeping in

em: i woke up 10:30 on the dot and i thought. what the fuck

em: 10:30 is especially offensive bc it means the mcdonald’s breakfast is done

obsetress: brain immediately said viola up and about doing all the chores vacuuming with no sympathy for her constantly sleeping in snoring girlfriend dani clayton

obsetress: but nah i'm sorry for you that sucks

em: inspiring deranged viola behaviour is

em: the greatest gift of all

obsetress: god so true when u think about it

obsetress: not that viola vacuums, she def has cleaners but

obsetress: actually no

obsetress: she has cleaners but she's prob not satisfied and gets out her expensive vacuum she has no idea how to use and is clattering n making such a fuss

obsetress: and poor dani

em: she’s up and about rearranging things, she’s causing a ruckus,

obsetress: dani's like "you have just as bad insomnia as me and you're just... getting up? that early?"

obsetress: viola shrugs "i don't need that much sleep"

obsetress: "you do, though"

obsetress: she shrugs and disappears into the kitchen

obsetress: insomniac gf and insomniac gf

em: insomnia gfs

em: viola runs on like

em: supernatural element carrying over: viola is a little too good at running on no sleep and no one knows if she ages

obsetress: YEAH

em: i love a sorta, grounded real life show w like one or two unexplained ambiguously supernatural things that no one blinks at

obsetress: i was gonna be like

obsetress: i wonder what dani and viola do when theyre up not sleeping at night and then i was like

obsetress: Well,

obsetress: no they do that but they also do the most random borderline unhinged shit like

obsetress: dani tries new baking recipes and they sit on the countertop in their pjs or underwear or nothing and eat scones at three am

em: go for night drives

em: night drives aren’t even unhinged but they’re nice

em: but they don’t listen to music they listen to fucken podcasts

obsetress: that fuckin lorde song

[em note: it's supercut]

obsetress: they go to the roof and dani lays her head in viola's lap and stares at the stars while viola reads to her in french

obsetress: ugh i put it on oh god why did i put it on

[em note: it's still supercut]

obsetress: in my head.........

obsetress: i do everything right............

obsetress: when you call............

obsetress: i'll forgive and not fight.............

obsetress: ours are the moments.........i play in the dark OH MY GOD VI'S INSOMNIA AFTER DANI LEAVES AND SHES ALONE

em: ur a MONSTER

obsetress: i need to lay on the floor and put this song on repeat

obsetress: anyway um

obsetress: another thought from when i was thinking about the vacuum like

obsetress: viola has a degree of learned helplessness that all rich people have but she's not an idiot like the rest of them yknow and i think like

obsetress: she had to do a lot when she and perdita were kids!

obsetress: after her mom died

em: hannah......

obsetress: and then after her dad died before she married arthur and like

obsetress: then being a single mom (viola lloyd single mom i'm drooling) even w all the help she can afford

obsetress: she has a chip on her shoulder and Does Things For Herself but also just

obsetress: sometimes it happens! there's never enough time and never enough help!

obsetress: and she loves isabel so much like

obsetress: viola making isabel her lunches

obsetress: oh god

em: making her little lunches at like 2am bc it’s been a busy day and she’s tired and she’s sore and she’s sad but the one thing viola will never skip is like

em: making sure isabel gets her lunches

em: hey what is wrong with us

obsetress: GOD YEAH

obsetress: EXACTLY

obsetress: HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS THINKING ABOUT HER MAKING THEM AT TWO AM UGH

obsetress: anyway um yeah viola making isabel her lunches at two am

obsetress: i know that i wrote jamie leaving flora notes on her napkins but like

[em note: read 'and she taught me a lesson alright']

obsetress: i just think it's something a mom who really loves her kid and wants them to feel safe and okay would do so i want to say vi does it for isabel too!!! and what of it they're different universes it's fine

em: ur just building the hannah obsetress cinematic universe

em: building up some Themes and Motifs

obsetress: themes motifs and symbols

obsetress: anyway viola packing isabels lunches she writes little notes and puts on lipstick n kisses them

obsetress: so isabel can get a kiss from her mom

em: im going to kill u w my bare hands

obsetress: cut to vi in the bathroom wiping it off later à la jennifer check

em: im GONNA

obsetress: sometimes when vi has to go out of town for business or w/e she leaves a stack of napkins with arthur to put in isabel's lunch so she can still get a kiss from her mom even when she's gone

em: thats so extra??

em: its so viola

obsetress: exactly

obsetress: she definitely has a fear of isabel favoring arthur over her (abandonment issues etc etc)

obsetress: gestures at canon

—-

em: dani 'its casual' taylor

obsetress: leave the typo

obsetress: dont you dare change it

em: i need u to know that i DO fuck but

em: hgfngjkyhGJBJKFHD FUCK

em: ruined my own joke

obsetress: in the most spectacular way

em: dani 'i need you to know i DO fuck but im accepting offers' clayton

obsetress: she takes care to drop that like

obsetress: it's just casual SHE'S not anything serious. i'm not dating HER or anything

obsetress: jamie's like dani i know you're gay you literally stare at my lips every time i talk

em: dani getting off the phone and dramatically rolling her eyes like 'ex girlfriends, am i right? whats up with these women i-' and jamies like love i get it

obsetress: jamie raising her eyebrows "how many ex girlfriends do you have"

obsetress: dani's like "well, just the one, but"

em: but i COULD have more. if i wanted to. bc i am looking to date more women

em: jamies like ok cool

obsetress: jamie, a little too casually: oh? any, uh. prospects?

em: danis like (patented nervous dani lip bite) maybe but

em: jamies like drat

em: jamies like darn

em: and then she gets home and shes like

em: wait

obsetress: jamie calling dani back "when you said maybe"

obsetress: and dani immediately is like yEAH?

em: jamies like do you think you could ever be interested in me and danis like umm. yeah.

em: jamie hangs up like ok cool

em: long beat

obsetress: oh my GOD

em: REDIALS

---

obsetress: ok last thing i was gonna say

obsetress: i meant to say this earlier and got distracted a hundred times over

obsetress: but um imagine dani helping isabel with her english homework

obsetress: vi helping isabel with her math homework

em: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

em: SOFT

obsetress: well,

em: oh no

obsetress: isabel needing help w her english homework post dani and vi's trying to help and vi's smart n all but

em: get HELP

---

em: dani 'hooking up w my ex is actually a v girlboss of me' is SO funny to me

em: when they get together danis like, oh but havent we all- and jamies like nooo i have very good boundaries

em: except for the perdi vi psychosexual power play ig

obsetress: moment of weakness

obsetress: who wouldn't want to hook up w their hot boss

—

obsetress: when dani goes up to london whatever weekend like friday night to get her closure dinner with vi

obsetress: boom haircut and therapy reveal

em: 3 day bender u say

obsetress: all of a sudden it's sunday night and

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: they spend

obsetress: all fucking weekend

obsetress: in vi's bed

em: sighs dreamily

obsetress: dani playing with her hair

obsetress: "this is nice"

obsetress: "i'm gonna miss your bun though"

obsetress: vi's brain is short circuiting at "i'm gonna miss"

em: later danis like look. jamie. what would you have done? and jamie chokes on her beer and splutters 'not fuck my ex for 3 days straight?!'

obsetress: dani "well you've never fucked v–– oh wait"

obsetress: "you really can't blame me, jamie, you KNOW" jamie: (grumbles)its different... dani: well i mean i guess, technically, you didnt,

obsetress: unrelated in some bad fight at the end vi is like "you can't go isabel needs a–– you're like her–––" and dani's like "a what? say it" and viola's too stubborn and proud and hurt to say it

em: just perpetually bouncing back to the worlds angstiest break up

obsetress: i don't know WHY

obsetress: as someone who HATES ANGST

obsetress: i am so DRAWN to these two

em: its ummmm weirdly cathartic??

em: the whole exes au is based on a joke about them being friends and exes. we are v firm in like. viola and dani reconcile!

em: idk i love a catharsis moment! i love it when a character claws their way to happiness. or even begrudgingly goes to therapy

em: viola can go through a little hell as a treat

obsetress: turns out the only one who could fix her in the end

obsetress: was the one who said it's not my job to fix you

em: dani transformative power of (platonic) love

obsetress: "Platonic"

#the dani jamie viola rebecca exes au

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rwbyremnants · 3 years

Link

NOTE: Car sex, cunnilingus.

WOW, I can't believe after so long between updates it's finally all up! Hope you guys enjoyed the ride and are happy that Ruby and Winter figured it all out. Again, I know sometimes this account goes quiet even though I'm always writing; I just can't always find the time to set aside to edit and update the fics. It won't be right away but I can tell you that the next installment of the White Noise universe is definitely coming someday. Until then, see you in the other fics!

-NBW

=Chapter 11

Once the newly happy couple entered the conservatory, it became too crowded to talk about their private affairs. Everyone was sat around in the living room, surrounding Weiss who took the middle of the sofa with Yang at her side. Blake and Sun had made it, and they were lingering near Yang. There was still no sign of Qrow, Taiyang or Penny yet. They must have been more held up than they thought. Even if people were still engaged in their own conversations rather than fully focusing on their host, it was still too risky.

But that didn't stop Ruby standing in place by Winter's side, idly brushing their hands by one another. Not holding, but enough to make her presence known.

"Okay, I guess we're ready!" Weiss was announcing as Winter hooked her own pinky around Ruby's. No one would have noticed how nervous she was unless they were close to her - either physically or emotionally. Nervous, yet excited.

"Hang on," Blake said, holding up her phone and aiming the camera at Weiss. "Okay, ready!"

"Open Yang's! It's sappy!" Ruby called across the crowd loudly, knowing it would definitely be heard on the recording.

It was a small haul of presents in comparison to previous years, but no one particularly minded. Both the hosts understood that many of their guests either didn't know what to get or couldn't afford much – and they themselves had insisted nobody break the bank. It made the cards reviewed all the more special, which Weiss had Yang display by the fireplace right away.

Nearly an hour later, everyone had gathered at the dinner table. Weiss put the various presents to one side but insisted on wearing the bracelet. While agreeing it was sappy, she loved it – just as both Ruby and Yang suspected she would. Yang and Weiss were sat at one end, with Fènleng in her high chair at the head of the table. By their side were Sun and Blake, then Neon and Inu, then Winter and Ruby. The rest of the guests were further along, with only a few taking the sofa due to lack of space at the table. Everyone took what they wanted from the buffet of sandwiches and snacks, complimenting Neon and Yang who had put it all together on this occasion.

Ruby sometimes managed to give Winter a shy wave. There was still no sign of Penny just yet. But while things were up in the air with Winter, she assumed that was for the best. They could talk soon.

"You know," Winter said to Neon as she leaned to one side so they could speak more easily, "you two did quite a good job on this spread. If you ever get tired of performing, you could probably try your hand at party planning."

Blowing a loud raspberry, she smirked back toward her. "No way! Any nimrod can spread some mayo on bread’n add some tuna or ham. I just needed to do it a few hundred times!"

"Well, I might think about it! I'm sure as hell still not used to going out and people recognising me on the street, like I’m somebody." Grabbing a few of the cheese sandwiches and some potato chips, Yang looked toward her little sister from across the table. "Don't worry, I put Penny's vegan stuff to the side so she'll have plenty when she gets here. Made it special!"

"Oh, great! She'll really like that!" Ruby grinned straight back, having just put a bratwurst on her plate and adding more chips. "They're still held up, I think… traffic must be bad."

"Sometimes it gets pretty congested," Weiss agreed as she popped a devilled egg into her mouth. "Flying out of Nashville is as miserable as LAX. But you get used to it."

"This tuna is excellent," Blake commented with a smile. "You really went all out."

"Seconded! I'm surprised it hasn’t summoned the real cat yet." Taking a few of the tuna sandwiches for herself, Neon then looked back to Weiss while she prepared her own and some of Fènleng's food. "Hey, where is Xu-Xu anyways?"

But while they had their light, aimless conversations, it seemed Ruby was zoning out for a moment. She had got her food, and simply stared blankly at her plate as she began to eat. Dwelling on Penny being late would do no good for her mood, so eating was a good solution.

And so was something else going on under the table. About a third of the way through her bratwurst, Ruby could feel a sensation sliding up her calf. It was very light, but definitely present; a teasing. As it did so, she could hear Winter answering another question Blake had asked.

"Oh, I'm not much of a pet person. But I might be persuaded to take in a rescue." Her eyes flicked between both her and Ruby. "Perhaps a cat and a dog, if they could play nice with each other."

Swallowing the meat in her mouth, Ruby shuddered with both a mixture of shock and pleasure. She could feel very easily it was Winter's soft foot, teasing her with those pedicured nails. And it began to rise! Then it hit her: Winter's ultimate payback for what happened with her father. She wasn't finished with her just yet, but could balance their debts by winding her up in front of all the guests.

"Really?" Blake was laughing with a wider smile. "Maybe find a cat who wouldn't mind being cat-sat by you until you could adopt one of your own. I could help you with that."

The elder Schnee sister hummed her agreement as the teasing went up to Ruby's knee, tracing tiny circles as it went. "You know, that might be nice. Test if I'm really ready to take on a pet full-time."

Again, her eyes went back to Ruby. Now biting her lip, Ruby waited for what was coming. She had to maintain a mask of calm, not show that she was really flustered. She never considered all these factors when doing it to Winter. No wonder she wanted to get back at her in this way; it would teach her not to underestimate how hard this was to do on the receiving end.

"Ahem!" Sun ejaculated toward Winter in regards to her comments. Assuming they were intended for Blake, he leant forward. "'Ix-nay' on the 'Et stuff-pay', alright? These people are super vanilla!"

Leaning forward herself, Winter's foot disappeared during the action. "Nobody would pick up on what we meant if you weren't drawing more attention to it, Monkey Boy," she hissed. Though she was still smiling; not at all upset, just mildly bemused that Sun had let himself get so easily flustered.

Looking downward got his plate and groaning in annoyance instead, he murmured, "Just shut up and eat your sandwiches."

But Ruby was finally sighing with relief, going back to her sandwich. She assumed that Winter had stopped taunting her, thinking she realised how mean it really was in front of people. That she had enjoyed her revenge.

"Aww, it's okay," Blake was murmuring to Sun very gently, petting his shoulder to soothe him. "But Winter is right in this case; we were just talking about pets. No big deal."

"And a well cared for pet is a happy pet," Winter went on, as her foot resumed its upward progress - this time, starting at the knee and working inward. "Don't worry, I've done a lot of pet-sitting in my time."

"Oh really?” Yang put in. “We'll have to get you to cat-sit Xu-Xu for us, Winter. See, we wanted to take Fènleng to Disneyland sometime soon-"

Yang was immediately cut off by Neon. "Kids her age can barely go on anything!"

"Who said it was just for her?"

But the host's little sister was distracted once more. Forced to release the sandwich which dropped to her plate, she froze up once again. Winter was continuing to wind her up in plain sight. She only hoped that no one was going to notice, somehow.

"Wouldn't mind it a bit," she was saying serenely while pushing her foot further and further between Ruby's thighs, underneath the meager protection her skit offered. "Though Neon does have a point. It might be more fun if you leave Fèn with one of us and just go to Disney yourselves."

"I could never do that!" Weiss gasped out, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder for emphasis. "My little girl, alone, for days at a time?!"

"Babe, didn't you wanna go back on tour for a couple of months next year, though?" Yang laughed. Looking back to Neon and Winter, she smiled. "For her, it would mainly be for pictures. We wanna build lots of memories and make some scrapbooks and stuff. You know, stuff to embarrass her with in front of her friends, or when she brings a date home."

Once the foot pressed home beneath the skirt, however, there was a harsh thud at the table from where Ruby jumped in surprise, knees impacting with the surface above. Either way, it got quite a bit of attention - the opposite of what she wanted. Already her cheeks were glowing.

It was remarkable how real the look of confusion and concern on Winter's face was as she asked, "Are you alright?" Even as the toes resumed their progress, getting so close to the mark again, she was laying her palms on either side of her plate, as if pretending she was about to stand.

"I-I… U-Uh…" By now, Ruby could feel her right up against her panties, pressing inward and taunting her fragile flesh. How was she supposed to respond to that with everyone looking? She didn't have as much self-control as Winter did!

There was nothing else for it. As much as she didn't want to give up and accept her fate, she found herself having to move her chair back slightly. He blush was completely red, enough to give Winter a big enough hint that her efforts were not fruitless. Once out of the foot's reach, she shot an apologetic look over toward Weiss.

"S-sorry, just need the bathroom. Where, uh, was it again?"

"There's one right here on this floor," Weiss said in some confusion. "And downstairs and upstairs, of course. You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Y-yeah… I… Sorry, I forgot. I'm being dumb. E-excuse me!"

And barely even managing to tuck her skirt back down in time, Ruby dashed away from her chair and straight to the bathroom, leaving their guests very confused. Winter had to play it cool. Even with the guilty thrill that shot into her stomach, she had to at least pretend that she had no idea that anything was wrong with Ruby. However, after a full minute had passed, she withdrew her phone from her bosom and sent a quick message.

R u ok?

"Your sister's kinda crazy, Yang." Neon was heard commenting as she went to grab more tuna sandwiches.

"Yeah, but at least she's in better moods now." Yang admitted, looking toward the eldest Schnee with a bright smile. "We got Winter to thank for that."

But after a short moment, there was a buzz through to Winter's phone. A message back.

Fine! I guess I deserved that. But I knew I was gonna end up moaning so I had to leave quick! D:

"Oh, I just… did what I could," Winter said evasively as she began to type back.

You could have stopped me and said it was too much, I just thought it would be fun ; ) I'll help you moan more later

"My sister's so modest," Weiss said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. But she was smirking. "She's so good at reassuring people. The same sister who once convinced me that if I ate a caterpillar, I would have a literal butterfly in my stomach."

"That was ONE time!" Winter said in exasperation as she laid her phone down to take a drink of water. "And I was five, you can hardly blame me!"

While everyone chuckled, Weiss said, "Can't I?"

"Oh, that's bush league compared to the stuff I did." Yang laughed, holding up the hand with her sandwich to gesture along with her story. "When we had our first dog, Ein, Ruby would always try and run around on all fours like him. I told her if she did absolutely everything a dog does, she would be able to turn into one."

"Oh my God, please tell me she didn't whiz on any fire hydrants!" Sun was already laughing halfway through Yang's story, but then came another vibration from Winter's phone.

Honestly I haven't felt up to doing anything so long it's so tempting just to go to town on myself in here o//o

"Nothing like that!" Yang could be heard continuing. "But I looked away for two minutes, then suddenly both Ein and Ruby are rolling in a pool of mud! Dad was so pissed when we got home!"

With a knowing glint in her eye, Blake said in a deceptively-casual tone, "Wow, maybe you should look after Ruby when you look after Xu-Xu, Winter."

"Oh? Oh, I- perhaps so!" Now Winter could feel her own desires returning, but she was well practiced at maintaining a façade; no one else would know she was turned on. Even as she began to casually type…

Not yet. Please? I want to help more… directly. Tell me where to meet u

Here? Really???

But Yang quickly gave Blake a rather playful glare. She might have been oblivious to what Blake was talking about, but assumed it was something else instead. "What are you saying, my sister's a furry or something? Gross."

Another vibration. Ruby had added to her last reply before Winter could type her own: My car.

"Nothing against furries, but if she likes rolling around in the dirt, might be better to have someone putting her on a leash." Again, Blake glanced at Winter with a smirk.

"Well, I think this conversation is taking a turn for the strange," Weiss observed as she reached for another handful of chips to add to her plate. "My sister walking my sister-in-law like a dog! You're weird, Blake."

"Weird, yeah," Blake was muttering while Winter replied to her texts.

Slip out the back and around the house, I'll excuse myself when I can

"Some people are into that," Neon spoke up with a small smirk. In fact, she looked toward not only Weiss who started the conversation, but also occasionally to the woman sat opposite her. The ever-silent Inu.

"For real? People get off on being treated like a dog?" But the more Yang commented on it, the shorter Inu seemed to become as she sank down in her seat, cheeks reddening. Contrary to what the three people at the table who had prior experience in the Clamp assumed, it seemed there was yet another who shared those sorts of interests among them!

But Winter would have to miss that conversation if it went on. She had just received another message:

I'll text Weiss just to tell her I'll be on the phone. Should buy us enough time. I'm headed to the car now, don't keep me waiting or I'll have to start without you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Feeling her heart speed up into her throat, Winter let out a long, beleaguered sigh. Then she texted back a simple “Ok, be there soon” before pushing her chair back, finally putting on the shoe she had dislodged to tease her poor sub.

"I am sorry, I have to take this after all; some business can't wait. Don't worry, I'll just nip out front and take care of it. Excuse me."

But Blake's amber eyes were focused entirely on Winter as she stood. "Well, have fun." It was said flippantly, as if she were being sarcastic, but they both knew she was serious.

"Hurry back!" Weiss bade her as she strode from the table and out the front door. "All this food isn't going to eat itself!"

Due to how much closer the front door was to the car than the back door, Winter actually made it outside first. Therefore, she spent the time slipping off her cardigan and draping it over one arm, strolling lazily toward Ruby's car. Her heart was pounding with excitement, but she didn't dare show it. Not when there was a slim chance someone might glance out the foyer window and spot her dancing like a giddy schoolgirl.

Before Ruby was in sight, the car could be heard unlocking as the lights flashed. Then came one more vibration from the phone.

Just getting my shoes. Get in, seats can be lowered and there's a blanket in the back, be two seconds ; )

Winter blinked down at the message, then pulled the door handle, sliding into the passenger's side. As she closed the door, she began to message back - because it had to be asked.

Where were your shoes before??

I took them off when I first came over. She always keeps the garden clean so I never bothered to put them back on!

But finally, Ruby was in sight walking around the building. She had managed to avoid the gaze of the other guests as she made her way to the car. But just before she got there, she sent one last teasing text.

Surprised you didn't notice actually ; )))))

Biting her lip, Winter wrapped her phone in her cardigan and put it in the back seat, then grabbed the blanket to pull over herself. She waited until the driver's side door opened before she spoke.

"I had other worries on my mind. But… now that you mention it, I do seem to remember spotting some cute little piggies dancing along the floor…"

Quickly shutting the door behind her and locking it, Ruby grinned just as giddily when she looked back to Winter. She could barely even contain herself as she lowered her seat, attempting to create a more comfortable area for their activities.

"I wasn't thinking about it! Not till you started teasing me with yours. You total asshole, by the way!"

"Just thought I'd pay you back," she said with a grin, sliding the blanket so that she could throw it over Ruby, as well. "A little. Not really make you too uncomfortable - at least, I hope I didn't."

"No, it didn't," she assured her. It wouldn’t do to wound their barely-established relationship with misunderstandings. Scootching slightly toward Winter, she shuffled off her own jacket, tossing it to one side. Then started to undo one or two buttons to give Winter more of a view. "Like I said… I'm just so pent up you were about to make me lose my cool. So I'd rather you do that here, in private."

Now that she had been reassured, it seemed Winter wasn't above more teasing. As she watched the buttons open, she muttered, "Didn't want to let on to your big sister that you were all hot and bothered? I can imagine…"

It was certainly helping the situation, making her growl with desire as she felt deep heat brewing between her legs. But that need was becoming more of a priority than any small talk. It had been too long; not only had she enjoyed no sexual contact with Penny since that time in the car, but she had felt no motivation to take care of her urges on her own. But now that they were back with a passion, all she could do was look her dead in the eye.

"Quit teasing me and make me scream already."

As Winter's smile slowly began to fade, she reached over and grasped Ruby, pulling her across the space to lay atop her. A shoe clattered to the floor while she ran her hands up and down her sides, over her hindquarters.

"Ruby, I missed you so fucking much," she growled needily, past the point of caring how it sounded. Her hands were already gouging into the backs of the girl's thighs, digging in as they worked their way closer to her centre.

Several shaky gasps fell from from the younger woman’s lips. Still wearing an elated smile, instinct was already starting to take over. No longer did she care about their sub or Dom roles; this time, it was a case of doing whatever each of them wanted, trusting their intuition. Already Ruby felt her hips pushing forward against Winter's needily, desperate to get anything she could of her and push back against those hands in addition. Her arms wrapped around Winter's shoulders, keeping her close as she pressed her forehead against hers.

"I missed you, too." A hand dived into her hair. "I'm so happy you're here."

"I know how we started," Winter began as one hand slid around Ruby's hip to begin hiking up her skirt, to rub against her through the thin material of her underwear. "But now it's so much more than just training you. I… I have thought about you every single day since the last time we saw each other!"

"Nhhh! God, I'm so glad I'm not the only one!" Already she was so warm – and all over! No doubt Winter would be able to feel just how wet she had been, it was soaking her undies already. Looking her dead in he eye, she whispered, "So what are you waiting for? Fuck me." And without hesitating any longer, she crashed her lips up against Winter's.

As she kissed back, harder than ever before, Winter wasted no time. Ordinarily, her hands would have been doing a thousand things, taunting flesh and ghosting up thighs. In this instance, she jerked the crotch of Ruby's soft cotton panties aside and began to rub up and down her dripping folds, fingers moving with practiced ease.

Finally, Ruby could do just as she wanted to in the presence of everyone in that room. And she didn't hold back, moaning contentedly into their kiss as she continued to thrust her hips forward into the slender fingers. Even if she was glad they could do as they wanted, Ruby was able to come up with one downside to their impromptu session: they didn't have an artillery of Winter's wonderful toys to use. If only they had somehow anticipated this reconciliation.

Not that she was complaining. Slender fingers would be able to bring her to just as satisfying a finish. She knew that deep down. And she was so desperate for it she couldn't hold back any of the needy thrusts.

Clearly, the girl was ready for more. Not wanting to be conspicuously gone any longer than they had to be, she plunged her middle finger straight into Ruby, curling in with great relish as her tongue began to do the same with the beautiful mouth atop her own.

"HMMMHH!"

What a loud and needy sound that fell into Winter's mouth. Yesss, that’s the spot right there, Ruby thought. She continued to push herself forward against Winter's hand while she worked at that sensitive spot inside, feeling the slender and thin finger buried inside her. But one wasn't enough. Oh no. To be truly satisfied, she needed more than that. Ruby’s hand dove down toward where Winter was working and tapping at one of her other fingers with hers lightly. Just enough to give an undoubtable hint.

But it seemed that even now, Winter couldn't be satisfied with doing this the usual way. Pausing their kiss, she panted, "You want another? Go ahead. Add another." As she said this, she switched from middle to index, pushing the rest of her hand as far out of Ruby's way as she could manage.

Trying to keep her volume down by habit, she looked down at Winter wide eyed. That wasn't something she had heard of before; born of them working together to push her to orgasm. But the way Winter was so casual about it excited her so much! It was worth a try. Holding her hand right beside Winter's, she pushed a finger inside, trusting Winter to follow.

She did, keeping pace with the entry. Of course, it wasn't quite so easy to pull off as only one of them using two fingers, but it turned out to be just doable. Having two hands in such an area forced Ruby's legs further apart, but she was young and flexible; it wasn't impossible.

"Oooh," Winter cooed as she felt a foreign digit sliding over her own, both of them buried deep in the waiting sex. "How does that feel?"

For some reason, this made Ruby shudder even more. It was one thing not to be fully in control, it was another to hand it completely over. But to share? How many times has Winter done this with others, she wondered… "S-so good…" she breathed needily, even pushing herself up against the hands right at her welcoming warmth, trying to welcome them further in.

"Yeah?" Panting heatedly, she began to move her finger at the same time as Ruby's - but she couldn't quite get the rhythm. That seemed to make her partner undulate and buck even more than she would have done under ordinary circumstances. "Mmm, you look like you're losing yourself in it… I hope it's in the best of ways."

"Nnhhhh, yeah, it d-definitely is," she assured her, holding still for a moment as she tried to sync herself up with Winter's hand. Each time it wasn't quite matched, she shuddered a little more, even squealed on top of things on occasion. She could feel her toes beginning to curl in her shoes already. Why didn't she get off inside? It would have made things more of a challenge, at least.

Winter's lips found their way to Ruby's neck as she felt her began to buck atop her, as she tried to curl at the same speed. She was also just able to get her thumb right up against her clit as she did so, hoping the slight friction from their movements would be enough to help send her into the stratosphere sooner rather than later.

Continuing to buck and twitch as her neck was kissed, the moaning was unfortunately increasing in volume. She couldn't help it one bit, it was such a strange sensation! At times when Winter would curl her finger, Ruby would in another direction, which made her feel her inner walls very slightly stretched out. That was more filling than anything. She could feel her heart beginning to race as she grasped Winter's shirt with her spare hand, and felt the few stray quivers that informed her it wouldn’t be long now.

"C-close… I-I'm close already! F-fuck! What are you doing to me?!"

"Let it happen! Oh God, Ruby - you sound so good!" Winter flexed her finger faster than ever, inwardly loving the feeling of Ruby's sliding over hers; it felt so foreign and new, added an intriguing dimension for her. Clearly, it was doing way more than for the smaller woman atop her. "Cum for me! Cum hard for me, Lady!"

God had she missed that petname. Finally, she was pushed over the edge. When Winter curled her finger one more time, and she did too, she felt them hit that sweet spot just right. That in addition to Winter's play with her clit, and she was done for. Shuddering on top of her, “Lady” moaned one more time as loud as she was able, feeling her inner walls clenching around the digits inside her. She felt her fluids getting out of control again, sprinkling Winter's leg and the seat very slightly.

But they had done it. In the car, at WEISS’S BIRTHDAY PARTY.

"Ohhh, wow," Winter breathed, gazing up at hey affectionately. "I wasn't thinking about your ejaculation problem. But… it's so hot…" Drawing away, she left a light kiss on her lips. "You'll never know how much I missed that these past few months."

For a moment, she just lay on top of Winter's front, gasping for breath and smiling with glee as she gradually came down from her high. That was something she missed for a long while. It felt like a relief to regain waht they had lost. But they were still on the clock. After a minute, she was pulling out her own and Winter's finger so she could descend. "Your turn."

"Oh… oh, that isn't necessary, Ruby," she told her earnestly as she watched the girl sink to the floorboard. "I just wanted to follow through on what I promised at the dinner table. You don't have to…"

But already Ruby was crammed into the footwell of the passenger seat. She still made sure the blanket was covering her up, but she began to brush her hands up and down Winter's thighs needily. While Ruby first needed to get off, she needed Winter as well. She needed to be the one to hear her moan again. Hitching up her skirt with each brush, she smirked.

"But I didn't get to eat yet."

While watching her down there, Winter couldn't help but sigh and smile gently at the face between her knees. After a beat, she whispered to her, "You're the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

"Hmm… Nope!" Without elaborating, she made sure to tuck the blanket over them both to keep the area covered. Anything else, Winter would just have to feel. And first thing was first, she would kiss the insides of her thighs, making her way upward toward her underwear rather quickly. While she knew Winter needed the teasing, they had a limited time-window.

And the elder woman didn't waste any time in allowing her eyes to close, to relax into the gentle motions. She was going to enjoy it, of course, but if she fought against the tiny ripples of pleasure, it would take much longer than if she rode them out.

Lady managed to nudge aside her panties with her nose again. She had a feeling it would be preferred by Winter to do so, as a gentle reminder of their play from before. One that, since Yang mentioned the dog story, was starting to make sense why she enjoyed! She at first delivered a single, small kiss before she opened her mouth wider against the folds, and went in for the kill.

If the kiss had made her sigh, the actions that followed made her moan. Winter's legs raised up to drape over Ruby's back as she opened herself up to more stimulation, more attentions from the ravenous tongue of her lover.

Lover… The title sounded accurate now. Justified. Even the strange things they had put each other through, the worries and the uncertainty, hadn't been enough to stop them from being together. All she wanted was to see that through, to become one with the only person she had ever cared about beyond friendship. To see where things led.

And right now, they were leading further and further toward Winter's finish. That tongue hadn't lost its talent, and lapped at Winter's sex readily and needily. In particular, she focused on the clit, kissing it on occasion over and over again. But she knew to add more. And a hint of that was coming as she parted the lips further with her fingers, the other hand still stroking her inner thigh.

"Ohhh, yes," Winter panted obscenely, pushing a hand into the side of Ruby's head as her back arched very slightly. "Ruby, please - more! It feels so good, I can't help it, I n-need…"

Ruby would absolutely deliver more. Keeping the lips apart, she finally gave her what she craved. Aware it would be awkward for Winter to join her down there, she entered her body with two fingers. In unison with her licking, she pumped in and out of her body with them. All the while she was smirking as she listened to the sound of her new lover.

Her other partner in addition to Penny. It was a dream come true.

The fingers instantly had Winter screaming, curling her stomach as her hungry sex tried to clamp down on them, hold them inside. It hadn't been as long for Winter since she orgasmed, but it being Ruby was enough to get her within a hair's breadth very quickly. Her lips stretched wide and her head fell back completely as she let the feeling wash over her, as a few more good thrusts sent her spinning off into an explosion of pleasure unlike any she had enjoyed in months.

Though it wasn't just the swift orgasm that ended their spontaneous session. It was a small, but sharp knock on the car window. One that made Ruby's head jerk up from under the blanket.

What she saw was a freckle-cheeked ginger smiling in at them. No one else was standing outside her car, luckily enough; only Penny, looking pleased as could be to see her girlfriend. She waved, being that the windows were up and it would probably be hard to hear her through them.

"Holy shit Penny!" Eyes snapping wide open, Ruby was quick to remove her fingers from Winter's body and pull her panties back into place. Even if Penny couldn't hear them, she still waved back, talking nervously. "U-Um… Hi! I… I meant to message you about this!"

"What?" Penny called back. "Hi!"

"Oh shit," Winter was whispering, blinking at the redhead. Even though she was clearly in a good mood, she still felt awkward that there had been no time to discuss things with Penny directly… before such an unfortunate moment!

"U-Um… Uh…" There wasn't any way to talk to Penny without yelling aimlessly in the car ,or finding her keys to start the engine and roll the window down. Even if it wasn't the most convenient of moments, she couldn't let things slide without saying a word. Resigning to it, Ruby opened the door very slightly, just enough so Penny could hear her talk. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for you to… to walk up and… U-Uh…"

But Penny simply flung the door wide, squatted down and embraced her girlfriend, even having to crane around Winter's leg the way she did. The genuine warmth and affection in the action told Ruby that she wasn't doing it merely for show; she had just missed her that much.

"I love my parents, but I love you, too," she breathed into Ruby's sweat-dampened hair. "So good to be back."

"W-Wha?!" More shocked than anything at first, Ruby looked at Winter with a look of confusion for a moment, until she finally embraced Penny right back, locking her arms around Penny's shoulders. Although about to grasp her, she held back with one of the hands. Penny would not appreciate that on her back!

"Awww, I missed you, too! I'm just so sorry I couldn't tackle hug you or something! This is… is awkward."

Once Ruby said that, her partner drew back with a slight pinkness in her cheeks. From experience, she knew it was more that Penny was embarrassed than that she was "turned on," of course. "Right. Well, I saw you while I was walking up to the house. Luckily, Taiyang and Qrow didn't notice, so I told them I wanted to get something my suitcase." At last, she spared Winter a bashful glance. "Hello."

"G-good to see you," she murmured, her own face redder than either of the other two.

"Still, I did want to talk to you." Drawing back from their embrace, Ruby looked toward the emerald eyes she adored so much. And then to Winter, as well. The two women she loved, both in the same place. And oddly without a single hitch. How lucky she truly was to have them both, even if it was an awkward circumstance.

"Penny, I'm sorry I’ve been such a sad sack the past few months," she told her, partially explaining for her and Winter's benefit, especially with the next line. "It was my fault for not trying to solve this sooner and letting myself mope. Honestly, I don't know how either of you put up with me sometimes…"

Both of them moved to hug her, but Winter held back when she noticed Penny was doing the same. The latter said, "Sorry, you can go first if you want."

"No, it's… Penny, I'm sorry we haven't spoken properly about this before now." Her eyes flicked toward Ruby and back. "This is an unusual situation, but not unheard of. But clearly we both care very much about Ruby. So… well, it's her decision in the end, but it seems only honest for me to ask you directly, as well. Are you sure you don’t mind? Since you and she had the pre-existing relationship."

"And please don't make a choice solely because of me," Ruby insisted, making sure Penny was looking at her while she said it. Stroking her arm gently, she went on, "Because I want you to be happy, too. I need you to be happy. I don't want you to agree with this but be hating every moment of it."

"But I'm fine." When Ruby only kept looking at her in concern, she sighed and petted her neck. "Okay… I was upset when you first told me you wanted to start going to the club and trying things with other people. But not with you. I… was more frustrated with myself for not being enough for you. For not being wired the way that most people are and not being able to give you everything."

"But you give me everything I need!" She quickly took her hand – and then in addition, took Winter's. She simply made sure Winter's was the hand they'd been doing things with, just so it didn't disturb Penny. "You both do! I don't need sex at the end of the day. It's just… fun! Like going for a walk, or to a convention, it's not a need, it's… almost a hobby! What I need is what you both give me. Love and care, and good times. And that's what I have from you both. And I love you both for it!"

After a moment, Penny smiled and told her in a gentle voice, "I know. I got over that frustration pretty quickly; it was an emotional knee-jerk response. You being happy is a lot more important, and once I realized that you would be, and it wouldn't 'cost' me anything, the rest was pretty easy to process."

"You really don't mind?" Winter asked her, voice steady despite her obvious fear. "One hundred percent sure?"

"Not at all. You have treated Ruby well; even in the story she told me about your argument, I could tell you were very distressed about what she had done and who she had done it in front of. She never said you hit her, or called her a bad person; you were just upset and trying to handle those new feelings. And other than that one incident, she has never had a bad thing to say about you."

"And I kinda blamed myself more, anyway…" Ruby began to sit upright, adjusting her position for ease of movement for Winter. "Anyway… I guess we better head back inside. They'll be wondering where we are."

"Not just yet," Penny said. "Winter, come here a moment."

Bewildered, the taller woman leaned down, taking the moment to right her seat as she did so. It was going to squeeze Ruby a bit, but she was small enough so that she could still easily extract herself. "Yes? Oh!"

"I love you," Penny told her gently as she embraced her. "I have never hated or resented you. What you can do for Ruby is very important because she's important to me. So I don't want you worrying about me; I know you're going to keep treating her well, so I have no reason to be worried, either."

Smiling gratefully, Ruby looked back and forth between both her girlfriends. This was all she could ask for; her two favourite people being okay with one another's company. It would certainly make things easier. Giggling to herself, she suggested, "Maybe one day we can all have a cuddle pile. We’ll need a bigger bed, of course."

"You're welcome to move in with me," Winter told them easily. "Either to all sleep in the same bed, or I could convert my office. But I'm sure you'd rather have your own apartment."

"That would be preferable to me. Not saying we couldn't sleep over at your place." Penny drew back from the hug so she could lay one of her hands on Ruby's shoulder, even as the other remained on Winter's back. "On evenings when you two don't want to have sex, of course; I wouldn't want you worrying about what I'm going to do with myself while you do."

"Well first we'll need to tell dad." Finally getting out from the small space, Ruby took the blanket to finally clean her hand, passing it over to Winter for her to do the same once Penny had let go. "He'll probably be all weepy that his kids have finally left, but he'll help us move."

"Very true." Then Penny beamed at her, cheeks bunching. "Ohh, I'm so happy - you look so much more like yourself than you have the past months!"

Penny threw both arms around her and went in for a big, affectionate kiss. She kissed back gratefully, allowing a moment to open her mouth a little wider to kiss deeper. "MMM!" She suddenly pulled back before Penny went too far, laughing nervously. "That… uh… that’s not a good idea right now. W-we just…"

But the ginger was already smacking her lips in vague confusion. "Oh… right, now I remember what you were doing before I knocked. Well… I guess that's my fault for forgetting, isn't it?" Her cheeks were getting rosier, but her smile was no less satisfied at their circumstances. "Um… I hope she doesn't mind."

"Me?" Winter asked, smiling herself now. Even though it was odd knowing her essence was on this more-or-less stranger’s tongue now, it wasn’t exactly the first time that had happened. "No, not at all! Why should I mind? I just- well, if you're asexual, I didn't… that wouldn't have been something I wanted to happen. But if you're not upset about it, why should I be?"

"You don't taste that different from Ruby, really. No need to be worried." Then she turned back to Ruby and made an even bigger show of kissing her right on the mouth. "It's who I'm kissing that's important, not where their mouth has been. Unless it’s on someone who has been sick, because I don’t want to catch their germs."

Blushing rather deeply, Ruby smiled back at Penny bashfully. She always was able to leave her a giddy mess, even if it was through flattery.

But worried that they really would be missed if they stayed any longer, she finally made an effort to unfold herself from the car, soon followed by Winter. Penny and Ruby headed inside first to avoid suspicion. At least this way, she had the excuse that she was waiting for her when she left to go to the bathroom. Then a few minutes later came Winter, who had “just finished her business”. Yang slid Penny her diet-specific food, along with a few sandwiches and snacks for Ruby and Winter before Qrow and Taiyang could stuff their faces.

"Goodness, Winter, that took forever," Weiss observed from where she was showing one of the women from Fènleng's daycare a photo album. "Business or pleasure?"

"A little of both," she hedged. "How's the party going? Did you get everything you wanted?"

"I did! Thank you for the music box, I didn't know they sold them with any of my songs."

At that, Winter had to smile. "They don't; it was a custom job." God bless Etsy. When Weiss broke away from the other woman to give her a hug, she laughed and hugged back. "Happy birthday."

Smiling contentedly at them, Ruby mostly stood by Penny or hung back by herself, with the main people she knew all busy talking to other party guests. Still, it was the happiest she had felt in months. As she watched her lovers spending time with friends and family, she relaxed back against the wall with her punch. Everything was copacetic.

Until a hand landed on her shoulder. "Hey there, Red."

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Ruby looked straight around to the source. "U-uncle Qrow! Sorry, I forgot you were coming!"

Her uncle laughed confidently, lowering his hand as he stood to one side of her, also leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, Yang sorta insisted. And I kinda needed the day out. It's nice to see the inside of somewhere other than the same old same-old."

"Yeah. I can imagine…" Unable to help it, Ruby was already growing nervous again. She hadn't even discussed anything with Qrow since finding out his living situation – and more. She was too afraid to in case it made things awkward, and lead to awkward questions. But that wasn't helping here at all when she realised she had nothing to say.

But Qrow beat her to it. "So, you and Snowbird sorted things out yet?" When Ruby blinked up in surprise at him, Qrow cut her off before she could speak. "Yeah, I know. Not only did she talk about it, but I saw a beady li’l eye watch me head to my room. You've never been the sneakiest of kids, Ruby."

"Great," the redhead muttered in embarrassment. While looking down at the floor instead however, she did add, "But yes… we talked it out. A-and… it went really well. Everything’s cool."

"Good to hear." Taking a sip of his drink, he sighed easily. Never was one to have ruffled feathers. "Maybe this means she'll be less gloomy. I mean, I tried to cheer her up, but there was only so much I could do."

"Please don't tell me how." Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to push the mental image of her other girlfriend with her uncle back out of her mind. Nobody needed that in their life. "I-I know it was selfish of me… to get mad over such a dumb reason. I think it's because you're more or less a second dad to me."

"You got that right," he laughed. "But, yeah, I wouldn't wanna imagine my pa doing anything with my girl, either. And I guess that's what first came to mind for ya." Though after a while, he cleared his throat, looking with a contented smile toward her. "I really am happy for you both, though. Winter's a special gal, anyone could tell you that. And I can't think of a better match for her than you."

"Qrow…" Against her will, she could feel her eyes beginning to well up. She had expected the conversation to be awkward with him, especially since he clearly enjoyed Winter's company as well. Managing to hold them back, she nodded. "Thank you… I just hope I can do right by her and Penny. Gonna be interesting figuring it all out."

"Kid, you get two birthdays and two Christmas presents now. But I guess that goes both ways." Giving a small pat on her shoulder, he smirked. "Say bye bye to your money."

"Ah, but Ruby is my sub," Winter muttered as she snuck up behind them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Typically, I'll be buying her the gifts. And Qrow has seen the one you gave me hanging up in my 'special' closet."

"The one I-" Although immediately her eyes opened wide when she realised what that was, Qrow could only laugh at her reaction. “You put that on your wall?! But it was just a doodle!”

He mussed her hair slightly. "Don't look so shocked! When I first saw it, I thought she had it done by a professional. Had no idea it was you, squirt!"

Smiling gently, Winter leaned a little closer to Ruby, but still spoke in a tone they could both hear. "All teasing aside, it’s one of my favourite things. You’re really talented and I hope you keep it up."

Then, so quickly that none of the other guests would spot it, she left a tiny kiss behind Ruby's ear. But of course one did, and rolled his eyes. "God, you two, get a room. I'm gonna hang out with Tai and Jacques, see how they're getting along. Grumpy Old Men sequel over there. Take it easy."

And finally he left them on their own. Probably for the best, seeing as the smaller sub's cheeks were glowing red with their typical embarrassment. A side effect of all the affection she would have to get used to. The moment Qrow was well out of earshot, along with the rest of the party, Winter changed the subject.

"You're mine again. We'll have to think of some new fun things to do with you. How about… next time I take you for a walk at the Clamp, we see about slipping a pair of vibrating panties under your suit? Wouldn't that be fun?"

The blush only intensified even more at that idea. The walk alone was enough to do that! "Maybe…" She swallowed nervously. "It'd certainly be… interesting."

"Maybe we'll both wear a pair." Another furtive glance, and she ghosted a hand over Ruby's hind end. "The car was a preview of… coming attractions. There's a lot more in your future."

And with even more of a red blush, Ruby was beginning to sink further and further down the wall in embarrassment. She would be quite a sight for the rest of the evening, but didn't wish for anything else.

"I hope I can get used to this again…"

"Get used to what?" Penny asked as she walked up to them, sliding her hands around Ruby's waist and kissing her gently on the cheek. The action pushed Ruby's behind into Winter's hand again, which squeezed it very slightly.

Lady couldn't wish for anything more under the stars than surviving the embrace and love of her two favourite women. But clearly, history had proven she wasn't afraid to try.

= End =

= Stay Tuned for White Noise: Sister Midnight =

#Lady Stardust #ruby x winter #rwby smut #rwbyremnants #rwby fanfiction #nsfw-Text

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

Text

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 9: Sokkla is painful for Zuko

On FF.net//On AO3

A beam of light fell upon the woman. It didn't seem out of place, yet that spotlight appeared to say she was… alone. She projected a massive shadow… so strong it might consume her completely. She glanced at the darkness that poured from inside her warily, fearfully, perhaps knowing it could overwhelm and consume her.

But then that bright light changed, shifting not in nature, but in form. And where her darkness touched him, his features became clear. Where his light touched her, she became real. And once their lips joined, it was as though all the darkness and light in the world had stopped battling, but instead had accepted their true meaning and duty: to work together, to be tied to one another for infinity, to shed light and cast shadows on equal measure, always at a perfect, matching rhythm…

Light and shadow that enabled the onlooker to finally understand what he was looking at… or rather, who he was looking at.

A loud gasp, a yelp, and then he sat up with a start. His chest was heaving, his heart racing, beads of sweat clinging to his body. What he'd just witnessed… it couldn't be. It seemed so unlikely, so uncanny, but he had seen it with his own eyes…

"What… what's wrong?"

The female voice beside him called for him, reaching for his bare arm. She always liked sleeping with the covers rolled down to her naked waist, for the Fire Nation's heat bothered her at nights. Surely by now, her violet eyes had opened as she sought to unravel whatever had startled him so badly… but in such a dark room, it was impossible to tell if she could see him yet.

"Hey…" she called again, cupping his cheek: he was still breathing loudly, heavily, and still refusing to talk. "A bad dream?"

"B-bad…? I guess it wasn't bad…" he admitted, swallowing hard.

"Then what is it?" she asked, sitting up fully beside him: she hugged him, her breasts pressing against his arm. He wanted nothing but to return to what they had been doing earlier that night, before falling asleep in each other's arms… but he couldn't. Not when he was so shaken up. "Come on, love… you can tell me anything."

"You might think I'm crazy," he said. "I… I don't know. You'll probably think I am, actually… d-don't worry, Suki, really…"

"How can I not worry when you wake up in the middle of the night like that?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, trailing up to his neck. "What is it? You can tell me…"

"Y-you're sure…?"

"Of course," Suki said, and he could nearly hear the smile in her very face. He released a breath slowly.

"W-well, I… saw two people, in my dream. Two people who were… well, connected! Drawn together, it was some strange metaphor on darkness and light? And I thought it was beautiful, but then I realized I knew who they were and… and that's when I woke up."

"Then… you knew those two people?" Suki asked, caressing his hair gently.

"Yeah. I did," he said, breathing out slowly. "And they… were kissing."

"Was it us?" she asked, amused.

"Uh… that's where you'll think I'm crazy."

"Uh-oh. Dreaming about another girl, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! Suki, it was… it was Azula and Sokka."

All her teasing behavior ended abruptly then, and she pulled away from him to no doubt give him the most skeptical stare of all time, even if imperceptible in the dark room.

"You… were dreaming about your sister kissing your best friend, Zuko?"

Zuko groaned and dropped on the bed again, and Suki just sat in place in the darkness, all her interest in soothing her lover's concerns with her body suddenly frozen cold: that wasn't at all what she had expected to hear.

"I don't usually think about my sister kissing people! I mean, objectively? The idea of anyone kissing my sister is gross," Zuko groaned, covering his face with his hands. "And I'm sure the idea of anyone kissing me makes her sick too, so we're even!"

"Well, I don't know. She never seemed to mind Mai much, did she?" Suki reasoned. "And she hasn't given us a hard time or said anything about finding us disgusting, her teasing is usually… not quite about that? So… I guess you're the weird one. Must be your dream was your subconscious mind, betraying that you need to stop being so childish and accept your sister can have relationships of her own. Right?"

"U-uh… huh," Zuko frowned, his hands slipping down his face as he pondered her words. "Then… I should accept this? I guess I am unfair, aren't I…? I've been with you for two years as it is, so… maybe you're right. Maybe… maybe that's what my dream was telling me. But maybe it was also telling me something else."

"Like… what?" Suki asked, blinking blankly.

"That… the one Azula should be with is Sokka," Zuko said. Suki's jaw dropped.

"Z-Zuko…? Is it really up to you to decide that?" she asked. "I mean, it's good if you're going to accept that your sister can have relationships without making a fuss about it, she's a grown-up now, after all, and she should make her own choices… but that's part of it too, you know? Maybe she'll choose someone other than Sokka…?"

"Well, why should she?" Zuko sat up again, casting his room's lantern aglow with a quick flick of his hand. Suki's confusion was apparent underneath the new light, more so when Zuko stared at her intensely. "See this? Light! That's what he will be, for her! And she has a darkness that he can temper with his light, while her darkness gives him shape and focus! So…! It's actually the best match of all time! Suki, you see it too, right?! Don't you?!"

"Zuko… it's literally three in the morning," she pointed out. He swallowed hard. "Don't you think all the Fire Lord pressures are getting to you…?"

"No! This is…! I'm absolutely serious here, Suki! I… I wouldn't have dreamt this for no reason," Zuko determined, with certainty. Suki sighed. "Visions are real! Aang would tell you so, too!"

"Sokka once told me Aang dreamt your father wouldn't fight him because Aang wasn't wearing any pants," Suki said, looking at Zuko skeptically. Zuko swallowed hard.

"Okay but that's not the kind of dream I meant…"

"The next time, he was going to give Aang a math test. And then? He was riding a flying hippocow while telling him he had slept in on the day of the invasion," Suki continued, with a sarcastic grin. Zuko's cheeks heated up more with every new retelling of Aang's dreams. "My point is, Zuko, sometimes… dreams are just dreams! And it's not up to you to decide what Sokka or Azula should do in their love lives, okay? They're their own people, they make their own decisions. Okay?"

"Fine…" Zuko pouted. Suki laughed and kissed his cheek.

"I do love it when you get passionate about things, but… you need perspective sometimes, sweetheart," she laughed, pulling him down on the mattress again and cuddling against him.

Yet Zuko's mind and heart couldn't seem to stop racing. Even as Suki embraced him, and he turned off the lantern with another flicker of his hand, he knew what he'd seen was no chance, no mere coincidence: his sister had a soulmate, and after all the mistakes he had made in their relationship so far, he refused to make another one now. He would help her find love… and then, hopefully, Azula would find the happiness she deserved. This was the right thing for a good older brother to do, and Suki would understand by the time his new venture bore the right fruit…

...

Breakfast wasn't a particularly formal occasion in the Fire Nation Palace ever since Zuko had taken the throne. People would come and go to the dining room at whatever time they could afford to, depending on what their duties required them to do. Of course, if you were too late, the food would likely be cold, or you could end up skipping breakfast altogether and wind up eating lunch instead… the cold part was never a problem for Zuko, as he could warm his own food if need be, and he made a point to join Suki whenever she had a late breakfast due to her shifts, in case she wanted a hotter meal than she'd gotten. It was funny sometimes, Zuko had to admit, that he'd made such a fuss when Iroh had warmed up his tea in Ba Sing Se… but nowadays he was doing the same thing with many meals, and for more people than just himself.

Suki wouldn't be joining him today – she'd had an early start that morning, eaten her own meal in a rush and headed out to patrol the Palace. And while people were likely to come and go through the morning, Zuko intended to take the day as easy as he could… namely so he could wait for two very important people to stop by at the dining room.

Sokka was the first to arrive, yawning loudly as he entered the room with his usual nonchalance. After being a lanky Water Tribe boy when they had been fighting together in the war, he had even surpassed Zuko in height, and sported muscular arms with which he could likely crush someone's neck if he tried. It was, perhaps, a dark thought to be had about his friend, Zuko had to admit, but it seemed to him Azula would definitely appreciate a lover as physically strong as Sokka had become across the last years.

"Oh, you're still here, Zuko? Thought you'd be lording over your subjects by now," Sokka said, taking his seat by an available breakfast set and smiling with mischievous glee. "Woah, looks like a feast today! So much breakfast meat!"

"Thought you'd appreciate that," Zuko said, smiling. "I wanted to switch up our menus a little? If that's alright by everyone. I suppose the only risk with giving you more meat during meals is that you'll decide you want to stay in the Fire Nation for good, right?"

"And what's so wrong with that?" Sokka retaliated, grinning. "You said I'm a pretty good ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, right?"

"You have been," Zuko nodded. "So consider this, uh… a gesture of appreciation?"

"You're weirdly generous all of sudden," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "Got to wonder if you have an ulterior motive, buddy…"

"W-what?! Why would I have an ulterior motive?!" Zuko exclaimed, unnecessarily loudly. Sokka inched away from the table, eyeing his friend warily.

"Umm… no reason?" he said, awkwardly. "I was just messing around?"

"Oh. Uh, sorry," Zuko smiled too. Sokka blinked blankly as he started eating, still glancing at Zuko with unease. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little on edge? It was a strange night…"

"Is that so…?" Sokka smiled awkwardly. Zuko flinched.

"I-I don't mean because of, well, Suki? Though… sorry. I know I shouldn't talk about this…"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about it, Zuko?" Sokka smiled. "It's been like… what, seven years since she and I called it quits? And it was a mutual decision too. I'm happy you two are happy together, though I do think you should make it official eventually, you know…?"

"You know it's not easy, not even for a Fire Lord," Zuko sighed, but Sokka's change of subject brought an idea to mind. "Though… I guess I shouldn't involve myself in your love life, but you haven't really been with anyone since Suki? Or have you?"

"Uh…" Sokka's eyes shifted at Zuko before returning to his meal. "Nope. No one."

"Don't you think, maybe… you should try dating someone?" Zuko asked, with an awkward smile. "It could be good for you…"

"Dating someone?" Sokka repeated, with a light grin. "Yeah, well… I'm not sure I need to date anyone right now, but thanks, Zuko. Though you really don't have to worry about my love life when yours is so complicated, pal."

"Mine's not complicated, what's complicated is being Fire Lord," Zuko sighed. "B-but anyways, Sokka…"

"Yeah, must suck being Fire Lord," Sokka nodded. "So much to think about, so many problems to solve, and even then, you're trying to help me. You're way too nice this morning, Zuko, but you probably shouldn't be? I'm fine as I am, buddy, I promise."

"But…"

His protests would go interrupted when a new arrival stepped across the dining room… or stumbled across it, actually. Both Sokka and Zuko glanced quickly towards the archway, and Sokka even jumped to his feet, upon glimpsing Azula clasping the wall as she awkwardly made her way to the table.

"Azula?!" Zuko exclaimed, staring at her in astonishment. Sokka had raised a hand as though to help her, but upon noticing his gesture, the Princess raised her own as though to stop him: instead, Sokka wound up sliding his fingers through his hair, eyeing her worriedly. "What… what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I… shouldn't have taken up Mai and Ty Lee's invitation for a night of drinks in town…" Azula explained, stepping closer to the table. "I don't even remember… half of what happened? Don't ever drink enough to black out if you can avoid it, Zuzu…"

"You need help…?" Sokka offered, and Azula smiled.

"Gallant, but no. I'll make it to the table on my own, thank you very much…" she said, supporting herself on the many chairs around the table until she finally found a seat before which still stood a full breakfast waiting to be eaten. "Ugh, I'm not quite hungry, but… I know I should eat."

Sokka only sat down again after Azula did the same safely, groaning still as she tried to ignore the lingering pain. Zuko eyed her warily, as she sat only one chair away from him, holding her head up with a hand.

"Was it… fun, at least?" Zuko asked, with a small voice.

"I wish I knew," Azula smiled. "Might be I met my heart's true desire last night and I just forgot completely."

"No way!" Zuko laughed off, and Azula raised her eyebrows at his reaction at first, until she frowned again over the headache. "I mean, you wouldn't forget something that important, would you?"

"You underestimate the amount of alcohol I drank," Azula said, bluntly. Sokka could only laugh across the table. "What's so funny to you, Upstanding Ambassador?"

"I'm just wondering if you're blocking it all because you did something embarrassing. Like… I don't know, danced on a pub's tables? Or sang the whole repertoire of one of the Ember Island Players' musical theater plays…?"

"Ugh! No way I did anything that stupid!" Azula said. "I… hope."

"Fine, fine," Sokka laughed. "Though, you know? I think I know of a hangover remedy. I can ask the kitchen staff to fix you one, if you need it."

"Hmm… if the food doesn't fix this, I'll appreciate that," Azula said. Sokka grinned.

"No prob!"

Such a simple, friendly exchange… and yet they weren't simply teasing each other: Azula was willing to accept Sokka's help. She seldom was ready to accept anyone's assistance, but while she had changed over the years, this was unexpected… in the best of ways.

Only, Zuko's excitement over the matter had to be quite obvious, for he suddenly realized Sokka was staring at him… judgmentally, it seemed. Zuko froze, swallowing hard before returning to his own meal. Oh, Sokka would think he was going mad, wouldn't he…? But he wasn't. He knew what he was doing, and he'd get it done: his sister would be happy, and no longer lonely, and Sokka himself would appreciate it greatly once Zuko's deed was done.

"Eh… I'll go get your order in already, just in case," Sokka told Azula, smiling awkwardly before rising from the table.

He shot Zuko another strange stare as he made his way to the kitchens, while Zuko tapped his food with his chopsticks as a scolded child might. But once Sokka was gone…

"You, uh, really think you might have met someone last night?" Zuko asked.

"Didn't you hear I don't remember anything?" Azula said. "And why are you taking so long finishing your food? Need someone else to fill in your shoes while you waste your valuable time in the dining room, Fire Lord?"

"I decided today would be a lighter day for me, that's all," Zuko said, raising his hands defensively. "And I'm just saying… I'd be fine with it if you do meet someone, Azula. If you ever find someone who makes you happy…"

"And how would that be any of your business…?" Azula asked, rubbing her brow before casting Zuko a quick glare from the corner of her eyes. "This better not mean you're planning to marry me off to some foolish noble you need to get along with…"

"No! Never! I'd never do something so awful to you!" Zuko exclaimed. Azula huffed.

"I should hope so. I've said I won't be a threat for your rule anymore, but if you try something like that, I absolutely won't keep my promise," she said, sipping her morning tea.

"That's not my point, I'm just saying…" Zuko said, gritting his teeth. "That I haven't been very supportive of you for years, so I thought I'd change that, if I could…"

"Pfft, I'm perfectly used to our rhythm and relationship as it is. I don't need a doting, protective older brother… and I don't need to date anyone either, if that's what you were about to say next," Azula smiled dryly. "You have enough to worry about as it is, Zuzu. I'll live my life, you live yours."

Zuko scowled, watching bitterly as Azula continued eating without a care in the world… and his outrage only increased further once Sokka returned, setting the hangover cure by her tea.

"Hmm, thought you'd be gone already, Zuko," Sokka said, eyeing Zuko's plates. "You're almost finished eating, right?"

"Right," Zuko huffed, shooting a quick glare at Azula. "Well? Won't you drink your hangover cure?"

"I… guess," Azula mumbled. "Thank you for bringing it, Sokka."

"Don't mention it," Sokka grinned, returning to his seat "Though… it tastes like hell. Just so you know."

"Ugh… fascinating," Azula said, bringing the drink to her lips and grimacing noticeably once she tasted it. "Oh, hell, are you trying to kill me, savage?!"

"Not at all! I tell you, it works!" Sokka laughed.

"It's disgusting!" Azula roared, setting it down again and focusing on the food instead.

Zuko huffed, eating quickly as he pondered the situation some more. Both Azula and Sokka were adamant that they didn't need a relationship, didn't need his meddling, and that he had much bigger problems to worry about. Well… maybe they were right, but his dream wasn't wrong, he was sure of it. And clearly, going by all their arguing, they were still completely unaware of the fact that they were a perfect match. Yet… Sokka's willingness to help Azula was a good starting sign. While Zuko guessed it'd take a long time before they finally saw things his way, maybe he should focus on the positives and not lose hope: Sokka wasn't in a relationship, neither was Azula, and as much as they bickered, they likely were fond of each other on some level… for Azula wouldn't even acknowledge his existence if she didn't like him at all. So, there was still hope, if just a sliver of it. He could do this. He absolutely could do this…

It took him a few hours to come up with a solid plan, one that would once again show Azula how reliable Sokka was. The first stage of the plan was to ask all servants and Kyoshi Warriors to stay clear off the roofed, open corridor that led to the communications tower in the Palace for about thirty minutes, around noon. Once that was done, he snuck there, picked up one of the wall's lanterns, and shattered its oil compartment: he dropped the damaged lamp on the floor, watching with approval as the liquid spread across the corridor, all the way to the corner that led to the tower. Perfect.

After that, he hid in nearby bushes, watching quietly, knowing they'd arrive sooner than later: Sokka always had the routine to ship off his mail, whether to Republic City or to the South Pole, at these hours. As for Azula, Zuko sent her a message with a servant, asking her to give him a hand by sending some documents he allegedly didn't have time to ship off to the outer islands himself. It was a childish plan, he supposed, but it was bound to work anyways…

Sokka appeared first, and Zuko smirked: the pool of oil had spread across an intersection of two corridors, and there was no way either of them would be able to cross the halls that led to the communications tower if they didn't walk by that very intersection. He had known Sokka would come from the one where he had dropped the lantern, and Azula was set to arrive through the other corridor any second now…

The acrid smell of the oil brought Sokka out of his ruminations and papers: he raised his head to find the shattered lantern, and the pool of oil, right before his eyes.

"Woah… that's a weird accident," he said out loud, before stepping carefully towards the pool of oil.

He appeared to want to pick up the lantern, perhaps to inspect if it was damaged beyond repair or if he might have a chance to patch it up. And then… footsteps. A new set of them, down the other hall. Zuko's smirk widened as he glimpsed his sister's silhouette: she was as focused on her papers as Sokka had been, but the lantern wasn't within her line of sight, and with any luck the scent wouldn't reach her until she was too close to slow down, and then…

Then Sokka would have to jump out, wrapping his arms around her, ensuring she wouldn't slip and fall on the floor. And once he rescued her from what could have been a terribly dangerous fall, Azula would finally understand just how reliable Sokka was… she would fall in love with him before she even knew it! It was perfect!

She was so close now, a couple more steps… Sokka was already reacting, his eyes wide as he realized those footsteps meant someone might slip and fall over the oil…

"STOP!"

Zuko froze. Azula did, too, with a start.

Sokka gritted his teeth as he traversed the oil pool carefully, ensuring to step on as little of it as possible, before glancing over the corner to discover the person he had just saved from a bad slip over the oil was none other than Azula. She raised her eyebrows questioningly once their eyes met, and he smiled awkwardly, running a hand over his hair, before pointing at the pool of oil at his feet.

"This lantern broke for some reason? There's oil all over the place," he said.

"Oh… I see," Azula took a step back, eyeing the zone of disaster with confusion. "No wonder I thought it smelled like oil. Can you call someone to clean this up? I was supposed to send some mail…"

"I'm supposed to send some too, but this mess could be dangerous for anyone who walks around here," Sokka admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I'll go send mine after you're done, I'll take care of this…"

"I can send yours for you, if you want," Azula suggested, stretching a hand towards Sokka. He blinked blankly before grinning.

"That'd be a lot of help! Thanks, Azula!" he said, handing her his letters by stretching over the pool of oil until Azula could take the documents in her hands. "I'll go get someone to clean up right away, then."

"No problem. Try to be quick about it," Azula said, making a point to avoid the oil… and restarting her way to the communications tower indeed.

Leaving a frustrated Zuko to fume within the bushes he'd been hiding in. Great. Just… great. The one time he didn't want them to communicate like rational people to resolve their problems was the one time they decided to do it. Leave it to those two to sabotage his every enterprise, whether consciously or not…

Oh, but he wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done. Azula and Sokka were in for a surprise or many, depending on how many of his plans they forced him to enact.

...

"You called, Zuko?" Sokka's voice drifted from the door of Zuko's office at sundown. Zuko turned with a bright grin, perhaps too bright, for Sokka gave him that awkward stare again. "Uh… Zuko? You okay, buddy?"

"I was hoping you'd come. I have… a favor to ask you," he said, beaming as he picked up a package that had been resting on his desk. Sokka raised his eyebrows, puzzled. "It's for Azula."

"For… Azula? You bought her a gift?" Sokka asked.

"Well… yeah, but I don't want her to know it's from me," Zuko said. "I want you to give it to her? But, remember, no telling her it's from me. I… am just trying to do what you always told me, you know? Make efforts to repair the burned bridges and whatever figures of speech you used…?"

"I guess I did say that, but… what's the point of buying her a gift and not telling her it's from you?" Sokka asked. "How's that going to help?"

"If I'm not eager to take credit, she'll think my efforts are more genuine," Zuko said, with his practiced response, the one he'd decided on giving Sokka as he pondered how this encounter would unfold. "I think you two are getting along pretty well lately, right? So…"

"Are we?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile. "I thought the incident with the hangover cure at breakfast yesterday would make her hate me forever? Is it your sister's fine with people who get her to drink things she hates?"

"No, but I meant…" Zuko started, but he held back: he couldn't reveal he had seen the lantern incident, the report he'd received about it merely stated Sokka had dealt with the matter, and Azula wasn't mentioned at all. As far as Sokka was concerned, he wouldn't have known they met at all, unless he had been there, too… "I meant you two could sit together and have breakfast anyway. It's good progress."

"Uh-huh…" Sokka said, skeptical again. Zuko snarled.

"Just give her the gift! And don't tell her I sent it!" he said, pushing the luxurious box into Sokka's arms.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Sokka sighed.

Zuko waited shortly before following Sokka across the Palace's corridors yet again. He moved stealthily, cautiously, hiding behind every statue that could conceal him, waiting patiently whenever Sokka got distracted, or whenever he glanced back, as though aware that someone was chasing after him. Finally, though, he reached Azula's room and knocked the door…

In a matter of five seconds or so, the door swung open. Zuko bit his thumb, watching them impatiently as Azula appeared to stare at Sokka with utmost confusion.

"Hey! Uh, someone sent you this," he said, simply, biting his lip. Zuko grimaced, hoping that'd be enough for Azula to mistake Sokka for being the one responsible for the gesture…

"Someone? What sort of prank is this?" Azula asked, skeptical, raising her hand to brush her bangs from her face elegantly.

"It's… hopefully, not a prank? To be honest, I should've checked the inside myself…" Sokka admitted, tugging the bindings of the box loose. Azula raised an eyebrow, watching him cautiously. "It's probably nothing that bad, but I can't be sure…"

"Are you unfamiliar with the sender? Took up a job delivering packages on the side? Here I thought being an ambassador paid well…"

"It does," Sokka smiled. "I'm just doing someone a favor, that's all…"

"Someone?" Azula repeated, skeptical.

Oh, it was working. It was absolutely working, she'd see the gift and assume it was Sokka's. Everything would go exactly as planned this time, Zuko was sure of it…!

"Alright… step back, in case there's some weird explosive?" Sokka smiled at Azula. She scoffed.

"I can control an explosion with my bending if need be. Just do it," she said. Sokka shrugged and obeyed.

He raised the lid of the gift's box only to find a silken dress with blue colors and white highlights. Azula raised an eyebrow, and Sokka's jaw dropped: it looked like a Water Tribe-themed dress, for sure. And the only Water Tribe person in the Palace, at the moment, was standing right next to Azula. Surely, all the suspicion would fall to him…

"Woah," Sokka said, scratching his head. "That's… fancy. Way fancier than any of my tribe's clothes…"

"Is that so?" Azula asked. Zuko nearly jumped in glee: she didn't believe him! She didn't! Had he succeeded this time, for sure…? "Well… to be honest, assuming you sent this would imply you have great taste in clothes, so…"

"Hey! I DO have great taste in clothes, mind you, and… wait, that sounds like you like it? A blue outfit, Princess? You're sure? People might start thinking you like my culture of savages, eh, eh?"

"No one would assume that, the color may be similar to your tribe's traditional colors, but the cut, and the design, are completely Fire Nation," Azula explained, unfolding the dress gently. "So, the question is… who has the means to commission a dress as fancy as this one, and request one of the most uncommon dye colors in the Fire Nation for it?"

"Eeeeh…" said Sokka, with an awkward smile.

"Not you, that's who," Azula said, sighing and shaking her head. "Whatever. Thank you for bringing it anyway."

"Not a problem," Sokka grinned, offering her a thumbs up after he handed the box to the Princess. "See you around!"

Azula nodded, and Sokka walked away. And Zuko was left crouching by the statue he'd been hiding behind, snarling yet again: why did it have to be so difficult? If he didn't know better, he'd assume they were making fun of him by playing dumb to this extent… ugh, it was infuriating.

But again, he wasn't done: something would work eventually. There was no way the two smartest people he knew would be this thickheaded and this resistant to the obvious, blatant, clear fact that they were MEANT for each other…

...

Another council meeting should be another opportunity to make the Fire Nation a better place, if Zuko was asked… but that's not how reality worked. Instead, it was merely another chance for his lords and military heads to continue antagonizing each other, constantly attempting to prove they were the most talented, the most loyal, the most impressive of his subjects. Getting anything done was, actually, as good as impossible.

Azula eyed him warily once the meeting was adjourned, waiting for him to climb off the throne, looking more drained than ever.

"Are they really getting to you that badly?" she asked. Zuko sighed and shrugged.

"I guess?" he said. "It's a drag. I thought we could make things better, you know? That a new era would begin with my rule, and it has, but… I could do so much more if I didn't have to go through so many protocols for even the smallest project."

"I suppose, but that's the way it works," Azula shrugged. "You need to learn how to slither through the cracks to achieve whatever you're setting out to do, Zuko. Most political challenges can't be handled through straightforward means, you understand…"

"I know, but it sucks," he groaned. "I… guess I just need to relax."

"What? Not getting it on enough with Suki lately?" Azula teased him. "Don't tell me you've already bored her…"

"N-no! That's not…! You shouldn't even ask that sort of stuff!" Zuko exclaimed, blushing. "Though… well, Suki's pretty busy most the time organizing patrols and working to keep the Palace safe. And ever since we got together, well…"

"You deliberately spend less time together in public so you won't alarm the wrong people about your relationship, I know," Azula recited, nodding. "You just want to see more of her, then?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not that unreasonable, I know it can't always happen," Zuko sighed. "When I said I needed to relax, I meant more like… the royal spa?"

"Ah… sure," Azula said, nodding. "I guess you could visit it more often."

"You go a lot, right?" Zuko said. "In the mornings? Or do you go in the evenings? I just want to make sure I don't go at the same time as you, could be awkward and all…"

"So considerate," Azula said, raising an eyebrow. "I tend to go at ten in the morning, and I stay for around an hour, if you really must know."

"Cool. I'll go at eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten…" Zuko started, stepping towards the throne room's archway. Azula scoffed as she watched him leave.

"Keep saying that, and you'll end up mixing up the times!" Azula growled.

"I wouldn't do that! It's not at ten, but at eleven!" Zuko said, nodding. "See? I got it! Totally got it!"

Azula's judgmental glare followed Zuko, he could tell… but he could also tell she wouldn't see the mischievous smirk on his face as he left the premises, knowing exactly where he'd go next.

Sokka was training with a sword in the palace grounds when Zuko came across him. He smiled and waved at the Fire Lord, who grinned innocently right back at him.

"Say, Sokka… have you been to the royal spa lately?" Zuko asked him, once Sokka lowered his sword.

"Oh, hello, Zuko! Nice to see you too!" Sokka teased him. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"I just haven't been going often lately, is all," he continued. Sokka huffed. "It's a little weird, getting into that habit, but I think it'll help. I haven't been feeling like myself lately…"

"Yeah… you're a bit off," Sokka admitted, smiling awkwardly. "I don't really use it much, myself, but why do you ask?"

"Just thought it might be a little less awkward if I go with someone I can chat with?" Zuko said, smiling weakly.

"Really? But you've never been all that talkative" Sokka chuckled: Zuko's stomach, of course, sank. "Oh well, I guess that's why you don't like the spa, because you have no one to talk with while the procedures are being done? I suppose I can help, then, but… why me and not Suki?"

"Suki is probably busy at the only hour of the day I can afford to do this" Zuko said "I'd much rather go with her too, you know? But what can I do…? Besides, the staff members might suspect, and then everyone will know…"

"Zuko, I'm pretty sure most people already know about you two," Sokka smirked. Zuko flinched.

"Well, but it isn't official! Just rumors!" he pouted. "And I'm not ready to go public yet, neither is she. So… you know, I'd rather keep suspicions to a minimum."

"Whatever you say, whatever you say…" Sokka sighed. "What time do you want me to be there, then?"

"At ten?" Zuko smiled, again with a hint of mischief he couldn't quite contain. And it grew stronger when Sokka merely nodded positively.

"Alright. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, let's see how it goes for one day, right?" Zuko said, casually. "Keep up the good work."

"Sure! Thanks!" Sokka grinned.

Oh, at this point he'd do better not to have high hopes, but he crossed his fingers and begged the universe inwardly to allow this one to bear some kind of fruit. If only they stopped resisting so much, damn it all… this was for their own good! It was worse than trying to get a toddler to swallow medicine, really…

On the next morning, his hiding place was the outside the Palace building itself: he stood in the gardens, surveilling the spa from a large window that allowed a perfect view of the spa's doors. He stood in place, ten minutes in advance, waiting patiently, clad in an inconspicuous black robe with a hood that should conceal his identity and hide him in a shroud of darkness, even if his sister or friend noticed he was around… he bit his lip, waiting still, knowing they'd both arrive eventually – Azula hated being late to any appointments, and Sokka wasn't the type to reject any chances to laze around and be pampered.

If all went well, they'd enter the spa together. Perhaps they'd bond… perhaps they'd do more than that, an idea that, despite Zuko's resolve to accept his sister's love life was none of his concern, was slightly unnerving to consider. All things considered, though, the two of them were too smart, and fully aware of how dangerous it could be to take a relationship too far while unprepared. They knew self-restraint, of course they did. They would, at most, go as far as to kiss… and then they'd decide on how to progress with their relationship in a responsible manner, until they eventually chose to marry, and by the time the wedding happened, everyone would be laughing as they shared the story of how their relationship began because Zuko, oh, silly Zuko, had given Sokka the wrong time for a spa visit, and Sokka had attended it with Azula instead…

Busy imagining such a joyous occasion, Zuko was snapped out of his daydream suddenly when a shadow crossed his line of sight: he shrank instinctively, but then glanced through the window once more… it was Azula. Good. If she went in now, Sokka would follow, neither knowing the other was inside, and then…!

Azula had reached for the doorknob but stopped cold suddenly… glancing at her left. Zuko grimaced. That couldn't be good.

With difficulty, he pushed the window open lightly, just enough to hear any conversations within that hallway, not enough to make noticeable noise, while watching as Azula toyed with a strand of her hair…

"… You're here? Why?"

"Uh… because Zuko told me he wanted to meet up with me for a visit to the spa? He told me to come at ten…"

"Ugh, the Dum-Dum mixed up the time, exactly what I told him he'd do! I warned him if he kept being foolish he'd end up coming here at the same time I did and… ugh, what would you do if you had a brother as forgetful as mine, Sokka?"

"Probably take advantage of that forgetfulness and prank him until he lost his mind?"

"That… isn't half bad an idea, actually. Good thinking."

"Anyway, I'm thinking Zuko just told me ten but meant eleven? You can go ahead, I'll wait for him out here."

"Thank you. Whenever he shows up, please kick him in the shin for me."

"Sure thing!"

Zuko huffed: this was impossible. They were impossible! What the hell was that?! They'd just respectfully chosen to go separately to the spa?! What was wrong with them?!

Oh, it was the last straw. He couldn't take it anymore. He was too young for all this stress, his hair would turn white, his heart was going to fail him… he couldn't stand it. He felt humiliated, despite no one had mocked him directly, but it seriously appeared as though those two knew exactly what they were doing to him. And he was definitely not amused.

"Screw it. Screw them, this is just…!" he rambled, shutting the window quietly again as he snarled. "They don't deserve each other! That's the truth! They want to die alone, fine, they can just go ahead and do that! I'm tired of trying to do right by anyone, it's a complete waste of…!"

"Zuko?"

He nearly screamed upon hearing someone addressing him directly. He didn't manage to hold back a light yelp, and a jump… as he turned to look at Suki. Who stood behind him, her Kyoshi Warrior uniform as impeccable as ever, her unyielding scowl judging Zuko as harshly as could be.

"U-uh, I… I can explain," he said.

"Right! You certainly should explain why you're sneaking around your own palace, dressed in a black hood as though you were a criminal, breaking into the place!" Suki smiled sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest. "For a minute there I seriously thought I should fling my katana at you. Be grateful I reconsidered and decided to figure out who you were, first."

"Sorry! I didn't meant to… ugh, Suki, it's just…" Zuko said, tense. "You know what it is."

"Uh, no, I certainly don't," she said, dryly.

"Well, you were there! You know, when I had that dream?" Zuko said. Suki's face was a mask of confusion until realization sank in. "Y-you know, the one about…?"

"About Sokka and Azula?" Suki finished, and her confusion was only further enhanced… while paired with not a moderate amount of outrage. "Zuko… have you lost your mind?!"

"I… hey! I'm fine, I'm not crazy, I'm just…!"

"Tell me, right now, that you didn't spend the last three days being so scarce, so distracted, disregarding your duties, simply because you were coming up with every strategy you could think of to matchmake those two without their awareness."

Zuko opened his mouth, and then closed it. Suki released a breath, covering her face with her hands as Zuko started chortling awkwardly.

"I-it's not that bad, is it?! I mean…! They get along enough that if they just give each other a chance, they'll see…!"

"Zuko: it's THEIR lives!" Suki exclaimed, stepping up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "You can't just try to manipulate people into doing whatever you want them to! That's not you, that never was you! For crying out loud, Zuko, just… be reasonable, can you? Whatever you saw in your dream doesn't give you the right to interfere in two people's lives this way!"

"But I'm not doing it to hurt them!" Zuko exclaimed, acutely aware that he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum. "Look, I just…! I want Sokka and Azula to be happy the way I am with you! I never imagined I'd care this much, but it turns out I do! And I know I sound and look like I'm losing my mind, but I just really think this could make their lives so much better! My sister has been through so much, Sokka appears to have outright given up on love because it never works for him… isn't it a good idea to help them regain hope through each other?"

"It's not a bad idea, no. But it's not up to you to decide this, Zuko," Suki sighed, taking his face in her hands. "And all this sneaking around… it's not going to help."

"I know. I know…" Zuko sighed, lowering his gaze.

Yes, the sneaking around probably was only hurting his cause further. But maybe that was the extent of the problem… maybe he just had to stop beating around the bush, and tell the pair of fools the truth, blunt and honest. If he did, surely they'd understand… hopefully, they'd test the waters of a relationship together, and that was all he really needed and wanted from them. Everything else was secondary.

"You need something else to focus on other than work, I bet," Suki sighed. "And that's why you're so hung up on this. We'll find you another hobby, Zuko, a less troublesome one than matchmaking…"

"Fine, but… I'll tell them both the truth," Zuko said, startling Suki.

"You'll… what?"

"Tell them, outright. I know they'll be the ones to decide what to do, I get it, they might say I'm crazy and that they never want to be with each other…" Zuko sighed. "But even then, I think I should tell them what I think, let them know I'm okay with it… if that makes sense."

"Well, I suppose it is better than sneaking around," Suki sighed, shaking her head. "You be careful though, Zuko. Make it clear you're not forcing anything on them, and that you just want to help. And if they reject that help, you'll put this aside, and go on with your life. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," he said. Suki sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"I know you mean no harm. I hope they'll know it too. Just… you're too good for your own good sometimes, Zuko," Suki said, caressing his cheek. Zuko sighed, wrapping his arms around her body and dropping his head on her shoulder. "Though… well, I know I started it, but we probably shouldn't be doing this in broad daylight, should we…?"

"Meh," Zuko said, tightening his hold around her. "Just a little longer…"

She helped him ground himself, that was a certainty. With Suki's comforting presence he could come back to his senses, perhaps, and understand he'd gone too far… and that he needed to stay in his lane from now on. It was the best thing to do, the best way to proceed…

But first, he'd tell them the truth. And he knew the chance to do so would arrive within an hour.

...

"Ah, if it isn't the fancy Fire Lord, the guy who gives me the wrong time for our big spa visit!" Sokka announced, as Zuko entered the spa's corridor, five minutes before Azula's hour was up. "I nearly went in there with Azula instead, you know? She's still inside, but I think we can go after she's…"

"Sokka. We need to talk."

Sokka blinked blankly, his hand still gesturing at the spa's door. Those words were quite ominous, Zuko supposed, but perhaps if Sokka expected something too awful, he'd be much more receptive to the idea of being set up with Azula for a date, at the very least…

"What, exactly, do we need to talk about?" Sokka asked, with a slowly widening awkward grin. "I mean, you said you wanted someone to talk with while you were in the spa, but I didn't think you needed to talk while we're outside it, too…"

"Enough rambling," Zuko said, dismissively. Sokka pouted, hands on his hips. "I have something serious to talk to you about, Sokka. At least, it means a lot to me, and I hope it'll mean something to you too, once I'm done."

"Well, you're not being ominous at all," Sokka said, rolling his eyes. "Is this why you've been acting so weird lately?"

"Yeah. You could say that," Zuko admitted, breathing in. "Look, you… you're one of my best friends. And while I guess you could be satisfied with life as you are living it now, I also think there's a chance you're not satisfied at all, and you just don't want to burden the rest of us with the truth…"

"Uh… I'm not? I mean, thanks for the concern, Zuko, but I'm actually fine…?" Sokka said, eyeing his friend warily.

"Look, I'll just… come out and say it," Zuko said, breathing deeply. "I… had a vision. You were in it. With… someone."

"With someone?" Sokka repeated. "What kind of vision? Are you getting spirit-y visions these days too, kind of like Aang used to? Or is this sort of thing common for you…?"

"I don't know, I don't know, maybe I'm just losing it, maybe dreams are just meant to be dreams but this one spoke so clearly about things that I…! That I never even thought about," Zuko said, looking at Sokka almost pleadingly. "And I think it opened my eyes to the truth that… that there's someone out there who might just be everything you'd needed, Sokka. And if that's how it is, then I… I want to encourage you to go for it, I give you my… my blessing? As weird as it sounds."

"Dude… what the hell is going on here?" Sokka asked, inching away from Zuko warily. "You said you'd come out and say it, well, nothing you've said so far makes sense. Are you telling me I should date, or heck, even MARRY, someone… just because you saw them with me in a vision?"

"Well… yes!" Zuko exclaimed, with full conviction. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"And… who, exactly, are you talking about?" he said, allowing himself a weak, sarcastic smile as he waited for Zuko's answer "Who's this person I should be with?"

Zuko breathed deeply, wishing he weren't so nervous upon uttering those syllables… but he was strong enough to do it. He hadn't come this far in life by being a coward: he'd absolutely do it.

"I'm talking about… about Azula," Zuko finished.

Sokka froze, his eyes widening in amusing, slow motion. It was as though realization was dawning on him, regarding each and every one of Zuko's actions as of late, and Zuko felt like a fool, but he didn't care. No, if this meant his sister would find peace and happiness, he'd endure whatever Sokka dared throw at –…

Sokka covered his mouth with a hand, and snorted. Zuko's eyebrow twitched.

"Did you just…?"

Another hand, and another chortle. Zuko's outrage was on the rise.

"Sokka?! Are you… are you LAUGHING?!"

There was no containing the Water Tribesman anymore: he dropped his hands and laughed so hard the entire Palace was likely hearing him. He doubled over, hugging his stomach, tears springing in the corners of his eyes…

"Y-you just said…!" he managed to utter, with a threat of a voice before he was overtaken with laughter again. "Oh…! Oh, no, I'm not gonna…! I can't…! I'm… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

With a strange posture, with his legs awkwardly twisted together, Sokka started jumping away, no doubt suggesting the laughter was strong enough to trigger certain, impulsive, bodily reactions that excessive amusement could sometimes result in. Zuko watched him shrink in the corridor, listening to the ongoing laughs, and shaking his head in outrage.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! I TAKE IT BACK! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS! YOU DON'T DESERVE HER! SCREW YOU, SOKKA!" he shouted, impulsively, angry enough that fire danced in his tight fists. Oh, how dared he laugh…? And laugh that loudly, too! Curses, he hoped to get a similar dream soon, of Azula with just about ANYONE else, and then he'd set up those two instead, and Sokka would learn, the bastard…

"And what the hell is the matter with you?"

Zuko froze: he had forgotten, completely, that he was standing at the spa's entrance… and that his sister was merely five minutes away from stepping out of it. Perhaps his outburst had even compelled her to leave sooner, and while her hair was shiny and her skin was bright and clear, her countenance betrayed she was most displeased by Zuko's loud shouting. Zuko swallowed hard, turning towards his sister apologetically.

"I… I'm sorry. Oh, hell, I really am sorry," Zuko growled, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Azula crooked an eyebrow.

"You're sorry…? Is this a multipurpose apology?" she asked. Zuko flinched and stared at her in chagrin.

"Why would it be a…?"

"Well, you see, I'm still waiting for a lot of apologies from you," Azula confessed, raising her eyebrows. "All the times you tattled on me as children, that time you ate my dessert and claimed it wasn't you, that time you locked me in an asylum, too…"

"H-hey, that's not…! No! I am apologizing for a specific thing here!"

"Ah! Then you truly aren't sorry for any of those things, to this day? Shame on you, Zuzu," Azula said, shaking her head dismissively. Zuko growled.

"I'm sorry because I was doing something I hoped would help you in the long run, but clearly I was wrong!" Zuko huffed. "That bastard… laughing like that? Who the hell told him he had any right to laugh at this?! I actually had to wrap my head around this idea, and to put aside my natural older-brother instincts of disgust at the thought of my sister with anyone, and he just LAUGHS?!"

"Uh… what did you just say?" Azula said, with an awkward smile… not too different from Sokka's own, earlier. "You wrapped your head around the idea that… I could be with someone?"

"I did!" Zuko exclaimed. "And then he just… threw it back in my face! Like an idiot!"

"He? Who's… he? The person you're trying to set me up with?" Azula asked, and her discomfort only seemed to increase. "Or is it just someone you were sharing your marvelous ideas with…?"

"Well… both," Zuko admitted, almost pouting now. "But I'm sorry. He's not worthy of you. Someone who hears about this and laughs like that is just… Ack! I should kick him out of the palace in your behalf…"

"I still have no idea who you're talking about," Azula reminded him. Zuko breathed deeply and huffed to release the air, averting his gaze from Azula's own:

"It's Sokka."

Azula fell silent. Zuko glanced at her quickly, wondering if she'd be disheartened, disappointed that that fool would be so dismissive of her potential as his love inte–…

She covered her mouth with both hands, and snorted.

"What…? WHAT?!" Zuko shouted, and just as before, Azula nearly lost her balance as she was overtaken by the strongest laughter spree he had ever heard from her. "OH, YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU TWO ASSHOLES, I'M DONE! I'M DONE! SUKI WAS RIGHT, I SHOULD'VE NEVER TRIED TO HELP! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HIM! I'M SO DONE WITH THIS! I'M NOT GETTING INVOLVED WITH YOUR PERSONAL LIFE EVER AGAIN, AZULA!"

He stormed off… and her laughter only seemed more intense as he left. Oh, he was seething. He was absolutely seething: what on earth was so funny?! What was wrong with those two?! He couldn't stand it. He had done his best by them, and they had laughed and thrown all his efforts in his face… how could they do this to him? He had been nothing but kind to Sokka, especially after he broke up with Suki, and even more so once Zuko was drawn to her, years later… he had been as generous with Azula as he could be, learning to be more patient, to offer her more opportunities to help run things in the Fire Nation, to find a purpose…!

And yet the pair of bastards had just laughed at him and all his efforts. The worst part was that their damn reactions had been as good as copies of each other: they were, in the end, completely perfect for one another. There was no sense in feeling bad for Azula, not when she had thought the idea of being with Sokka was just as laughable as, apparently, Sokka thought being with her was. So, they truly were as bad as the other… they truly were. It should further confirm they were perfect soulmates! But no, they'd rather just forsake all their chances at finding love… and truthfully? He was done caring. He was absolutely done. They could do whatever they wanted. He wouldn't even THINK about this nonsense anymore…

Or so he intended to convince himself of, but by nighttime, he laid in bed, arms crossed over his chest, still fuming as he went over the morning's events in his head. Suki sighed as she slipped into bed, reaching to massage Zuko's chest gently.

"You do realize you're as good as self-destructing over this, while those two are completely unaffected by what happened?" Suki asked. Zuko huffed and shook his head.

"They'll be affected enough when they die alone. Pair of idiots," he said. "So much for trying to be a good brother for Azula… or a good friend for Sokka. Is it too much to ask that they'd just take the possibility seriously? And I mean, even if they hate the idea, they could just… respectfully say "No, Zuko, I don't think it's a good idea", and that's it! Problem solved! But noooo, they just laughed like the mere image of them together was the most hilarious joke in the history of the world…!"

"I don't really know why they'd laugh that much, Zuko, but dear… I mean it. You need to stop thinking about this," Suki said, cupping his face, her fingers gently touching his scar. "We're all adults here, there's no reason why any of us ought to make choices for anyone else. I'm sorry they were so stupidly rude but…"

"Ugh. It's their loss," Zuko growled, wrapping his arms around his lover and pressing his face to her shoulder. "I just wanted to help, but…"

"Not everyone wants help," Suki reminded him, caressing his hair. "But you do want some, right?"

"What do you mean…?" Zuko mumbled quietly, glancing up at Suki to find her smiling slyly at him.

"I think I have an idea or two on what to do to get this nonsense off your mind…" she whispered, leaning closer, her hand sliding lower than his chest…

And she was right about that idea, for sure: Zuko smiled for what felt like the first time in the entire week, taking her into his arms…

...

Sweat trailed between the heated bodies that swayed, thrusted, shifted together. Their rhythm only accelerated, despite her body was already weakened by a previous release… but her lover was not only generous, but resilient. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, thrusting harder as he leaned over her, nibbling on her neck, kissing her cheek whenever he eased up, embracing her from behind while relentlessly driving and plowing forward. She held herself upright with difficulty, her elbows trembling, same as her spread legs…

"I'm close… I'm close…!"

"Come for me, then… Just for me…"

Words spoken with a throaty growl sent her very soul reeling: the hand that had been fondling one of her breasts now snuck lower, finding her clit and prodding it mercilessly: cries of blissful desperation tumbled from her lips, and there was no holding on, no endurance that could withstand the rushing onslaught of pleasure. And yet she knew he wasn't done: no, he didn't like finishing this way. She shuddered and nearly collapsed, but he held her closely anyway, groaning as her walls squeezed him delightfully.

"That's it… that's my girl…"

Anyone else saying those words would have been outrageous, but not him. He tore down all her defenses, all her dignity and decorum, and she damn near thanked him for it: it was blissful to let go of all pretenses, to bare herself fully to someone, for she knew he was doing the same with her, too. As soon as this had started between them, the whole world had started taking a different shape… as though they were seeing it with clear eyes, for the very first time. As though each of their matching heartbeats resounded together, dismissing every hint of fog that sought to hinder their hearts until they had found their true selves upon finding each other…

He withdrew, but not completely: only enough to turn her around, so she could lie upon his bed's many disorderly sheets, cushions and pillows. She looked luxuriously beautiful amidst them all, her hair an unkempt mess that guaranteed she'd need another royal hair-combing on the next morning, as it ever did…

"Azula…" he whispered, setting her down carefully: only his tip lingered inside her, as his face hovered inches from her own.

Her weak arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a long kiss, in which they exchanged long, throaty groans, and their tongues caressed and toyed together as much as they pleased. Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, forcing him to enter her fully again… this time, facing her. He'd definitely finish now, the way he always liked to.

"Make love to me, Sokka…" Azula said, her voice weak between so many heartfelt kisses. "I'm yours… I'm yours…"

He groaned in response and thrusted: she whimpered and moaned, and he thrusted again and again, regaining his lost rhythm in her, following suit with her rolling hips. They joined their bodies powerfully, delighted by the synched thrills that coursed under their skin…

So powerful he was, so strong with that physique worthy of a god, that he knew exactly how to hold back, how to last longer, as long as he could until she came undone around him at least one more time… and she was close to doing so, so overcome by pleasure she couldn't help but show him her most honest façade, with no lies, no deceit, no masks to hide away who she truly was… or what he truly meant for her.

Just so, he showed her his deepest self, the devoted protector, the man who only thought of others ahead of himself. The one who couldn't ever seem to think of his own pleasure, for he was that set on providing as much of it as he could to her. So many underestimated him, failing to see just how strong, how soulful he could be… but not her. She knew him, saw him for who he was, and loved him just as much as he loved her.

And so every kiss they shared was a blissful height, just as every chance to link their bodies, every caress they exchanged, brought their hearts further together, blending the limits and boundaries that existed between them, as though they were becoming but one soul, one being…

His release was impending: he let her catch her breath for mere seconds before trapping her lips again, thrusting as frantically as she did, both their bodies as good as melting together once a resounding, potent climax tore through their systems, nearly powerful enough to break their kiss… only nearly. He held on, wanting to feel her, every inch of her, and she clung to him just as well, her nails raking his back, her pelvis meeting his own with the power of their desperate thrusts.

They didn't slow down their kisses, not even when their rolling hips finally eased to a halt. Their exciting bliss lingered, as good as blinding them to anything else in the world… to the mess they'd made of the fancy bed – the servants had given both of them the stink-eye for that often, as they switched between meeting in his or her room. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the evidence of their transgressions was too obvious for the maids' eyes: they knew what the two of them they were doing… and even then, they had kept their silence, fortunately.

Or, at least, they had thought it was a fortunate thing until today. Perhaps the events of that morning had a hand in the wild tryst they'd just indulged in… but even now, a sudden burst of laughter crossed Azula's face, and Sokka didn't even need to ask what was so funny: he simply joined her too, kissing her brow softly as he indulged in the beautiful, blissful sound of her voice.

"I… I can't believe we were hiding all along… thinking he'd make such a fuss if he knew, and instead…" Azula started, before a strong spree of laughter overtook her anew.

"It's not entirely his fault that he was so clueless. You just made a very convincing hungover Princess that other morning, who would've thought you could barely walk for a much more exciting reason…?" Sokka teased her, kissing her deeply, taking advantage of her ongoing laughter to taste her smiles fully, and respond to them with his own. "I'm sorry you had to drink that mess of a hangover cure unnecessarily, though. I really thought he'd have left before I returned with it…"

"Well, you owe me seven more rounds of this before I can forgive you for that," Azula declared, haughtily. Sokka snorted.

"I thought we had agreed the fee for my terrible crime was ten orgasms, not ten rounds…" he said, nibbling on her lower lip. Azula snickered.

"Absolutely not. Ten rounds, full rounds. No half-assing it, my handsome stud," she said, slapping his asscheek lightly, and yet the spanking sound seemed to resound across his room.

Sokka laughed, kissing her again, repeatedly, a thousand times if he could. Oh, he'd give her ten rounds… and then ten more. And then a million, and even more than that… his ever-growing love for her overwhelmed him, and he was decidedly addicted to showing how much he cherished her physically. If only he could stay in bed with her for a whole week… no, even that wouldn't be enough. For a lifetime, at best… and even then, he'd want her again, on the next one, and on the next. Their very souls were bonded together, and that was how he wanted them to remain, for good…

"It's just so funny because… the maids always know," Azula interrupted his spree of kisses and train of thought, dragging her hands lavishly over his back.

"Most of the servants figured us out forever ago," Sokka confirmed, laughing. "And Toph… she knows too. I told you she started messing with me by mentioning you suggestively ever since that day at Air Temple Island…"

"Heh. And somehow your sister still hasn't unraveled the truth," Azula smirked. "I bet Toph outright told her about us and she decided it was impossible."

"Yeah, sounds like both of them," Sokka acknowledged, grinning. "But apparently our code worked perfectly, right? The hair thing… seems Zuko never even noticed it's our special warning for every suspicious situation, right?"

"He'd never be sharp enough to understand our superior intellects, are you really surprised?" Azula smirked, still basking in the sensual strength of his muscular back. "The question is, though… how, exactly, are we going to break this to Zuko now…?"

"Yeah, well…" Sokka said, chortling again, laughing as he pressed his brow to hers. "I seriously thought he'd want to kill me. I never imagined he'd… say he'd even give us his blessing?"

"He told you that?" Azula laughed. Sokka smiled and shrugged.

"Your brother's a bit silly, but I guess he does mean well. And… your question still stands," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "How will we tell him we've been going at it like rabaroos for about…"

"Five years?" Azula finished, closing her eyes with a proud smile. Sokka snorted and laughed against her chest. "I don't know how he never suspected it, frankly. You literally congratulated him and Suki, didn't even look like it bothered you at all once they told us…"

"Yeah…" Sokka smiled. "Because it didn't. As soon as I got close to you, I knew where I belonged. And it's right here, with you."

"Hmm, not necessarily here," Azula teased him. "You were looking into whatever excuse you could to spend time in the Fire Nation once we got started… and when Zuko asked me to be his representative in Republic City, you just happened to move there too. And now, oh, how shocking, you became ambassador for the Water Tribe in the Fire Nation exactly a week after I was brought back home… so, well, it can be anywhere, as long as we're together."

"Exactly," Sokka grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her upper breast. "You're my home. I'll chase after you wherever you may go."

"Sounds good to me, because you're mine too," she whispered, slipping her fingers through his smooth, loose hair. "Though that still doesn't answer how we'll ever tell him the truth."

"Hmm. How about we tell him we thought things over and realized he was right, and…"

"And let him believe he set us up successfully? Oh, but that's too considerate towards him…" Azula smirked. Sokka laughed against her chest again, shaking his head. "No, no, no. Letting him think he discovered we're soulmates when we first realized and acted upon it five years ago is just no fun."

"I guess," Sokka chuckled. "He was just so outraged…"

"Well, if he wants us together so badly, he should be thrilled once he finds out that we are," Azula smiled. Sokka grinned mischievously at her. "Regardless of how he finds out. Or what we say to explain…"

"We should just upfront announce our wedding," Sokka decided. Azula snorted and laughed yet again. "Oh, you think it's funny? C'mon, don't play coy now, you said you'd marry me…"

"I'm just imagining his face if we show up at breakfast tomorrow and blatantly announce we're engaged," Azula laughed, tightening her embrace around her also-laughing lover. "Though it's probably not a great idea, he'll assume we're making fun of him again…"

"He always assumes that. Your brother is hopeless," Sokka smiled. "Well, you know what? I think… we just have to stop hiding. As in…"

"Oh, I don't think I'm ready to have sex in a public place, but if you really think that's a good idea…"

"No!" Sokka laughed, shaking his head and kissing her lips. Azula snickered, letting him tickle her in retaliation for her teasing. "I mean… let's just stop avoiding each other or acting as aloof and distant as we usually do during the day. We'll just… walk out of here together in the morning, no sneaking around. Lots of hand-holding, and public displays of affection…"

"And not quite in his face, we would be doing it casually, so people start talking, and rumors reach him…"Azula smiled slowly.

"And then when he sees us being stupidly, embarrassingly romantic, he'll either be smart enough to know we've been at this forever and that we only laughed yesterday because the irony of the situation was overwhelming…" Sokka chuckled. "Or he'll be silly enough to think we got together over our shared laughter at his ideas, and assume he's the entire reason our relationship began."

"Hmm… that is a good idea," Azula said, smirking. "Then, when our wedding arrives, we can talk about how long we've truly been together in our vows… and then he'll lose his shit in the middle of the temple."

"See? Perfect. We always have the best ideas, Azula," Sokka chuckled, kissing her again.

"That's what happens when two ridiculously smart people are as compatible as we are," Azula whispered, trailing her fingers over his cheek. "Ah… I guess a new life begins now, huh? If we'll finally be out in the open about our relationship…"

"Ready for it?" Sokka asked. "I know there will be some backlash, but…"

"But if I'm the trailblazing, controversial royal who marries a foreigner first, it might help Zuko, when his time comes," Azula said, smiling a little. "Putting up with whatever judgment the people may make of us should help everyone prepare for… well, what should come one day, as long as those two stay together."

"Which means, we're even doing them a favor. Perfect," Sokka grinned. "Ah, I can't wait for tomorrow now… pretending I'm single is a pain when all I want to do is scream to the world that I love you."

"I'm glad you feel like doing that…" Azula said, caressing his arm as she pulled him higher on the bed. "Though, well, I can't promise I'll join you in screaming that way. It sounds, eh, a little embarrassing…"

"Just a little?" Sokka asked, prodding her nose with his own playfully. "That's fine by me, if it's really just a little. I'll assume it's the shouting that embarrasses you, and not saying you love me"

"Indeed," Azula grinned, resting her head against his. "Tomorrow, then…?"

"Yeah… we'll see things through by tomorrow," Sokka said, taking her hand in his, to press his lips to her knuckles. "May the world know a Princess has conquered me completely."

"And may the world know a mighty warrior has conquered me," Azula grinned. "I don't really know how big a change this will be… but I think I'm ready for it."

"So am I," Sokka said, leaning close to kiss her softly.

Whether or not their truth would sit well with Zuko once he understood it in full remained to be seen – knowing Azula's overdramatic brother, he'd probably take everything the wrong way, or at least, he would until he saw irrefutable proof that they were happy together… that they had been, for a long time. That they would still be happy, no matter if their families, or friends, or the whole world, weren't ready to accept their love yet. For their bond was theirs, and only the two of them could decide its beginning or end… though, as things stood, the latter was simply unlikely to happen at all.

For in every kiss, in every breath, in every heartbeat they shared, their love was renewed, strengthened, cemented into their hearts and souls. And on the eve of the day that would certainly bring many changes to their lives, it was doubtless that they would continue to spend a lifetime falling in love with each other, drawn together without restraint, finding belonging and peace in each other's light and darkness, weaknesses and strengths, calms and storms alike. And as much as their relationship had already blossomed across five years, it seemed to the two blissful lovers that their journey was only just beginning…

...

Zuko smiled brightly as he made his way to his office, after receiving the petitioners of the day and dismissing them with either accepted or rejected requests, depending on how reasonable they might have been. Whether they were unpleasant or not, however, his mood appeared to be impervious to anything right now, all be it the result of the most successful distraction he could have hoped for, on the previous night. He wasn't usually so cheerful, anyone would confirm as much, but Suki certainly had ways to make a brightly happy man out of him, like no one else did…

Though as lost as he was in his own thoughts, delighted by remembering the events from the previous night, he caught the voices of whispering servants just before stepping into a corridor near the gardens.

"… Are you serious? They're really doing that in broad daylight?"

"Why do you think it happened? They always keep their mischief for nighttime, what do you think changed this time?

"Beats me, but I saw what I saw, if you don't believe me you can go watch them yourself…"

"Excuse me?"

The two gossiping servants squealed and squirmed away from him by sheer instinct: the male one appeared to have been the one to witness whatever they were discussing, so Zuko glanced at him.

"Where, exactly, are you saying you saw… whatever you saw?" he asked, with an awkward grin.

"J-just… over there? By the cherry trees you planted last year, Lord Zuko," said the man, swallowing hard as he pointed in the right direction. Zuko smiled and nodded.

"Thank you."

He turned smoothly… and then stormed off at haste. How happy he'd been, his mood completely soothed, his heart rejoicing in the love of his life… and now this. That pair was up to no good again, it had to be them, they had to be doing some sort of wicked scheme together to mock him after he tried to pair them up…!

He stormed through the corridors until the cherry trees in question were in sight. There were a few more onlookers within those corridors, one who sported the familiar Kyoshi Warrior uniform, and beautiful auburn hair. Zuko snuck up to her quickly, placing a hand on the small of her back despite he probably shouldn't have…

"What's going on?" Zuko asked her, unwilling to glance at the trees just yet.

"What's with that face?" Suki asked, teasingly. "And here I thought this was exactly what you wanted…"

Her words gave him pause, and he glanced impulsively at the cherry tree…

To find Sokka and Azula were underneath its shade, sitting comfortably on the ground: Sokka's legs were spread open, enabling Azula to rest against his body, curled against him with a blissful grin on her face. And when petals fell upon her frame, Sokka would fish them out – and she returned the favor too, all between quiet laughter.

"W-what… what is…?" Zuko gasped, his eyes impossibly wide. Suki, beside him, giggled.

"I guess some dreams do come true, Zuko," she said, though she had to loop an arm around his waist quickly when it looked like he might outright lose his balance. "Zuko?"

"Th-those two…" he said, blinking repeatedly, then rubbing his eyes, as though to ensure it wasn't just a dream…

And of course, he couldn't even pretend it was anymore, not when Azula pushed herself a little higher to kiss Sokka fully, boldly, with such shameless abandon it was clear she wanted the whole world to see it. And yet… the intimacy, the way they held each other, suggested that this was no prank, no attempt to make fun of Zuko for his failed attempts to match them on the previous day. No… there was no way they'd smile at each other so earnestly if they weren't serious. He had never seen such a genuine, honest expression on his sister's face… or such a heartfelt, tender one on Sokka's. They only seemed to stop kissing to gaze at each other, and then they merely took to kissing anew, whispering words softly to each other, as though no one else was welcome to intrude… despite, as it was, most everyone in the Palace was either hearing about this or already rushing to see it with their own eyes, much as Zuko had.

"Zuko…?" Suki called him, smiling. "You okay?"

"It… it's fine. I'm fine. I… I was right," he chuckled. "Those two… they do belong together."

"I'm sorry you had to suffer so much to make sure it happened, though," Suki smiled awkwardly. "I still think it would be less rude not to intrude in people's personal lives, but… it didn't turn out so badly, did it?"

Oh, but perhaps it wasn't Zuko's doing, he had to acknowledge as much: the way they acted… it suggested a familiarity, a comfort that wasn't normal in blooming relationships. The way they had laughed the previous day… Zuko had assumed they were ridiculing him. But what if that wasn't it? What if the source of their laughter was actually that their relationship had been happening already, without his awareness, and they were relishing in such an ironic situation?

It was a possibility, most definitely. A rather blissful possibility, in his honest opinion. He'd have to ask them for more details later, he guessed… but as he watched them embracing lovingly, he knew that the most important part had happened already: his sister and his best friend had forged a unique bond, through which they had found true belonging, and genuine happiness. And he could only smile proudly for it, for this was exactly the blissful way of life he had known they could find in each other.

...

Alas, it is done! I thought I'd close my stories with a more humorous oneshot this time, rather than a wildly ambitious one. I honestly hadn't planned on going as crazy as I did with this event... but I regret nothing x'D Writing all these prompts was a blast. I'm grateful to everyone who has been supporting and enjoying my oneshots! I won't deny it, a lot of them warranted being more than oneshots, but because of a certain other fanfiction pursuit that takes over my entire existence, I'd never had the chance to flesh out ideas like Evil Ursa AU, or Azula joins the Gaang AU, or, of course, Aang breaks out of the iceberg many years earlier and saves the world with the parents of the traditional Team Avatar instead. This event presented many opportunities for me to finally put those ideas to good use, and I really think I'm satisfied with the work I did, which is easier said than done for a writer.

Thank you again for all the support, and special thanks to everyone who had a hand in making these Sokkla Saturdays a complete success. I'm beyond proud to have been worked alongside all of you, and I hope I continue to do so for many years to come! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this iteration of Sokkla Saturdays 2020!

#sokkla saturdays #sokklasaturday #sokkla #sokka #azula #zuki #zuko #suki #while the other entries didn't really focus much on him #had to throw in the sister ship #for the one that did #:D #this one was a lot of fun #less crazy as far as plotting is concerned #but a lot of fun #hope you all enjoy it! :D

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