#I feel like daughter of a thousand faces counts though because the author DOES write bl and I’m pretty sure swallowtail is gay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ve1vetyoongi · 5 years ago

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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justreadingfics · 5 years ago

Text

Looking For A Heartbeat (23/26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 7K

Warnings for this chapter: angst and an author that really doesn’t wanna spoil anything. If there’s anything you absolutely can’t read and you wanna make sure it’s not in the chapter, dm me.

A/N: Thank you @suz-123 for being so amazing. I’m finally with my new laptop so I hope to be able to write more frequently. I’m really sorry for being such a messy and slow writer, but thank you for staying with me. I really hope you like this chapter, it’s a special one!

Perfect.

That’s the conclusion you come to while you walk around the terrace of your apartment, filled with balloons, happy birthday signs, a huge table with cake and all kinds of colored sweets, matching the Unicorn theme decorations and a lot of different toys.

Summer’s first birthday.

Looking back, you can’t believe it’s already been a year, it feels like everything is happening too fast. A lot of firsts happened in that time: her first tooth, the first time she crawled towards Bucky, her first haircut, the first word… That was a special one. The three of you were in the living room and the TV was on while you and Bucky played with her on the carpet. At some point, your baby daughter´s attention diverted from the toys and she pointed at the TV, and a perfectly pronounced “mama” came out of her lips. You and Bucky looked at each other with widened eyes, and, while she kept repeating her very first word, you turned around to see your image on the TV, dirty and battered, at a press conference after a particularly tough mission. Needless to say, your heart turned into a puddle and you attacked her chubby cheeks with thousands of kisses pulling out giggles from the baby. You could tell daddy was happy but a little bit jealous, just a little bit… however, only a couple of days after and she added “dada” to her vocabulary, making a crying mess of her softie dad.

The one first thing she has yet to go through is her first step. She’ll get there, though. No need to rush. Dr. Nadine has explained more than once that her enhanced DNA could show how far it would affect her abilities at any moment throughout her development and they had no way to estimate exactly how and if it would happen. For now, you’re thankful she’s a healthy baby and has her own pace on things.

You can’t wait to see her little face when she sees her first party. You and Bucky decided to go for the unicorn theme because that stuffed unicorn, the first one Bucky got her when she wasn't even born yet, it’s her absolute favorite and they're inseparable. The poor thing is old, dirty and torn in one too many places, but when you tried to replace it with a brand new one, all you gained in return was tears and a very irate baby.

Yeah, she’ll love it.

As you supervise the last details, checking if the decorations, music, food and drinks are all set and waiting for the guests, Bucky gets Summer ready. She's slept all morning so hopefully she´ll enjoy her party properly. You decided to celebrate it at your own home, since it’s big enough to accommodate the number of guests and, at the same time, it’s cozier than the party rooms available at the Tower. You opened the living room’s glass doors, which goes to the terrace, moved the furniture to allow more space and it worked out pretty well. It’ll be good, you’re confident.

The timing is also perfect since the team does need some good distraction… the last month has been tough. Zemo got out of prison and everything led you guys to believe HYDRA is behind it and helping him hide. At what purpose you still have to figure out. But the thing is, there’s nothing on his whereabouts yet and, in the meantime, you and your friends will stop everything to celebrate your little girl’s first year.

“Hey, mama! Look who’s ready to shine.”

You’re organizing cone hats over the table at the terrace when our gaze lifts to Bucky walking into the living room holding the cutest – and most dolled up - baby you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, my God.” You cover your mouth with both hands and rush to meet them, “Aren’t you the most beautiful birthday girl ever?” You take Summer in your arms while gushing at her.

She brings her hands to the pair of pigtails over her head, as if to show you them, “Dada,” she happily babbles.

The two proud parents laugh and Bucky pecks her cheek to her absolute delight.

“Yes, Dada made your hair really pretty and chose you the most gorgeous outfit, hasn’t he?” She does look incredibly endearing in a pink tutu dress with a few shades of blue on the skirt alluding to the party, blue little party shoes matching the two tiny bows adorning her pigtails. Bucky always makes sure to pamper her and on her first birthday you expected nothing less.

“She looks cute anyway.” He shrugs, but the pride is obvious on his smile and puffed chest. “You look beautiful, too.” He adds softly as his eyes drop to the floral summer dress you chose for the occasion.

You swallow as a wave of warmth reaches your cheeks, “You, too.” He sure does handsome as ever in his customary jeans and white t-shirt. Despite still not going to missions, he keeps his daily workouts, whose results are evident on the muscles straining the fabric covering his arms and chest. Since Summer loves to play with his hair – a preference she may have gotten from you - he’s been keeping his locks in a longer length, right above his shoulders. God, he’s beautiful.

“One year… can you believe it?” He says softly, taking you out of your gawking and stepping closer, bringing his hand over yours on Summer’s back.

You sigh deeply at the warm touch before whispering, “One year…”

“I don't remember ever being this happy…” His voice is tender and low while he speaks, “Looks like we’ve made it, right? Together.” He bores his deeply blue eyes on yours while slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

You sigh and tighten your lips in a small smile as his touch sends shivers through your skin. You don’t remember ever being this happy either but you’ve been thinking more and more about what Wanda said at Pepper’s party. What exactly have you been doing all this time? What are you? A couple? Friends? Co-parents? To be honest, you think you’ve been leaning a lot on the excuse of parenting Summer to not address and hold back your true feelings and, at the same time, to stay close to him as much as you can… How long can you keep up with this?

A loud squeak makes you notice Summer squirming in your arms. You know exactly what she wants, “Ahm, I think I’ll nurse her before everyone arrives, or else she’ll get too agitated,” you say and Bucky nods in agreement, seeming lost on his own thoughts as well.

~~~

It's a cheerful and loud afternoon. All your friends are there, along with some parents with their kids, whom you and Bucky have met when you started taking Summer to the nearest park regularly. You do it mostly together, but when you are on missions he goes alone and Summer, being as sociable and lovely as she can be, has become fast friends with a lot of kids, even the older ones, so it made sense to you to invite everyone who loves her to the party.

Speaking of the little girl, after you nursed her and the guests started arriving, you almost don’t get to hold her anymore, as she goes from lap to lap when she’s not playing with her friends or attached to Thor’s hips. The God of Thunder stopped by just to attend her party, which makes her so happy, reaching out for him to grab her and pointing to all kinds of directions so he can take her and also play with her friends, for all the kids delight. It’s like the one year old just knows he’s everyone’s favorite and wants to share her uncle with them.

Harry and the twins are there, too, being some of the firsts guests to arrive. It turns out Bucky was the only one who didn’t know about Harry and Nat. Everyone had already caught on when they decided to make it official and it was absolutely no big news. Even for the now five year old twins. Luna just couldn’t understand why they were treating something she already knew for so long as such a big deal when the couple put on a special picnic to tell them. Auntie Nat was very proud and, for her relief and Harry’s, she has been a success with both Luna and Jon.

The party has been going on for a little more than an hour when you finally get to pick Summer up to check if she needs a change or something to eat or drink. Across the room, you spot Bucky talking to Steve. Seeing you picking up Summer, he raises his eyebrows as if asking if he was needed. You dismiss him with a wave and he smiles, while you sit on the couch, Summer in your arms. The bell rings and, as you make sure Summer doesn’t need a change yet, putting her standing on your lap and taking a peek beneath her diaper while the one-year old babbles and bounces on her chubby legs, Bucky goes for the door. You can’t imagine who it might be, since everyone you remember inviting is already there.

“Hey, you made it.” Bucky greets the person in front of him.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Your heart and your hands stop at the voice you haven’t heard for a long time.

Your gaze follows the sounds of cheerful greeting and meet the sight by the door. Everything and everyone else around fade out as the two of them say hello to each other and Bucky invites her in.

Anna.

He doesn’t seem surprised by her presence. He seems… comfortable. Even…happy to see her. Did he invite her? Without telling you? When?

You don’t even know how, but you’re already standing up, Summer securely attached to your hip, when the pair starts walking towards you, huge smiles on their faces.

“Here’s the birthday girl,” Bucky announces when they approach you. They’re both smiling still so you put on one for yourself. Or at least you try to, if you succeed you’re not sure. Bucky seems relaxed… you see no disturbance on his demeanor despite the turmoil surfacing inside you, nothing that could hint he is as thrown as you are by Anna’s unexpected – at least for you- presence.

“Hello, happy birthday, Summer.”

It’s nothing but a reflex when you hold Summer tighter in your arms and take a tiny, almost unnoticeable step back when Anna stretches her arms with a wrapped box on her hands and greets your daughter. Her wide smile slips a bit as her widening gaze flashes up at you.

It seems like your step back wasn’t as tiny and unnoticeable for her.

“Ahm, hi, Anna.” You force a calm voice out of you, “Thank you so much,” You reach for the gift, “I’ll put it with the other ones for Summer to open in a bit.” You nod as a vein pulses on your neck, “Ahm, it’s been a while.” You add, trying hard to keep your voice steady.

Summer starts smacking the box repeatedly as delighted loud sounds come out of her lips, making her dad smile at her and move to cup her cheek lovingly. Both dad and daughter oblivious to the tension thickening the air.

Anna’s eyelids drop and her gaze grounds to the floor. She nibbles on her lower lip, fidgeting with her fingers…thinking… it feels like she’s searching for something to say but is failing…

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky says, still focusing on Summer as she succeeds to steal the box with Anna’s gift from your hands and starts shaking it. “I ran into Anna in that coffee shop nearby the park the other day, can you believe that? It was two or three weeks ago, you were on that mission with Sam. I thought I had told you, haven’t I?” He looks at you and tilts his head to the side.

“No, no you didn’t”. Your stare is hard on him, but you don’t care.

“Oh,” it slips out of his lips as his eyebrows furrow.

“Y/n, I thought you knew, I can-”

“You don’t need to worry, Anna.” You interrupt her attempt to say something. “It’s just that I…I was just surprised to see you… that’s all.” You try to form a kind smile on your face. This is your kid’s first party, you really don’t want to ruin it by making a scene or forcing someone to leave. Even if this someone is Anna, a woman who makes your hands shake and your spine freeze with pure… Fuck… It’s irrational and a little unfair, but it is what it is, “You make yourself at home.” You nod, keeping the smile tight in your face.

She seems like she is going to protest when a couple of agents of SHIELD, that certainly must’ve been friends with her when she worked there calls her from across the room. Anna shoots you an apologetic look before thanking you and walking over them. Without actually addressing to Bucky in any way again.

“Hey-” Bucky starts when she’s out of reach.

“It’s almost time for presents and cake,” You cut him, “I’m gonna give Summer something to eat so she doesn’t get cranky.”

“Alright,” he nods, “Let me-”

“It’s ok.” You raise a hand when he moves to grab Summer, “You go entertain your guests.” The harsh words slip out without warning, sheer venom lacing your tongue. The words are bitter, because that’s exactly how you’re feeling. You ignore the crease between Bucky’s eyebrows to strut towards Nat and Harry at the terrace, not giving him space to say anything else.

Bitterness and coldness are all you present him with every single time he tries to interact with you after that moment. You can’t help yourself. You’re mad, angry, disappointed, you feel sick in your stomach, you wanna scream, you’re… you’re jealous. You’re damn jealous, not that you’re proud of it, but you are. You know you have no right to feel that way… but then again, don’t you really? Shouldn’t he have told you he met Anna after all that time? Let alone that he invited her to your daughter’s first birthday? Why didn’t he? Was that just it? Just a casual encounter? Or maybe he was in touch with her all this time? He had never mentioned her again… And no, you’re not in a romantic relationship with him but what you have built so far together had to mean something… He should’ve told you. It’s about respect… nothing else.

No matter how much you fight it, your gaze always ends up seeking for her. You dismiss all questions of concern from mostly Wanda and Nat. It’s fine, you lie. To Anna’s credit, though, she keeps it to herself. You’ve spot some of your friends greeting her, but she stays next to the SHIELD agents most of the time and doesn’t approach Bucky again. You hate to allow all this situation to somehow taint the experience of your daughter’s first birthday and therefore you’re even madder at Bucky, no matter how childish it makes you seem.

“Anna is what I need…She’s the one for me.”

Even after everything that transpired afterwards, you’ve never forgotten those words he said to you that night. The night he chose Anna. Those are the words repeating in your brain now and breaking your heart all over again, bringing out memories of nights spent awake thinking about him and her together, holding each other. The damn terror that he finally comes to his senses, again, and realizes that, indeed, she’s the one for him, lodges itself in your chest again.

The words keep haunting your mind while everyone gathers to watch Summer opening the presents. You and Bucky side by side as the gifts are delivered to your daughter on his lap. The little girl, by the way, seems much more interested in the papers and bags rather than the actual presents inside, playing and trying to hold all of them at once. That makes your heavy heart a bit lighter as you giggle at her antics. You try not to think too much of how Bucky seems to insistently gain your attention and you never engage fully when he tries to share a word or a laugh with you.

After all the presents are opened, Summer is enjoying herself with some of her friends, finally giving her new toys a chance with Bucky’s close supervision. You decide it's almost time for the cake and go to the kitchen to pick it up from the fridge.

“Y/N?”

You’re closing the fridge’s door with your elbow, huge chocolate cake in hands when Anna quietly calls your name. Not really expecting to have to talk to her again, the breath catches in your throat before you turn around to see her.

“Oh, do you need help?” She steps to you when she spots the cake in your hands.

“It’s ok. It’s not as heavy as it looks.” You quickly dismiss her offer. Does she want something? Why has she followed you to the kitchen?

She halts, “Ahm, Can I talk to you for a second?”

You use a moment to take a good look at her. Her plunged shoulders make her seem small as she looks up at you through her eyelashes expectantly, almost sheepishly. She’s nervous. You sigh and step forwards to carefully place the cake on the balcony. There are plenty of stools for both of you to take a seat, but you prefer to keep standing up when you nod at her, “Sure.”

“I’m sorry for today,” She doesn’t take a breath before speaking, “I really thought Bucky had told you. Like he said, we ran against each other on a coffee shop, I don’t even remember which one. He walked in to use the bathroom, he needed to change Summer or something.” She narrows her eyebrows before her features softens, “She’s beautiful by the way… ahm, we hadn’t seen each other for a long time and he stopped to talk for a bit. It was five minutes. He mentioned Summer’s birthday and ended up inviting me to come. I-I, he seemed so carefree and casual, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem If I dropped by… I really missed everyone and…” Her head drops as she sighs deeply, “I should’ve thought things through better.

You let her words sink in. She talked fast, urgently. The way she keeps looking back at you, pleading…It seems important for her that you believe what she’s saying and, in fact, you do.

“It’s ok, Anna.” You relent, letting your posture lose the stiffness, “I mean… I’m not gonna pretend I expected to see you here… but I… I just wish he would’ve told me beforehand…” You admit in a murmur, choosing to omit the part where her presence made you jealous as fuck. You’re not sure if Anna is aware of what’s the status of your relationship with Bucky and you rather keep it that way for some reason.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.” She says, waving both her hands and taking a step forward, “He might have just forgotten. I know planning a birthday party is a lot…”

Even if you’re now assured that they haven’t been meeting and it was just a casual encounter and despite her trying to soothe you and justify his omission, you’re not convinced. The fact he hasn’t told you anything still bothers the hell out of you, “Anyway…” You shake your head dismissively, “Don’t worry, it’s fine, Anna. So, how’ve you been doing?” You’re not sure exactly why you’re asking it, maybe to try and make the tension still lingering a little easier to bear.

Her lips open and her brows raise. Anna sure wasn’t expecting your question, either, “Oh…yeah, I’m good. it’s been a good year actually,” She licks her lips, “I stopped practicing, have been focused on studying… I’m engaged.” She lifts her hand, showing the beautiful diamond on her finger.

Your jaw drops. How the hell haven’t you seen this?

“Oh, wow, congratulations.” You greet, sounding as stunned as you really are.

“I’ve met him during PHD classes.” The smile on her lips is easy and dreaming, “He proposed in three months, my Jeromy. Seems a bit rushed, but when you know, you know, right?” She shrugs.

For the first time since she walked through the door of your home, you don’t have to force it when you smile at her. She’s right. When you know you know, even if, sometimes, pretending you don’t seems easier…

“Bucky invited him, too, but he’s giving a lecture now.” She informs.

Silence falls back between you two. After the news of her engagement – which helps to ease down the tension a bit more- you don’t know what else to say to her, but she seems like she’s not done yet. She places her hand on the back pockets of her jeans, and takes in a long breath as her eyes drop to the floor before she speaks again.

“Listen Y’/N, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you for a very long time…” She looks up at you.

You tilt your head, encouraging her to go on.

“I’m sorry for that day…” Anna murmurs, “For coming saying all those things to you before… before you got into the accident.” She swallows.

Oh…that.

“Anna…” you try.

“No, really.” She insists, “I know you don’t blame me. Bucky told me as much the last time we spoke when you were still pregnant. Maybe I didn’t directly cause the accident, but I shouldn’t have come, anyway.” The regret is heavy on her voice, “I tried to manipulate a situation in favor of my own interests with the excuse I was doing it for Bucky. Now I can see that and how messed up it was. I’m sorry.”

You see the guilt still tormenting her. You never really think about that accident anymore and you can see it still haunts her. And, after all, coming to talk to you that day and everything else… you know she was in love with Bucky. It was stupid, but who are you to judge, anyway. Anna ended up caught up in the mess of you and Bucky. Suddenly you feel a little bad for how you’ve been acting today. You know she’s not a threat, even if you can’t help but still dread what she somehow represents to you: that, maybe, there’s something or someone else out there better for Bucky and he can leave you, or whatever this is what you have, can end at any moment.

“We all make mistakes, Anna.” Your answer is firm, “And, yes, I really don’t blame you. What happened, happened, and it’s in the past. Everything turned out fine.”

A loud squeal catches both of your attentions and through the opened door, you see Bucky throwing Summer to the air as the little one screams with sheer joy. His smile just as big as hers.

“I’m so glad he’s that happy. He deserves it.” Anna grins, when she turns back to you.

Your gaze remains stuck on your little family. He really is happy. And so are you… even if it’s not complete and you’ve been denying yourself an attempt of being fully happy beside him by admitting how much you still love him and need him by your side as more than Summer’s father. What you already achieved with him is more than you’ve ever dreamed of after running away like you did all these years ago. The thought of anything ruining this happiness, whether someone else or your own stupidity, makes it hard for you to breathe.

“Anyway, I guess it’s better if I go now.” Anna cuts through the small silence.

“Oh, no, Anna.” You quickly protest, turning your gaze back to her, “It’s time for the cake. Stay. It’s ok, really.” You softly assure her, “To be honest, I could actually use some help, Steve ordered like 3 tons of cake here.”

You offer her a smile, which she kindly accepts by answering you with one of her own and a small thankful nod.

~~~~

It’s already dark when the last guests say goodbye. After striking up a battle with sleep to keep playing, Summer finally lost to exhaustion and passed out on Steve’s lap. Now, after cleaning everything up with the help of your friends, you’re at last relaxing on one of the loungers in your terrace eating a piece of the cake, while Bucky gives Summer a bath and puts her to sleep. Since she’s a heavy sleeper and almost nothing wakes her up after she dozes off, it is not uncommon for you two to bathe or change her while the little girl sleeps like a rock.

All in all, it was a good day. After your talk with Anna you were able to properly enjoy the rest of the party. Watching Summer clapping her little hands along with everyone else while they sang her happy birthday will always be held in your heart. Summer had a blast on her first birthday, even if she still doesn’t really get the meaning of it. Everything was worth it.

But now, that the buzz of the party is gone and you find yourself alone with your thoughts, that ugly, toxic feeling comes back to bite the pit of your stomach. You can only define it as jealousy and… and fear. Both feelings holding a grasp around your throat… slowly taking the air out of your lungs…suffocating you. You haven’t really talked to Bucky again at the party…Why didn’t he tell you about meeting Anna, about inviting her?

Yeah, you’re still damn annoyed.

You hear his steps when he walks into the terrace, but you don’t turn to him. You don’t move from your spot, staring ahead to the skyline through the glass windows when he sits on the lounger beside you and places the baby monitor – which, by the way, is Friday showing the image of you daughter peacefully sleeping on her crib - on the small round table between you two.

“She was exhausted, slept while I bathed her, but kept clapping her hands. She might’ve been dreaming... it was so cute,” He chuckles quietly, and continues when you just hum an answer and don’t look at him, “She didn’t even stir when I put on her pjs, and you know how much she hates putting on her pjs. She’ll probably sleep late tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” You answer plainly, shoving a huge piece of cake in your mouth.

“It was a great first party wasn’t it?”

You scoff, swallowing the cake and biting your tongue to just don’t spit the growing irritation inside you all over him, “For the most part, yeah.”

“Are you ok?”

From the corner of your eyes, you catch him leaning over to be able to see your face, since you have yet to look at him.

“I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Ok, it’s just that…I’ve noticed you were a little off-”

“Oh, have you?” Your face snaps to him, “What a perceptive genius you are.”

“Oh, hey…Where is that coming from?”

“You invited Anna?” You finally let it out of your chest, desperate to finally let loose the grip on your throat, “I haven’t heard a single word from her for more than one year and then she comes to our daughter's first birthday party? Have you been seeing her?” You know he hasn’t, you know that, but you can’t control your tongue, you want this fight. For some reason, you want to fight him, yell at him. Even hurt him.

“What? No, of course not, I-”

“Don’t tell me. You don’t need to say anything.” You swiftly get up, stomping your feet, as the plate with the cake makes a tingling noise for being roughly placed on the table next to the baby monitor, “Forget I said anything. You don’t owe me an explanation, it’s not like we have anything to do with each other-”

“Hey, hey, what the hell?” When you try to storm your way passed him, he stands up and grabs you by the arm and you jerk back before he turns you to him. Your face is so close to his, your bodies only an inch from each other, you feel the warmth rolling off of him to you. Your angry heart beats faster and when he tries to pull you even closer to him you smack him across his chest. “I haven’t been seeing Anna.” He continues, gaze fixed on you, unfazed by your attempt to shove him away. “I’ve met her by chance the other day, Summer played with her, Anna asked how old she was and I ended up inviting her to drop by, I didn’t even think-”

“What? You didn’t even think of me?” You challenge, raising your chin up, “You could’ve told me, Bucky,” The defiance sweeps into your voice. But you don’t try to get away from his touch again. It burns you in a much too familiar and longed way.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pleads, “But do you wanna know why I didn’t tell you?” His eyes are frantic, roaming around every inch of your face, “I forgot. I just forgot because it didn’t feel important at all. Seeing Anna again didn’t mean anything… it was like meeting someone I used to know a very long time ago and that was all that it was… a turned page of my life. Summer was there and we were in the middle of planning the birthday, I just invited her… I didn’t even think about it again, but If I knew it would make you so upset, I would’ve never done this. I’m sorry.”

His eyes settle on yours. Even if his look is still filled with despair, just like his words, beg for you to understand, it somehow calms you. The fear that has been making your heart shrink, that the encounter with Anna had maybe awakened something inside him, a realization that he deserves more than you… that fear fades, allowing you to take in a deep breath, “Ok… ok. I have no right to be upset,” Your eyes shut, “I just…”

“I didn’t even think of you? We don’t have anything to do with each other?” The hold on you becomes stronger as he turns your own phrases into offended questions and you look back at him while his eyes narrow, “Why would you say that when you mean everything to me and you’re what I think about all the fucking time?”

Your heartbeats are loud in your ears as your knees buckle, “Bucky…” you breathe, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. His eyes flutter close and he leans against you. Your chest could explode at his admission… Not once in the last year of spending almost all the time together he had said something like that to you. That Wanda’s question creeps up to your mind again, “Bucky,” you call, and his eyes open to you, “What the hell are we even doing here?” You ask softly as tears well up in your eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asks, letting go of your arm to wipe one tear of the corner of your eyes with the back of his finger.

“This.” You cease the touch on his face and step back, waving back and forth between you two, “This whole year? You never… you never said anything like that.” Your voice comes out tiny, “I’m the one to ask. What do you mean by it? This life… What are we doing? What the hell are we?”

For a moment he just looks at you, breathing… thinking…“I don’t know.” He says, “We’re us, I guess.” He steps forward, making the distance you’ve just added between you two smaller, “I don’t know if what we’re doing is right, if we’re fooling ourselves… all I know is that this is where I belong. With you. With Summer...”

Your gaze drops. That’s it. Summer. She’s yours and his whole world and she’s the only thing holding him with-

“With you, baby…” He speaks quickly as if he’s reading your mind while both of his hands cup your face. The contrast between warm skin and cold metal you love so much because it means it’s him “I belong with you… This whole year… this whole time there wasn’t a minute when I didn’t think about kissing you.”

You hold your breath when he rushes a bit forward but halts, like he’s holding back the impulse to kiss you. He licks his lips, burying his eyes into yours. A single tear rolled down his cheek, “I buried everything inside me because what if you didn’t want this… what if I scared you again… what if you left me? If you leave me-”

He couldn't finish his sentence because your lean forward and capture his lips into yours. What if you leave him? Is this what he’s been thinking? You’ll show him, you’ll show him…

He kisses you back instantly. And of course the kiss is desperate, of course is eager and sloppy, because that’s what you both are now. Desperate to show each other everything you two have been keeping inside this whole year. All the want… all the desire, the need. The love. All of you.

Metal hand drops to your waist and pulls you to him while the flesh one rests on the back of your neck. But they don’t lodge there for long as they run all over your body. Fast… Hard. He pushes his tongue through your lips and you fist the fabric of his shirt on his back with one hand while the other snakes up and digs on his loose locks. God, you missed him. You missed this. It’s old, it’s home but also it’s like something you never tasted before. A relearned love.

Without parting your lips from his you step forward and he follows your lead, stepping back till his knees meet the side of the lounger. You break the kiss only for a second before pushing him backwards so he can sit on it. Sheer want rules your moves when you quickly straddle him and close your lips around his again. A whimper sweeps into your mouth when he grabs your ass. Your body move on its own when you rock into him. Feeling all of him. Hard and longing for you against your core, setting it to flames.

A hand of yours dips beneath his shirt, roaming over that enticing path of little hairs right above his pants before your nails scratches up higher on his broad body. With a gasp, he breaks apart from your lips, only to drag his mouth down your jaw and neck. Licking and sucking and biting… Marking you as you hiss in delightful pain, a kind of pain that can soothe the ache of not having him for so long.

“I love you,” His voice is rough and breathless when he whispers against your heated skin, as lips kiss and hands and fingers touch, stroke, grab. “I’ve loved you for so long, baby.” He reaches your ear with his lips and you pull his locks harder.

“God, I love you too.” You’re a mess of tears, smiles and soft whimpers as you keep kissing and touching him, never wanting to stop, wishing that you could somehow imprint his body and soul into yours and never let go.

“There’s no one else for me. I was so stupid…” He whispers, “I love you. I love you.” He repeats, between soft and long kisses on your neck, “Only you. All this time, all I ever wanted was you… There’s no one else. You don’t have to be jealous…” His grips on your body becomes impossibly stronger, “I was so scared, so damn scared…”

Something triggers inside you. A somber feeling that makes you stiffen. He continues ravishing your neck and cheeks and earlobes but you don’t respond anymore, widened eyes staring forward at the wall behind him and when he seeks for your mouth again you pushed him back. Ignoring the frown on his face and without any word you pull away from his lap and turn your back on him.

He follows you shortly and gently places his hands on your shoulders, “What’s wrong, baby?”

You can hear the impending fear in his voice.

You can’t do this.

“We can’t do this, Bucky.” You give voice to your mind and you can feel how he stiffens behind you so you turn to face him. You need him to understand. His stare is fixed on you, swollen lips from kissing parted… his eyes close for a moment as if trying to process what you just said after admitting you love him.

You breathe in the courage to say what you must, “Here I was thinking we were tracing a new path, that we were finally reaching that peace you always said you wanted but I know you couldn’t find it with me, and then…” You scoff, staring away for a moment, “and then I get jealous and we fight… We haven’t fought for so long… We were at peace. I love you, I do.” You assure, pleading for him to understand, “I love you so much, sometimes is hard to even breathe when I look at you, but… but… We shouldn’t do this. We’re filled with imperfections. We can’t do this. What if we hurt each other… What if I hurt you again,” You can’t stand that thought, “I’m not… I’m not perfect.”

His stare is undecipherable as he keeps it fixed on you. You love him, you really do, but would you two be able to write a different story, one that won’t bring hurt and pain upon the both of you? Upon Summer? You know you have been doing good so far, but both of you admitted you’ve been holding back for the sake of your peace… what happens when you let all your feelings loose?

He takes in a deep sigh before tilting his head to the side and bringing a hand to slowly scratch his beard. When he looks back at you a small smile curls up his lips.

You hold your breath.

“I’ve stayed away from you for two years and not a single moment I was at peace.” He says. With no rush, no desperation. What you hear into his soft voice is a quiet sense of realization. “I’ve been lying to myself… first I thought I could find peace and love elsewhere. Didn’t happen.” He chuckles. How can he be so calm? “Then I told myself that just staying next to you, without expressing how I really felt, what you really mean to me, would be enough, but tonight, fighting with you? Seeing how much you still love me? Kissing you…having your body close to mine once again…” You take in a shuddering breath as he speaks, no trouble, no sign of doubt on his speech, “I was never more at peace than tonight… You’re it, baby.” He licks his lips and shakes his head, “I don’t wanna lie to myself anymore. I don’t wanna lie to you. I know you’re not perfect, I don’t expect you to be. I’m not perfect either, I’m far from it. But I love you and you love me.” He pauses, waiting for you to deny him, but you don’t, how can you? “And love, my dear? Love isn’t perfect.”

When he finishes, with a teasing and comfort smirk on his face your heart beats loudly against your chest. You know you said that exact same thing to him…. That night on the rooftop. The very night your daughter was conceived… the last time you felt all of his love. At that time, it seemed like you truly believed that. But now? There’s too much to lose... too much to risk for an imperfect love… Right?

He steps closer to you and your body follows him, as you take one step closer to him, too, like you’re in a trance. But that’s when something catches your attention behind him, right past his shoulder and takes you out of your little daze. The baby monitor over the small table a few feet behind him. Your blood freezes in your veins. The image of a sleeping Summer is there, but…something…something is wrong.

“Bucky?”

He follows your transfixed gaze and looks over his shoulder. The way he holds his breath tells you he can see it, too. It’s small. Almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Her little arm moving to reach for her face and then it’s back on its original position… a few seconds… a small glitch…it happens again.

Your heart flies to your throat and you don’t breathe or think again before you turn on your heels and bolt to your baby’s room, Bucky on your toes. You trip on furniture; you may have hurt your leg… you don’t know… you can’t feel. All you feel is Summer, Summer, Summer.

The scream rips out of your soul when you storm into her room and, through blurred vision, you find the crib. Like you so violently dreaded, the image on the baby monitor was a nothing but a recording,

Summer. Your baby daughter… She’s gone.

~~~

Chapter 24 coming soon.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky fic #marvel fanfiction #angst #looking for a heartbeat

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years ago

Text

Becoming A Stark (19)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 2352

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of horrible parenting

Author’s Note: Y/M/I= Your Middle Initial

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Walking back through the front door, you’re hoping you can get back up the stairs without your dad spying you, but apparently your luck has run out. “Y/N Y/M/I Stark, living room now.” Your dad’s voice is stern, but not as harsh as you expect it to be. You take a breath before walking into the living room. Both Tony and Pepper are waiting for you, which shouldn’t really surprise you since it’s almost six on a Wednesday night, but still, a disappointed or angry talk from both of them is going to be worse than if only from one of them. Your dad is pacing the living room, while Pepper is just sitting on the couch. “Sit.” He points towards the couch. Pepper rolls her eyes at your dad’s mood, but pats the seat next to her.

“Hello to you too.” You tease only slightly as you sit down next to her.

“Hi sweetheart.” She says having not seen you since this morning.

“We can do niceties later. Right now we’re dealing with the bullshit that is her running off and telling FRIDAY not to tell me where she went, not telling Happy where she went, and oh right not telling her parents where she went.”

“But we aren’t going to talk about how you were in a shit mood and decided to take it out on me? I’m the only one in the wrong here? That’s some real bullshit Tony.” You call him by his real name, not feeling like he’s acting much like a father right now. “You keep acting like it’s a huge threat being your kid, but honestly, I think you just like being controlling more than anything else. You lock me up in a tower like a Disney Princess, choose what I’m allowed to eat, where I’m allowed to go, and who I’m allowed to be friends with. I don’t think you ever wanted a kid. You wanted a robot you could control. Well guess what? I’m not a fucking robot. I’m a human being, with feelings and emotions. And what I’m feeling right now is that I’m done with your bullshit.” You scream at him before storming out of the room.

“Couldn’t have kept your cool for two minutes Tony?” Pepper asks, looking off in the direction you ran away.

“Me? Did you not hear her monologue attacking my entire personality? Apparently I’m no better than Howard so…” Tony shouts before storming off towards the garage. Pepper knows that there are two hotheads in her life, but seeing as Tony is most likely going for a drive, she’ll tackle you first.

Pepper knocks on your door, waiting to hear the reply that never comes. So she opens the door to see you curled up under your blankets, headphones plugged in, staring at the ceiling. Pepper sees the same stubbornness she’s seen from Tony time and time again. Making her way across the room, she sits on the edge of your bed. You try to not make eye contact with her for a few moments, but eventually pull your headphones out and look her in the eyes.

“I’m not coming down to apologize.”

“He’s not even down there right now.” Your eyebrows pull together as you take in what she said. “Like father, like daughter. He stormed out of the room a few moments after you did.”

“Was that when he was yelling? Something about Howard?” You ask. Pepper doesn’t know how much you know about your grandparents, but it’s clear you heard at least some of what your dad yelled, so she nods her head. “When he’s talking about Howard, he means my grandfather, right? His father?” Pepper nods slowly. It’s not really her story to tell you. “Was my grandfather a bad person?” You ask before adding, “No one will tell me about him.”

“Your dad and him didn’t see eye to eye. It really should be your dad to tell you the story.”

“That’s what Aunt Nat told me too.”

“But, what I can tell you, is your dad loves you very much. Is he overprotective at times? Very. But does he love you? Very much. However the two of you are more similar than you are different. And that comes out in your tempers more than anything.” Pepper runs a hand over your leg.

After cooling off, you decide to get your homework over with. You don’t have that much for a Wednesday anyway. It takes you barely an hour and you end up on your bed, scrolling through social media and texting Peter and friends, when a noise interrupts your music.

Tony knocks on the door, opening it slightly. “Can I come in kiddo?”

“Are you coming in to yell at me again?” You ask, not looking up from your phone, not wanting to look at your dad yet.

“No.” He opens the door more, walking towards you. He notes the sweatshirt you’ve put on- a black shirt with white writing that reads ‘I Suck At Apologies So Unfuck You Or Whatever’. “Pepper was right that I should have kept my cool earlier instead of yelling at you when you got home.” Tony wants to sit on your bed, like he’s done a thousand times, but decides to sit on your desk chair instead, so that he doesn’t invade your space entirely.

“Yeah, well according to Pepper, we’re both hotheads.” You say, not disagreeing with him, but not agreeing either.

“Sounds like something we both got from our pops.” He says, not letting anything else out. You want to ask more about the grandfather you don’t know, but you know it’s not the time for it. “Can we try having a civil conversation about everything now? Or we can have Pep come be a mediator if we need it?”

“I think we can be calm if we try?” You suggest.

“I’m not trying to make your life a living hell.” Tony says after a moment of thinking. You set your phone down and turn to look at him, sitting cross legged. “I promise you that. And I’m sorry. I know it feels like I have a bunch of rules but I’m trying to do the best for you and by you. Part of it is about your safety. That’s the parts that may not seem like a ton of fun and we had a conversation about it when you first moved in. If I could change it to be less strict and more fun I would. But I’m literally being the least strict I can be while still ensuring your safety.”

“Really?”

“Really. The food stuff, maybe,” he grimaces, “we can try and be a little more lenient. But I’m also trying to ensure that you have stuff that’s going to make your blood sugar good. So can we try to come up with a compromise on everything?” You nod. “And on the friends, the only people I keep away are the ones who could be safety issues. Normal humans, that’s on you to decide who you want to be friends with. And I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations about Peter out on you. But, the biggest thing, I one hundred percent want you, just the way you are. I don’t want a robot. If I did, I’d make another one. I have plenty as is. But you? I love having you. And I wouldn’t change who you are.” You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. “Did I miss any part of what you were mad about?”

You try and think back to what all you yelled at him, and what he yelled at Pepper before leaving. “You didn’t miss anything, but I’m sorry too.” Tony looks at you in confusion. “I wasn’t trying to attack who you are-”

“Ah, you heard me yelling at Pep.”

“Maybe I did, but I did honestly attack who you were which wasn’t fair to you either.”

“Maybe not. But also I was still pissed off when I was yelling at her. Which gives me another person I need to apologize to, because let’s be honest, I don’t deserve her.”

“She’s the best you’ll ever get.” You say honestly.

“Very true.” Tony agrees. “But, I should have just removed myself from the situation instead of saying anything.”

“We both should have.” You can’t help but admit.

“True.” Tony walks over to you to give you a hug. “Even though we’re apologizing, I do have to tell you, you are grounded. One month.”

“Yeah, you told me on the phone.” You lean into his hug, but bite the bullet and ask the question that no one is willing to answer. “Dad?”

“Yeah kiddo?”

“Why will no one talk about your dad?” You feel your dad stiffen, but then he takes a deep breath as he pulls away from the hug.

“Well I should have expected this to come up eventually. Who all mentioned him?”

“Well you mentioned him earlier, but Pepper did because I asked and Aunt Natasha did a while ago.”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. You sure you want it?” You nod. “Ok, then scootch over.” You slide to the left of your bed and your dad sits down, wrapping an arm around you. “My dad was older when he had me. He was uh... fifty two when I was born. And he was of an older generation. So when I was growing up, he tended to be somewhat harsher. He didn’t believe in praise and tended to live by the motto that ‘Stark men have iron in their veins’. Made for harder times trying to impress him or just having him show affection. Growing up it was easy to feel like my father never wanted me, or that I was nothing more than a name to carry on the Stark legacy. As time went on, nothing I did was ever good enough. How could it be, when he helped create Captain America? All I heard growing up was Captain America this and Captain America that and it was easy to believe that Captain America was the one that could have been a better son for my dad, even though they were only a year apart.”

“So did your mom not step in?”

“Mom believed that Dad was showing his love in the ways that he knew how to. She showed her love in the ways she could. Which was better than Dad. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t have her faults either.”

“So did you just disown him as a father or something? Is that why I haven’t met them?”

“They’re, uh, dead. They were killed when I was seventeen.” You look up at your dad’s face, looking for hurt or something but seeing not much of anything. “Mom would have loved you. Would have told me I was getting all the karma for all the years of partying by having a daughter that I now need to protect from all the boys and girls out there.”

“And your dad?”

“I can’t say. I’d want to say he’d see you and hopefully see past his past mistakes, but I can’t promise you that. But I know your grandmother would have loved you- just the way you are.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“You can ask me anything, always.”

“When Aunt Nat was telling me about him, it was because she was telling me about your reaction about finding out about me. I wanted to know back when I first moved in. And she said you didn’t want to be like Howard.”

“I’m waiting for the question kiddo.”

“Well and then earlier you yelled at Pepper that you were no better than Howard.”

“Again, still no question.”

“What did I say that made you feel like you were no better than him?”

“Kiddo, we both already said that we said things we probably shouldn’t have-”

“You said you’d answer anything-”

“I said you could ask anything. Never said I’d answer it.” Tony says jokingly, trying to let humor cover the stuff he doesn’t usually talk about.

“Dad, please?”

“Fine. Um, Howard was always really controlling growing up. He made decisions about whether I was allowed to go places, who were the right kind of friends, and other things along the same lines. Honestly if I hadn’t gone off to college at 15, I don’t know if I would have gotten out from being under his thumb so early. That’s not to say that others didn’t try to take his place after his death but still. When you said I was treating you like you were supposed to be a robot I could control instead of a human, it reminded me of too many fights I had with him and Mom.” You can’t help but wrap your arms around him and hug your dad tightly.

“I really didn’t mean those ones. You’re honestly a really good dad. And you and Pepper show me all the time that I’m loved. Far from a robotic situation.” You try to eat the words you spat out earlier, knowing you can’t take back words once they’re said.

“You might not say that once I take Homecoming away.”

“I honestly wasn’t even sure if I was going to go. I haven’t been asked to go. Plus it’s the same weekend of all the moving stuff so Happy will probably be dealing with all of that so,” you shrug, “just seems like a busy enough weekend already.”

“Then I guess taking it away is pointless. However, if you go anywhere without Happy again, the forehead of security will be a 24/7 thing, not just a to and from school thing, got it?”

“Ok, ok. I get it.” He pulls you in close for another hug.

“Did you two kiss and make up?” Pepper asks from the doorway.

“We’re all better.” You say, still leaning into your dad’s arms.

“Good, because dinner is ready, and I wasn’t going to let the two of you continue your fight at the table.”

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drethanramslay · 4 years ago

Note

14 Bryce x mc please🥰

Thanks for the ask anon :)

You can find the prompt list here

#14- Are you okay?

Word count: 1.1 K words

Warning: Mention of gaslighting, emotional abuse, suicide and self harm

Author’s note: So um.. I was not having the best of days and when I saw this prompt, the flood broke XD

This is written in first person i.e my mc, Aliya Acharya’s POV

please forgive me if I make any mistakes.

Are You Okay?

I walked down the hallways in a daze. People usually say that I'm a cheery and funny person to hang out with me and that's the truth.

But, a phone call from my parents wipes the slate and leaves me... Empty.

At 28, I thought I would have gotten over the hell they put me through, and that I could just flip them off and carry on but that does not happen. I just can't bring myself to do that.

So I continue walking, with no direction, hoping that the numbness in my chest leaves me.

Someone must have called out to me, but it felt like my head was under water. I might be here physically but my mind was empty, all emotions down the drain. Just a walking drone.

A hand touched my shoulder and forced me to turn towards him.

"Angel! I have been calling you for the last minute." Bryce spoke.

Gulping, I forced a smile on my face. "Sorry, I was busy thinking about the case."

Bryce's eyes scrutinized my face, and I couldn't get my self to meet his eyes.

"No, something is wrong... Are you okay?"

Are you okay?

What a funny question. I mean whenever someone (probably like 2 people) asks me this, I can't help but throw my head back and laugh which usually brings weird looks from them, which eventually leads them to not talk to me for the next decade.

It's not sarcasm. I genuinely find it hilarious.

Because when someone asks me that question, the shitty and fucky reality of my life slams into me like a train wreck.

My life indeed is a series of unfortunate events occurring one after the other and at this point I have accepted it that I was born to suffer.

I'm not trying to pull the "woe is me card". Nah, not into the sympathy kink. It's a universal fact that me, Aliya Acharya is cursed.

I never really talk about it though because when I once tried, my friends, peers, nobody believed me that my parents are actually so toxic that Britney Spears could be jealous.

Why would they anyway? They have met my parents, who are respected people and are held at a pedestal. My dad is an entrepreneur of a large company with a turn over so huge, you would be shocked. And my mother is literally an angel and has her own NGO where she teaches the poor kids of Mumbai basic education. She is a healer and a councellor.

So. why would anyone believe me when I say that they abuse me emotionally?

I tried talking about these things when I was 18 to my therapist, trying to get some guidance, some help. But, that completely backfired on me because she was close friends with my parents.

Just ignore it... Wow what a solid advice.

So yeah, I have given up after that. I used to write my suffering in a diary but after sometime, that also didn't help.

I was numb to everything.

Wake up. Eat. Study. Sleep. Repeat.

I had no social life because well, I have my parents to blame for that. Since a very young age they raised me to be super competitive and that everyone I met, wants me to fail. They would put heavy restrictions on who I interacted with till the late teens.

And it didn't help that I was bullied throughout highschool.

So hello anxiety, depression and self esteem issues.

Being depressed has become a second nature for me. Even though it's been five years since I moved out, I still slip into bouts of depression. No amount of therapy or medication can fix the damage they did to me.

They gaslighted me like the fourth of July. Everyday there was this fix menu of insults which they flung my way, like daggers.

-> you are a disappointment. -> you are abusive -> I have given birth to a monster (that's my mom's favourite line) -> you deserve to die/ you shouldn't have been born( this was said like four times but it counts!)

And the funny thing is if anyone else were to say this to me, anyone other than my family, they would be on the ground with a broken nose.

I mean, why would your own family say such things to you, right?

So I have never spoken about this. I want to move on so bad, but the scars on my legs and my heart are a painful reminder.

I can't even say I'm a survivor because I still suffer. Even though I'm thousands of miles away from them, they always call to tell me 'how I have distanced myself from them' and how 'they don't deserve to be cut off from their daughter's life'.

That really sends me off. It pisses me so much that they are so proud and blinded by this false sense of superiority that they can't see how words hurt. I want to shout at them and tell them how I have a record of how many times I wanted to take my life because of them.

But I don't.

Because they will end up saying I'm hypersensitive and a habitual liar.

I mean what is even the point?

So yeah... I built up a fortress, brick by brick, making my walls high so that absolutely no one can come in.

No one can hurt me.

No one can have that insane power over me.

And no one can see the ugly scars.

But as I stare at those honey brown eyes, with flecks if gold, I find my resolve crumbling. I find myself stumbling.

After the entire ordeal of bullying and gaslighting, I became a very good judge of character... And for the first time in a very long time, I actually see genuine concern.

That someone actually wants my wellbeing. That someone actually gives a damn about me.

And that's scary.

Every time I edge towards opening up, my conscience drags me back, saying that 'This is all a foil to hurt me.'

But... I don't feel the kind of security anywhere but in Bryce's arms. I never feel the reassurance from anywhere but from Bryce. He had been supportive, caring and the affection he shows me is slowly filling up the void my parents left in me.

"Aliya, you know that I'm there for you right?" He said as he placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me out if my reverie.

And that did it.

That gave me the push to take the leap.

The leap of faith.

Faith that he will catch me when I'm falling apart and he will catch me when I am falling for him.

I took a sharp inhale, and looked up at him, tears welling up in my eyes. That one word, which I had struggled to say all my life, slipped off my tongue like butter.

"No.... I'm not okay."

This was word vomit at its finest.

I might end up deleting it

Bryce X MC: @loveellamae @lilyvalentine @sanchita012 @zeniamiii @lucy-268 @raleigheffingcarrera @have-aheart @utterlyinevitable @rookie-ramsey

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms @oofchoices @agent-breakdance @dailydoseofchoices @tyrilstouch @siaramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @ac27dj @ramseysno1rookie @justanotherrookie @openheart12 @jamespotterthefirst @checkurwindow @chasingrobbie @junggoku @bellcat2010 @choicesstan1 @mvalentine @crazynutella @hatescapsicum

#anushka writes #writing prompts #oh bryce #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart bryce #open heart #open heart mc #open heart 2 #choices #choices oh #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry

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puppy-steve · 4 years ago

Text

⭐️axhiiles’ 2020 fic rec⭐️

there's a total of 178 fics in this bad boy and i blame it on 2020. my bookmarks look like a warzone.

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4

-all fics are in alphabetical order by title, not fandom

-please tell me if the links are broken/linked wrong

-smut is marked with **

as always, please leave a kudos and a comment on what you read, and reblog this to spread!

5 Times Kageyama Made Hinata Carry Him, and the One Time Kageyama Carried Hinata - 3.9k, single chapter author: bowlerhatfringe fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama using Hinata as a chair/forcing him to carry him places. Hinata considers it strength training and loves it.

17 Birthdays and More - 12.3k, single chapter author: purple_anonymous fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Bakugou had called all of them for an emergency meeting. Together. And Eijirou and the rest of the class are currently staring at him like they’ve entered some alternate universe where everything’s the same except Bakugou willingly called for an emergency meeting with the whole class of 3A.

Well, almost everyone.

That was also a surprise and another warning of the end times probably...

Because Izuku Midoriya wasn’t here as a result of Katsuki Bakugou’s stubborn pettiness even amidst a probable apocalypse prevented him from inviting his rival, no…

No, Midoriya wasn’t here because the meeting was about Izuku Midoriya.

Izuku Midoriya’s birthday, to be exact.

“What the..?” Eijirou said after a while, beginning to speak Bakugou’s language because everyone else was confused with a dash of fear into silence.

“What?” Bakugou drawled like they didn’t just enter the twilight zone. “Are you all deaf?”

Or, A Secret Relationship fic, a birthday fic that's months late and a fic that might make you feel a little too much, all wrapped up in one and narrated by Red Riot himself.

A Father’s Perspective - 9.6k, single chapter author: Kalira fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Sokka/Zukko

What Hakoda sees when he watches his son, from after his rescue from the Boiling Rock to beyond the end of the Great War.

A Forget-Me-Not Morning - 1k, single chapter author: charliebrdcherry fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Hank Anderson. Sorry – Lieutenant Anderson. Hard-boiled detective of age fifty-three that doesn’t get along with his colleagues at work or half of the neighborhood, yells at birds on the street to move out of the way when he’s driving and sends postcards to his next-door neighbor to tell him to keep his damn water hose off at night – no, a big goddamn softy at heart.

a house made a home - 1.2k, single chapter author: todorokitops fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Dabi/Hawks

His eyes skip over their comfortable position, an excited smile quirking at his lips. “So I take it we’re cuddling today?”

Dabi shrugs, best as he can with Tomura still latched around his body. “Well, Handyman here decided to choose today to be more of a clingy bitch than usual, so it’s not like we got much choice.”

In which Tomura wants attention, and if that means he has to sit directly on Dabi's lap to get some, then so be it.

A Life of Bliss - 652, single chapter author: tobiosbae fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio

Hajime laughs when he hears Tobio yell, “Is it done yet?!” He answers back with a firm no. God, he thinks, I love that impatient idiot. He gets to work because he knows damn well that Tobio’s going to ask again, but it’s fine.

He loves Tobio, even though he’s an impatient piece of shit.

a long December - 7k, single chapter author: blackeyedblonde fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

If he’s meant to trust his gut, there’s no reason Sumo should’ve growled. The dog stands at his heels now, quiet but alert. Hank runs the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, chapped as it already is in this weather, and tries not to sound too hopeful when he utters a name he hasn’t spoken in too many weeks to count.

“Connor?”

A Sick Day - 1.1k, single chapter author: fromneptune fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu

When Asahi catches a cold, Noya makes it his mission to nurse him back to health (while somehow failing to keep their relationship a secret from the rest of the team).

A Thoughtful Painting - 1.7k, single chapter author: cryscendo fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: Tom Nook/Redd

Redd considered himself a fine husband. But Tom Nook’s birthday isn’t something to be treated lightly.

a thousand diamonds - 5.4k, single chapter author: alekszova fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Connor/Gavin Reed

the boys go on their honey moon.

A Trip to the Museum - 2k, single chapter author: Tinyvocaloid fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: CJ/Flick

Flick and C.J.'s daughter discovers her calling.

About Time - 3.8k, single chapter author: zuotian fandom: Naruto pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai, Gaara/Rock Lee

While attending Gaara and Lee's wedding, Kakashi and Gai come to a shocking realization.

All I Want Is You - 1.6k, single chapter author: alec_rhee fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen/Windsor

Henry, your package has been delivered.

He’s been waiting weeks for this notification. Realistically, he knows it’s only been a week or so since he made this order, but he’s been waiting so impatiently for it to arrive and it seemed to take forever to get here.

He runs up the spiral staircase of their brownstone home, he knows Alex will be home any minute from class, but he just has to look at how it turned out. He sits on the chaise in the bedroom and tears the plastic sleeve and there it is: a bandana for his beagle, David. The material is super soft and is a combination of colors: red, white, and blue. The words on the bandana is in a classic cursive font. The words displayed on the piece of cloth make him feel giddy: Will you marry my daddy?

All the Stars Are Closer - 2.3k, single chapter author: Boxstorm fandom: The Witcher pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier

"Come with me to Oxenfurt," Jaskier had said, tucked up against Geralt's chest in the moments before their parting for the winter.

"I can't," Geralt had replied, tightening his arms where they wrapped around Jaskier's shoulders in silent apology.

"Just for a day or two," Jaskier had insisted, pulling back just enough to look Geralt in the eyes, and giving him that hopeful look that they both know Geralt is unable to deny, "Please."

The pass to Kaer Morhen would not remain open for much longer, but faced with Jaskier's bright blue eyes, pleading for something that Geralt could so easily give, he had relented.

Jaskier's smile as he'd been pulled in for a gentle, acquiescing kiss had been worth whatever he might find on a late return to Kaer Morhen this year.

All the ways to say I love you - multi-chaptered, complete author: imaginary_dragonling fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Iwaizumi turns around in time to see Kageyama whip around like a started colt, guilt flashing across his face. The expression is fleeting, quick to disappear into the determined crease between Kageyama’s eyebrows, the familiar downturn of his lips.

Iwaizumi tries not to smile.

all you need - 901, single chapter author: mugengo fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki/Kirishima Eijirou

Strangers question Denki’s relationship with Eijirou and Katsuki all the time. Sometimes he gets self-conscious about it and needs a little reassurance.

alula haunting - 3k, single chapter author: faorism fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Through a haze of crisp leaves and chill-bleached grass, Sakura finds her youngest playing with a familiar crow.

Always All of You - 1.9k, single chapter author: keilotus fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Oikawa has a boyfriend. He just hasn't gotten round to telling anyone.

And He Finally Learned What Love and Kindness Meant - 10 work series, complete author: mushembra, Tamori fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Connor/Gavin Reed

Gavin finds it way too amusing that Connor has human needs, especially when he lets those needs go forgotten for too long. So he does what he does best; torments Connor in his time of desperation

But when the roles are reversed and Gavin finds himself bursting during a stakeout, all he expects is for karma to bite him in the ass

Turns out even he has the potential to be pleasantly surprised

TW: past child abuse, omorashi, PTSD flashbacks, dissociation, non-sexual age regression, implied child r*pe in a dream, Gavin is not okay but he’s getting there

Anderson - 419, single chapter author: Astrapod fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Connor/Gavin Reed

Gavin want’s something very specific from his marriage to Connor.

Are You Bored Yet? - 3.3k, single chapter author: lonelyghostie fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Kenma watches the sunset alone while walking home. No hand to hold on to. No teasings and laughter. No warmth and smiles.

No Kuroo Tetsurou to make his day.

At Camp - 5k, single chapter author: lunaloop fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Kenma doesn't know how to survive a week without Bokuto and Kuroo in Miyagi.

Attention Please - 957, single chapter author: Spring_Emerald fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi

‘Kuroo, stop,’ he mouthed.

That was the only response he would deign give Kuroo, at least that’s what he told himself. He glanced at Nekomata-sensei, who thankfully, was facing back, as he was writing something on the board, unaware that his very own captain was making a delinquent out of Daichi.

Kuroo had the nerve to smirk, before he mouthed ‘Make me,’ back at Daichi.

balance - 1.1k, single chapter author: tododoki fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Shouto has found his balance in a world of extremities. He’s discovered a beautiful sense of security in Izuku, and he plans to never let it go.

Barbwire Heart - 1.8k, single chapter author: conorssock fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor/RK900/Gavin Reed

Gavin acts like this isn't serious and doesn't want to get attached. He's trying to play it off and jokes about it. But inside he wants a family. They are on a call and Gavin pushes Hank out the way and gets shot. Has to be looked after. Is on meds that make him share stuff and act all cuddly.

Beans Are Spilled - multi-chaptered, complete author: rubysilk98 fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Oikawa Tooru/Yamaguchi Tadashi

When Takeda-sensei said there's a practice match between Karasuno and Aoba Johsai, Yamaguchi couldn't help but wonder how shit is about to go down. Since he's been dating the captain of Seijoh secretly, he's determined to not let the cat out of the bag. But maybe he doesn't have to. Not when Oikawa himself had done it.

because baby you are all i want - 1.7k, single chapter author: lunoiere fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

There are a few rustling sounds before the voice that could make him melt and cocoon him in warmth is finally heard. “Izuku?”

“It’s me, Shoucchan.” Izuku feels relief fills him in a rush. “How are you feeling?”

“I miss you,” comes the immediate response.

Izuku’s heart feels full and aching all at once. “I miss you too.”

[Or Shouto is sick and Izuku is too far away to hug him better.]

Because team-work will get us farther - multi-chaptered, ongoing author: Lerya fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito

A time travel fic, what if at the end of the 4th shinobi war, everyone not caught in the Tsukyomi gets blasted back to the past. What could possible go wrong when Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi wake up in their 12 and 28 year old bodies?

And even better, when Obito remembers everything and might just be able to persuade the Akatsuki to take a different path. Or even better, when the Bijuu wake up, with their Jinchuuriki alive and well, and with all the memories of their future self.

Only one thing will happen, the Jinchuuriki will band together, a group more tighter then even a Konoha team, with some surprising back up.

Beginning - multi-chaptered, complete author: Glare fandom: Star Wars pairing: NA

The fall of the Empire begins with a journal, clutched in the small hands of a six year-old girl.

Better Days - 1.2k, single chapter author: givemeunicorns fandom: Captain America pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers?Sam Wilson

They pile into Sam's car on a foggy Sunday morning, and hit the road as the sun climbed over the horizon. They kept off the interstate, stopped at mom and pop gas stations with a map spread out on the hood.

Birthday Breakfast - 1.2k, single chapter author: HMS_Chill fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen Windsor

It's Alex's birthday, and Henry is going to surprise him with breakfast in bed, and it's going to be beautiful and domestic and perfect.

Brekker’s Girls - 1.4k, single chapter author: wyrmsandrocs fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa/Nina Zenik

Kaz, Nina, and Inej sat together on a couch in the corner of the Crow Club. It had been the better part of a decade since the Ice Court Heist, (or the Heist Court, as Nina had named it,) and the three of them had found happiness with each other for most of that time. It was a lovely and all too rare occasion when both Nina and Inej were in Ketterdam for them all to be together, so they were enjoying watching what was a relatively slow night at the Club.

Brekker and his girls, and why not to call them that.

Bump - 5.4k, single chapter author: Blahhh, Feli_X fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor, RK900/Gavin Reed

Just fluffs of Mpreg Connor and Gavin getting baby fever after finding out

Canis Lupus Unfamiliaris - series, complete author: stabbitytuesday fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik

"You fight beside each other, sleep on the same furs, your rations are your wolf's rations. He is not your pet. He is a warrior, like you, a brother."

Matthias Helvar is laid to rest.

cat’s cradle - 2.8k, single chapter author: earlgreylover98 fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: NA

There were a lot of things unexpected about Fire Lord Zuko’s reign; his kind heart, his benevolence, his love of the arts and the theatre especially, but the cats topped that list. The cats gravitated to the Fire Lord and no one knew how to react to that. He was like a magnet to them.

Or- the Royal Palace has a cat infestation and the cats really seems to love the Fire Lord. It's a mutual feeling.

Change of Atmosphere - 820, single chapter author: Wordlesslywriting fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Sawamura Daichi/Kinoshita Hisashi

It never hurt to change scenery once in awhile.

Chief - 3.7k, single chapter author: lovewillcomeandfindme fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Bato/Hakoda

Bato is running late, he was supposed to be at the beach hours ago. This didn't bother Hakoda in the least, why would he care if his closest companion decided to leave them behind for a woman, for a life Hakoda could never give him. He didn't care if he was late, that's why he was waiting on the beach for him at an unforgiving hour of the night.

Cleaning Up - 3.3k, single chapter author: romaneedsatoma fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kuroo Tetsurou

Hinata glanced at Kuroo as he started sweeping, watching the older teen sweeping the other half of the gym. Hinata moved closer to the net. Glanced up again. He went to the wall. Glanced up again. Swept the area under the net. Glanced up again and finally gave in. “Tetsurō?” Hinata said, purposefully using his given name. Within seconds, Kuroo was on him and peppering kisses across his face, making him squirm and let out a high pitched laugh.

---

or, in which hinata and kuroo are secretly dating, and make out for an hour instead of cleaning up the gym after a scrimmage.

Cloud 9 - 370, single chapter author:peenklemonade fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Hinata Shouyou

Just Kuroo being absolutely weak for his boyfriend, and really, who can blame him? Especially with all the good points he brings up.

Come Let Me Love You - 899, single chapter author: Beck17 fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Henry always struggled to have a good night's sleep. Alex made it easier over the years they had been together, but little cries in the middle of the night always woke Henry.

A little glimpse into a future where Alex and Henry are doting fathers to a beautiful little girl.

Come What May - 1.2k, single chapter author: Faiktra fandom: Naruto pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Late Night Anxieties: Feat. Hatake Kakashi

Complimentary Colors - 1.6k, single chapter author: SaraBee fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Orange and blue go together for a reason.

Daft Punk Is Playing At My House (My House) - 1.5k, single chapter author: lumbeam fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Connor listens to Hank's old music and finally understands.

Days and Nights We Lost to Weakness - 3.1k, single chapter author: Kirazalea fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Sokka/Zuko

Zuko never wanted to visit his father's cell again, but he needs to do it one more time. He's spent far too much of his life living in fear of the man that controlled his every decision and now he's finally ready to say something he should have said a long time ago.

dear mother - 1.6k, single chapter author: goldenthunderstorms fandom: The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue pairing: Henry Montague/Percy Newton

Monty writes a different letter.

Dirty Hit - 6.7k, single chapter author: venvephe fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Four minutes left in the second period, Connor goes down to a bad hit. Head-collision-against-the-boards down. Not-getting-off-the-ice down. Blue-blood-pouring-out-his-nose down.

It’s when he’s shakily on his own skates, each arm slung over his teammates’ shoulders, that he thinks to look up and see the source of all the sudden noise. Something twists in his gut, something that has absolutely nothing to do with the injuries from that nasty hit.

It’s Hank. Of course it’s Hank.

Do You Realize? - 5k, single chapter author: beaniek4 fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki

Bakugo wouldn’t consider himself to be overly protective of those he actually gave a shit about. But when Kaminari speed-walked past him with fresh tears spilling down his face, Bakugo couldn’t help the wave of protectiveness that coursed through his being.

Don’t Look Down - 4.3k, single chapter author: LessonsFromMoths fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Takeda Iitetsu/Ukai Kenshin

So wait...are Ukai and Takeda...a thing????

Aka, Ukai and Takeda are supposed to be just their coach and advisor but the team realizes, one-by-one, that they are in a romantic relationship.

electrify my heart - 2.4k, single chapter author: soullessfollower98 fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Sokka/Zuko

5 times that Sokka records Boyfriend Challenges for his TikTok, +1 time that Zuko does (or tries to, anyway).

entangled hands and skin - 2.3k, single chapter author: gochumilk fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Hearing the familiar sound of their apartment door opening and Deku’s soft voice calling out “I’m home” immediately drags out a sigh of relief from Katsuki.

“Welcome home, nerd,” Katsuki says, deliberately clearing his throat when he realizes his voice comes out too softly.

(or quirkless katsuki pampers his pro hero boyfriend, deku)

Expense Report - 1.6k, single chapter author: Masu_Trout fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Fowler had a vaguely shell-shocked sort of look on his face. Hank knew it well; it was the same look he occasionally wore while staring in the mirror, on mornings when he couldn't stop thinking about just how goddamn weird his life had become these past few months.

Captain Fowler has some questions about Hank's expense account. Connor isn't helping.

Family Reunion - 2.8k, single chapter author: pynkk fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Dabi/Hawks, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

“Who ate all the leftovers?”

Shouto looks towards the television and keeps his eye on it. “Who ate my brother's ass?” Natsuo burst out laughing and Izuku choked on his tea, coughing on it. Keigo took in a sharp breath before shutting the fridge door. “Alright.”

Five Plus One - 1.3k, single chapter author: Xachyn fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Five times other people thought they were dating and one time Kageyama wondered if they were.

five times henry's competency turned alex on and the one time it turned him into a pile of romantic goo - 4.3k, single chapter author: helenblqckthorn fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Alex has a fucking thing for competency. A competency kink, if he wants to be crude. And it just so happens that his boyfriend is one of the most competent men in England. Well, Alex, he thinks. You sure know how to pick ‘em.

Footprints in the Sand - 2k, single chapter author: stripeypirate fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

He stops walking when he reaches the ocean. The surf pounding steadily against the rocks echoes his heatbeat and the salty wind whispers his brother’s name. It reminds him of the day Obito told him the truth-wrapped-in-lies that sent him spinning down into depths darker than he’d thought possible. A good place to rebuild- no, build. Because to rebuild there must have been a foundation in the first place, and Sasuke has been realizing more with each passing day that his was rotten from the start.

So he sets up camp right there on the sand and spends the first night staring up at the stars, whose names he’s long forgotten.

forgetful- 2.2k, single chapter author: peachiami fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki

Denki has been waiting for thirty minutes now. Eyes flying to his phone quite literally every two seconds, his leg bouncing up and down as he leaned his chin on his palm. Did Katsuki forget?

Fragile Trust - 2k, single chapter author: TheManOfManyFandoms fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: NA

Zuko doesn’t react well to fathers raising their voices. Hakoda learns this the hard way.

frilly pink apron - 2.9k, single chapter author: novrik fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

kuroo loves to be embarrassing. there's literally no other reason why he'd walk onto stream wearing nothing but a fucking frilly pink apron and sweats where you can see all of his goddamn upper body.

From Tokyo and Osaka, With Love - 8.2k, single chapter author: awkwardedgeworth fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou

He frowns at Bokuto, mouthing, "Did you break into the library building?"

"Hey!" Someone shines a flashlight in their direction, pacing furiously, "You can't be here after hours if you don't have an ID!"

Bokuto laughs nervously.

akaashi and his birthdays from 17-21, or five years' worth of birthdays spent with bokuto

Getting Even - 2.1k, single chapter author: Kalira fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

All grown up now and ninja in deadly earnest . . . the old Team Seven still dissolves into reckless playfulness in a fresh snow.

give them something to talk about - 1.8k, single chapter author: thelittlebirdthattoldyou fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

“Huh. Oikawa is making his way over to the losing side of the court - is he planning to rub it in their faces? Maybe someone should stop him -”

“But he’s passing the players by entirely! And heading for -”

“Are we going to get a childhood besties reunion up in here?”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa's Olympics reunion, as told through the eyes of two excitable sportscasters.

Green Walls - 1.1k, single chapter author: romeoandjulietyouwish fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck

Jesper finds Wylan sitting in the garden in the middle of the night.

Growing Pains - multi-chapter, complete author: callmecaramleh fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Sokka/Zuko, Bato/Hakoda

Sokka brings Zuko home to re-meet his dad.

hayloft - 836, single chapter author: sanguination fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

for all the boys who break their own hearts

TW: blood, depression, no self harm though

Heart of War - 1.6k, single chapter author: Naomida fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey pairing: Alexios/Thaletas

The gods don't play by the rules.

Heaven in Me - 255 author: j_gabrielle fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

It hits Hank on a lazy Sunday morning.

his boyfriend - 816, single chapter author: bestboytsukki fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei

tsukishima never really envisioned getting in bed with a particular raven haired boy in which, as a matter of fact, the boy whose guts and pride he hated, or so he thought.

home - 1.8k, single chapter author: getloud fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kageyama Tobio/Sugawara Koushi

“Tobio,” Koushi placed his hands by collar of Tobio’s hoodie. “It’s okay if you find yourself lost every once in a while.” Tobio’s breath hitched as he stared back at Koushi. “You can always come back home. I’ll always be here.” A small, weak smile spread on Koushi’s face.

Homecoming - 1.9k, single chapter author: castiel_ambrose fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey pairing: Alexios/Thaletas

He was so engrossed he barely heard the man’s voice behind him until a hand accompanied it, hesitant but warm and calloused as it rested on his arm. “Alexios?”

Out of instinct Alexios spun around and grabbed the man’s wrist, bewildered but warning filled glare melting away to complete shock. “Thaletas?” He could scarcely breathe it out, eyes roving over the man in front of him before he was pulled into a tight hug, a hand thumping his shoulder. He was helpless to do anything but hug back, feeling the press of steel and leather against him. “Alexios, dear Gods, it’s wonderful to see you." --- Thaletas meets up with Alexios on his first journey home to Sparta

hope, coffee, and poetry - 2k, single chapter author: DizzyRedhead fandom: Check, Please! pairing: Chris Chow/Derek Nurse/William Poindexter

Nursey and Dex have a crush

how to make a setter blush - 8k, single chapter author: bokutochan fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou

“Alright, remember, the only unofficial rule that we officially follow is that we make no serious passes at Akaashi.” Kuroo makes clear. Everyone nods in agreement, even Ushijima. Kuroo winks at Bokuto. “After all, Bokuto needs as little competition as possible.” Bokuto squawks and Daichi holds him back again from doing something to Kuroo. “And, as always, the game is a complete secret, under no circumstances can Akaashi know about this. If Suga finds out you’ve been cheating, you’re on your own. Daichi won’t be there to stop him.” Kuroo smirks. He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the other four captains. “So,” He says finally. “Shall we begin?”

or the one where the five captains compete to make akaashi blush. that's it.

I don't need me - 4.8k, single chapter author: earlgreyson fandom: Kingsman pairing: Harry Hart/Merlin/Eggsy Unwin

There’s more that he wants than a soft blanket and a warm drink, but there’s not much Eggsy can do to meet those needs so he shoves them down. Hopes he can go see Mum and Daisy in the next few days and get some cuddles in with his favourite girl. There is an itch that has been hovering beneath his skin for as long as he can recall, and he knows that a quick snuggle with a struggling child is not going to relieve it. But there’s not much else in terms of an option, so Eggsy will take what he can get and be thankful for it. Eggsy returns from a mission to find himself confronted by Merlin and Harry. Now if he can only ask for what he needs.

I Want to Kiss You When You're Hard - 7.5k, single chapter author: Logsnake fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Kaminari Denki/Kirishima Eijirou

Denki had had a lot of crushes growing up, but none as strong as the one for Kirishima. The redhead was just so perfect, and while Denki knew his friend was way out of his league, he couldn't help but hope.

Of course, during a test Denki just had to over do it on his quirk, leaving him a stupid, incoherent mess right in front of said crush. Furthermore, to add icing to the cake, he had mumbled out 'I want to kiss when you're hard' to Kirishima without any context before running away in embarrassment.

Seriously, who had he offended in his past life?

(AKA: Denki's a gay mess, Kirishima is an oblivious, sexy rock, and all of their friends are just done.)

I Was Pledged to You, To You I Pledge Myself - 9.5k, single chapter author: anarchycox fandom: The Witcher pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier

When he is four, Jaskier escapes out his window to avoid a boring family dinner where his cousin was getting betrothed to someone. He just wanted to hear the frogs. Frogs sound neat.

That daring escape, and the rescue that it required changed his whole fate, because he was the one who ended up betrothed to a witcher - the plan to marry when he was 20. He didn't really care he got to hear the frogs croak, what did he care about this Geralt of Rivia?

As he grows up though, he ends up caring a great deal.

Scenes from Jaskier's life of meeting every witcher but his betrothed, until one day in a shitty tavern, he finally meets Geralt.

In sickness and in health - 4.9k, single chapter author: The_Crafty_Cracker fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Izuku get's sick and Katsuki takes care of him...

Or well he would do if all the other extra's in his class stop intervening!

Also why the hell do they think that Glasses or worse, that bastard Todorki would be better at taking care of Deku then him?!

Iron and Flowers - 4.6k, single chapter author: Heronfem fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Yachi Hitoka spends an interesting week at the Shinzen training camp, and makes an unexpected friend.

Irregular Maintenance - 3.9k, single chapter author: ThatScottishShipper fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

When Connor gets hurt in the field, Hank reveals a secret talent of his... and Connor’s insecurities about being “just a machine” worsen.

It Was A Secret? - 1.7k, single chapter author: marcymoosh fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Akaashi and Bokuto didn't necessarily keep it a secret, they just didn't publicly announce it.

They didn't need to, right?

i'll be your shelter, i'll be your storm - 1.2k, single chapter author: raggirare fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Yamamoto Taketora/Daishou Suguru

Kisses are the best kind of medicine.

I'll Love You From Dusk Till Dawn - 2k, single chapter author: K_booklover98 fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: CJ/Flick

Flick hates having to sleep without C.J. Luckily for him, phones exist.

I'll See You This Weekend Right? - multi-chapter, complete author: JayLightnStrike fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru

It’s true that Oikawa has girls lining up to get a chance to even talk to him. And yet, he can’t stop thinking about that little ball of sunshine that follows Tobio-chan around. Hinata, on the other hand, just wants to know what spiking a toss from the Great King is like. The solution? Weekend practices!

.....This is a really bad idea and Oikawa knows it.

i’m secretly on your side - 2.5k, single chapter author: stellarisms fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

It’s impossible, Kageyama learns at fifteen years old, to figure out someone like Hinata.

I've Been Calling Your Name Into The Universe - 1.7k, single chapter author: KiwiTyTy fandom: Assassin’s Creed Valhalla pairing: Eivor/Hytham

Watching from across the table, Eivor’s breath caught in his chest; Hytham was beautiful. Eivor had known that for a long, in fact, he had first noticed him during their meeting in Norway. As full of distrust as that time had been, Eivor could not deny he had been slightly taken by the other man.

i've got a crush (on you) - 2.1k, single chapter author: allmywill fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson/Connor

Gavin’s got a nasty crush on Nines, which leads him to do something he’s never dreamt of doing: he seeks Hank and Connor for advice.

Kuroo, Kuro, Tetsurou, or love of my life? - 1.5k, single chapter author: no0emie fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

First time Kenma called his best friend Kuro, and one time he got tired of using that nickname.

Let’s Be Alone Together - 1.3k, single chapter author: BulletproofFurniture fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Hank has a bad day at work.

lions and men - 1.5k, single chapter author: lucio fandom: The Song of Achilles pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Achilles finds out why Patroclus was so late to join him in Elysium, and he is not best pleased.

Little Crow - multi-chapter, complete author: vsulli fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik

A lot of different people show up to the Slat looking for a job or just for solitude. The slat offered a home to grown men in trouble with the law and teenagers who have too many debts to pay. When the dregs open the door one day and see a cradle, offering only a note for explanation will their leader take the baby in or throw her back to let Ketterdam have it’s way with her?

aka a baby shows up at the Slat and everyone is Shook

Love: A Trait of Humanity - 944, single chapter author: Arrestzelle fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

During a snowy evening at home, Hank finds himself content when reading from one of his treasured books, with Connor keeping him company. Maybe Hank is getting a little soft. Maybe.

Love me, Hold Me, Never Let Me Go - 3.8k, single chapter author: K_Booklover98 fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: CJ/Flick

Sometimes Flick just needs some extra cuddles.

lover, be good to me - 3.2k, single chapter author: shadowhokage fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: Sokka/Zukko

Sokka has an affinity for pet names.

(Spoiler: It’s contagious.)

Lovesick - 6.1k, single chapter author: xmasmurdereve fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Connor is sick, Hank finds it extremely amusing.

lowkey - 2k, single chapter author: arxhabaki fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi

Atsumu kisses the jealousy (and the daylights) out of Kiyoomi.

Many Happy Returns - 1.8k, single chapter author: gottageekout fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

In which Connor is a champion at office birthday parties, but never actually decided on a birthday himself.

Midnight Escapade - 2.5k, single chapter author: kagezai fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

“Careful, Tobio-chan! Wouldn’t want you falling onto that pretty face of yours.”

Oikawa smirked as he hoisted the raven haired boy up onto the roof of his house, gripping his shoulders tightly so he could step over the ledge safely to where the brunette was waiting.

Midnight Melancholy - 1k, single chapter author: Kalira fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Sometimes the dark memories and crimson-lit what-might-have-beens get to Sasuke, but at least he doesn't have to face them alone. (Or he wouldn't, if only he would stop slipping out of bed in the middle of the night to brood on his own. . .)

Molten Dreams of Amber - 7.7k, single chapter author: Bokeijis_Ig fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou

Training camp, a very sick Akaashi, a giant storm, no power, everyone is freaking out. . .

What could possibly go wrong?

My Funny Hunny - 2.3k, single chapter author: ThatScottishShipper fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Fill from the DBH Kink Meme from the anonymous prompt:

Hank/Connor, accidental pet name Connor accidentally calls Hank a pet name in the station. He then proceeds to cover himself by playing it off as a software bug, by referring to literally everyone in the precinct as ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘sugarplum’ etc.

Nijinsky, V. (1913) The Rite of Spring. [Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, Paris. 29 May 1913.] - 16k, single chapter author: weekends fandom: The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue pairing: Henry Montague/Percy Newton

Titled after the ballet that was received with a riot of projectile vegetables and French jeering, only to become the turning point for modernist music history. Don't worry, no one dances themselves to death in this fic — that's just one of Percy's assignments — but there is a great deal of irreverence involving a pen, a violin, and a cupcake on several occasions.

In short, Monty meets Percy at a cafe.

Not just harsh and mean. - 566, single chapter author: m3m3_qu33n fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

To most people, Katsuki Bakugo could be seen as harsh, mean, and easy to anger. But what most people didn’t know was how sweet and caring the blonde truly was. And only one person knew this kind side of him.

Odd Frog Out - 2.8k, single chapter author: Denois fandom: Check, Please! pairing: Chris Chow/Derek Nurse/William Poindexter, Chris Chow/Caitlin Farmer

Samwell is basically everything Will wanted it to be. There’s one little problem. That would be that his amazing, wonderful, best friends are also… well, they’re really hot. And sweet and kind and charming. And a good dancer (Nursey) and amazingly flexible (Chowder) and they’re both just everything Will could want in a boyfriend. But he’s not about to choose between them. So he says nothing. Then Nursey and Chowder start dating.

of naps and sunsets - 548, single chapter author: guysnatistired fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

it's rlly just hinata and kageyama being soft and cuddling for 500 words. being dumb gay bitches that are fucking *whipped* for each other.

Oh, Dearest - 1.7k, single chapter author: Greekgeekofmlp fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Hinata absentmindedly brushed his hand by his eyes, a small frown etched on his lips, and his fingers went to wrangle through his orange curls. His eyes were glazed over, looking at the floor but not really seeing it. The expression looked so foreign on Hinata, and Tobio wanted nothing more than to wipe it away with just about anything.

"What's wrong, dumbass?"

"Kags," Hinata glanced at him, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Kageyama wasn't expecting that.

Or...

Hinata gets really self conscious about how he looks-- and it's not even about his height this time.

Good Boyfriend Kageyama TM does something about it.

Ol' Faithful - 3.6k, single chapter author: lentilchip fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Here's me projecting all my longing and fascination for dogs onto one Connor, model RK800. It gets a little Too Real© at one point but it's mostly marshmallow fluff.

One Thousand Springs - 3.3k, single chapter author: cresserendipity fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Chiharu wants his Papa to stop getting sad.

It just so happens that Kenma apparently makes Kuroo very very happy.

One year older - 782, single chapter author: Chibbers fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Connor/Gavin Reed

A relaxing night at home, with minor teasing.

Open up your heart - 1.2k, single chapter author: virosodi fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Connor sings to plants and Hank has a soft heart.

our little vignette - 705, single chapter author: Flowerparrish fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

“You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

Parasite - multi-chaptered, complete author: Ghosty842 fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson & Connor

"Lieutenant Anderson?"

Hank jumped in his seat, spinning around to see who managed to sneak up on him. "Who wants to know?"

The young man in front of him had piercing brown eyes that instantly put him on edge for some reason. He looked like a regular alpha but there was something off about him. It took him a moment to realize it- He didn't have a scent.

"Hello Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I've been told we'll be working together."

---

Omegaverse AU where Connor is scentless

Patinoire - 1.1k, single chapter author: Charmsilver fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

It's winter in Paris an Henry and Alex are visiting on official state business. But that doesn't mean they can't have a romantic night together in the city of love.

Personal Touch - 2.6k, single chapter author: Svynakee fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

The new android equality laws means that Connor now gets paid. And he’s decided to treat himself with his new spending money: a little shopping date with his boyfriend Hank. There’s a whole new world opened up to Connor, freed from the restrictions of being CyberLife’s RK800 prototype. A world which includes android accessories that’ll add a bit of extra pizazz to his looks.

Too bad Hank’s too old school to appreciate it. Connor’s going to have a challenge, finding a look that pleases his grumpy lover.

Pieces - 1.8k, single chapter author: ceffeinefueledfeels fandom: Naruto pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Kakashi comes home from a mission, and just breaks. Of course, there's only one man who can pick up the pieces.

Play The Game - 1.2k, single chapter author: laurentknows fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

The papers get a little too much and Alex and Henry decide to play the game with them.

Please Don't Go, I Love You So - 3.4k, single chapter author: noahfics fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Kenma’s always known that there would be a time that his third-year boyfriend would be off to university, but that time was always far off. All too suddenly it became real, too abruptly and far too soon.

Pools of Gold - 1.1k, single chapter author: Cats_Obsession fandom: The Witcher pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier

On a recent visit to Oxenfurt University, Jaskier overhears his students discussing a poem he wrote long ago. Geralt would like to know what it's about; Jaskier shows him.

**Prism - multi-chaptered, complete author: HibiscusTea9 fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: Resident Rep/Walt

Adam’s move to a tropical island helps him come out of his shell. And the closet. And into the arms of half the village and a few visitors. This is a story about a resident rep who finds his island paradise and everything he was missing.

TW: referenced homophobia, depression, self-harm, sibling inc*st (wilbur/orville, 2 chapters that are not plot essential and easily skippable)

Pull Me In (Your Arms Again) - 1.7k, single chapter author: K_booklover98 fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: CJ/Flick

C.J. is in the middle of a stream, but that's when Flick needs him most.

Required Fields - 521, single chapter author: daisydiversions fandom: Letterkenny pairing: Jonesy/Reilly

Jonesy's got to fill out all these forms.

Roommates... Really? - 2.2k, single chapter author: Animillion fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Iawaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

Kageyama was a weird person in general, so sleeping with his roomates just added on to the list. And yea, he feels left out at times. But they add him in more than he ever expected.

Rose Gardens and Fevered Dreams - 2.8k, single chapter author: Miss_TeaDDK fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

"Izuku gasps as he shoots up out of bed, and immediately groans at the bright light piercing the room.... Real life smacks him in the face immediately. He’s not a teen prince in a beautiful rose garden at a lovely fountain with cool air. That would be too merciful. Instead he’s 25, covered in sweat, and a pro-hero- and he’s sick as all hell."

Overwork has left the super-husbands with fevers, but it's okay! They're pros- they can handle it! Except they can't, because they're disasters. It's up to the best moms in the world to save the day!

Route - 1.8k, single chapter author: neraxx fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

"Close your mouth and pack your things," The raven-haired male commanded, brushing past Sakura as he entered her bedroom. "We're leaving in an hour."

(In which, there are break-ins.)

Salvage - multi-chaptered, ongoing author: MuffinLance fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender pairing: NA

Mid-Season-One Zuko is held ransom by Chief Hakoda. Ozai's replies to the Water Tribe's demands are A+ Parenting. Hakoda is… deeply concerned, for this son that isn't his, and who might be safer among enemies than with his own father.

Seasons - 2.4k, single chapter author: amuk fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Kakashi had almost made a betting pool for how long their marriage would last—the only thing everyone could agree on was that it would be Naruto’s fault.

Shall We Dance - 1.8k, single chapter author: HMS_Chill fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Alex can dance. But Alex's dancing specialties are essentially limited to the Cupid Shuffle, the Cha-Cha Slide, and the Macarena. Henry has a whole different set of dancing skills, ones developed over centuries and passed down through royal bloodlines and crown-mandated childhood lessons. And, well, who wouldn't want to waltz with a prince?

Shining Bright - 2.9k, single chapter author: doylesmom fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Shouto and Izuku get married

Show Me Going - 2.5k, single chapter author: ProneToRelapse fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Connor responds to an active shooter situation. Hank worries. Gavin attempts decent interaction.

show me the real you (I won't look away) - 1.6k, single chapter author: Imiaslavie fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

The word 'plastic' has always had a funny taste in his mouth. 'Plastic' is cheap cellphones and ugly Barbie dolls and that grey dirty thing in the bathroom that holds the soap.

Connor is none of these things.

When Hank looks at him, he thinks of porcelain.

Silly Arguments and kisses - 1.3k, single chapter author: akuarose fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei

Basically secret relationship with petty payback and silly arguments with kisses

Skin Care - 778, single chapter author: lisaluu fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Bakugo has always had crystal clear skin. The girls want to know why.

Sleep Cycle - 551, single chapter author: Sassy_Dinosaur fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Androids don’t need to sleep per se. However, they can imitate human sleep cycles to better fit into a household. Like Connor.

Sleepless - 1.3k, single chapter author: viola_rae10 fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck

Despite the late, or early, rather, hour in the day, Kaz was awake. To calm his never-resting mind, he decides to wander around the Slat and check up on his associates.

sleepy chats - 620, single chapter author: loudwalls fandom: Merlin pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“i’m going to marry you one day.”

so hold me, lover - 472, single chapter author: xylene fandom: The Witcher pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier

just 400 words of jaskier loving geralt ft. affectionate geralt

Softly, Now, I Have You - 1.2k, single chapter author: ProneToRelapse fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Hank helps Connor indulge in something simple that, to him, means so much more than that.

Soothing - 2.2k, single chapter author: yeaka fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Connor knows Hank has trouble sleeping.

Speaking my Language - 2.3k, single chapter author: HMS_Chill fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry-Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Prompt: "Alex always saying sweet things to Henry in Spanish but won't tell him what any of it means, and he's always google translating them and awe-ing at how cute Alex is and then like maybe he learns how to say something adorable to and says it to Alex and Alex just like melts or something"

Spring Secrets - 3.8k, single chapter author: DeathBelle fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou

They stared down at the city lights below, dotted along the sidewalks and blurring by with passing cars. There was another hotel right across the street, and although most of the windows were dark, a scattered few glowed. Osamu wondered if the people inside were sitting awake too.

“Osamu.”

He turned his head and Suna was there, waiting. His mouth found Osamu’s and his lips were a little cold. Suna kissed him, and Osamu forgot about the tournament, about winning, about everything. It didn’t seem as important here on the roof, holding Suna’s hand and sharing a wind-chilled kiss.

Suna pulled away, and Osamu said, “We should tell ‘em.”

Suna sighed and slouched a little further over the rail. “How about… after the tournament. After we win, we’ll tell them. Everyone will be so happy that they won’t care what we’re doing.”

“Okay,” said Osamu. “When they give us the trophy, I’m just gonna kiss ya right there in front of everybody. That’ll be us tellin’ ‘em.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Suna. There was a spark in his eyes, a little amused, a little daring. “Prove me wrong.”

stop the world - 433, single chapter author: NA fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck

When Wylan smiled, Jesper felt like anything was possible.

Strawberries - 2.3k, single chapter author: Mushy fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

What brought him here? To this rusty and run down park at - His phone screen illuminated his face as he checked the time - 2am? To be honest he didn't know, no one did. Hell, I don’t even know. Maybe it was something new, or perhaps something old. Maybe it was the fact that he had lived alone for the majority of his life with no solid parental figure. Maybe it was because the corner shop ran out of his favourite milk and that had pushed everything to the edge.

TW: depression, implied starvation, panic attacks

stray code - 4.k, single chapter author: sushicorps fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

In Connor’s mind, it is simple: Hank has Sumo. Connor? Connor has Bob.

“Connor, what the hell is th-...is that a roomba ?”

Summer Time - 4k, single chapter author: sailboatsupernova fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: Brewster/Blathers

"The way that he said it; 'I really am fine' made Brewster wonder just who he was trying to convince in the situation- the coffee brewer or himself."

When the museum workers plan on taking a trip to the beach some problems arise that need to be taken care of.

TW: body image issues

Summer, summer - 4.1k, single chapter author: Xachyn fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Five minutes later, they shared a bag of candy between them as they walked. The bag was nestled in the basket of Hinata’s bicycle, and the sweets were every bit as lovely as they imagined it to be. Kageyama wondered if Hinata walked past the sweet shop with such pining in his eyes everyday, and was distracted by the way Hinata sucked on his fingers to get the sugar dust out.

Sunshine - 3.8k, single chapter author: a_perverted_squid fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson/Connor

Cole had been sick for a while. It was the flu season and, unfortunately, he was one of the unlucky ones. He got better as time passed, but still wasn’t allowed outside. Connor asked Niles if would be so kind to look after him while he and Hank went out to deal with some personal business. Niles instantly agreed; he loved children. He loved Cole, no, he adored Cole.

take on me (take me on) - 1.6k, single chapter author: owilde fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

“It didn’t put on a show this morning?” Hank asked, nodding his head towards the coffee machine.“No.” Connor grinned. “I think it likes me.”“Likes you,” Hank echoed. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

that we may fall in love (every time we open up our eyes) - 3.6k, single chapter author: ningcore fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

“Uuuhg” Katsuki groans. Mina decides to step a little closer, to see what they are doing “but Deku…” he sounds like he’s pouting but that’s impossible, Bakubro only has two default facial expressions, frowning and grinning like a maniac.

Some of Katsuki's nicknames for Izuku. And also how other people see them

that's the way it should be - 2.6k, single chapter author: hanwritesstuff fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

“Oh, sweetheart.” Inko lets go for a second, only to hug Shouto tight. “You were a member of this family the second you walked through that door.”

The Art of Subtlety - 3.6k, single chapter author: aresmisia_HQ fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

It's not too bad, and Shouyou admits, there's a different kind of thrill being involved in a secret relationship. It's in the little, knowing smiles they give each other; Kageyama's lingering touches when he ruffles Shouyou's hair, fingers lightly tracing his ear when he retracts his hand; the constant roughhousing and bickering done mostly as an excuse to touch without raising suspicion; sleeping against each on bus rides, their hands linked and hidden out of sight under their jackets and bags. Once or twice, they get away with stealing small kisses when they're absolutely sure everyone is asleep.

Maybe they're not doing so well with the no touching or kissing rule but holding back has never been in their forte in the first place.

Keeping his romantic relationship with his supposed rival a secret has been a great struggle for Hinata, but Kageyama is there to help him through it. Or make it even more difficult.

The Bed (Where We Rest) - 3.1k, single chapter author: Brookelocks fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

The center of their bed is definitely the softest spot, it has the most give and seems to mold itself to your body. But that isn't what makes it his favorite spot, no, the best thing about being placed between Sakura and Naruto is the physical contact. The way that Naruto's chest is plastered to his back, the blondes nose pressed gently into Sasuke's neck, strong arms wound around his waist. The way that Sakura traces soft patterns across Sasuke's chest as she falls asleep, how her legs tangle with his beneath the covers, when she nuzzles into his shoulder while muttering softly, how her hair tickles his nose and he can faintly smell the floral shampoo that is just so Sakura. How he can feel Naruto's heart beating against his back, how he becomes aware of every breath Sakura takes as she exhales into his skin.

Just a bunch of little snippets about bed sharing.

The birds, the flowers and the trees - 1.7k, single chapter author: virosodi fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Hank and Connor go hiking and fall in love even more.

The Blessing of Anteros - 4k, single chapter author: softestpunk fandom: Assassin’s Creed Odyssey pairing: Alexios/Alkibiades

After the events surrounding the Olympics, Alexios and Alkibiades rest, recover, and reflect on what they mean to each other in the light of everything that happened.

The Lake House Revisited - Desert Night Mix - 9.9k, single chapter author: Losemyhead fandom: Red White & Royal Blue pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Last time Alex and Henry came to the lake house, things went spectacularly bad for Alex. A year later, Alex and Henry spend five romantic days at the lake house and Alex has to sort through some unresolved issues. Also, June is bored and does something stupid.

the love that's settled in my soul - 1.1k, single chapter author: kuroozume fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Is there anything better than waking up next to the light of your life with the knowledge that you're happy, secure, and loved?

A day in the life of Kenma Kozume.

the mortality of patroclus - 397, single chapter author: necklace fandom: The Song of Achilles pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

(the stars laugh at him. pat is so drunk.)

The One With one kiss too many - 461, single chapter author: anotherbird fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Six months. They made if through six months without their co-workers knowing.

What a great time to make a stupid decision.

the pretty one - 4.7k, single chapter author: theformerone fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Kakashi is maybe ten seconds too late to redirect the assassination techniques.

Sakura leaps in between them because those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.

The Sun and The Moon - 2k, single chapter author: akuarose fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei

A small look into Hinata's and Tsukishima's life.

The Words "I Love You" - 4.8k, single chapter author: sushihara_shuichi fandom: Boku no Hero Academia pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

A 5 + 1 Things documenting the five times Izuku told Katsuki “I love you” and the one time Katsuki said it back.

The Workings of Many - multi-chaptered, complete author: ShadowTrooper414 fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor/RK900/Gavin Reed

Nines's curiosity about Gavin's aggression towards Connor and Hank lead to him asking some questions. He comes up with a plan to get them to get along. It goes better than expected.

A series of connected HankVin1700 oneshots.

The Wraith is Here - 1.3k, single chapter author: stressedoutteenager fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa

Kaz and Inej meet for the first time after Inej has left on The Wraith.

There, I said it - 510, single chapter author: honorablementioned fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

“Do you want to go down to the court house later?”

Connor blinks, LED spinning yellow. “Is there something we need to do for work?”

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Hank realizes something this morning. He wants to get married to Connor.

they're kinda clammy - 531, single chapter author: cruciifyme fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei

For the prompt in my askbox on tumblr: "tsukikage - when they first hold hands"

This Wasn't the Plan - 5.3k, single chapter author: HomeForImaginaryFriends fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi

Kuroo is sick of the lies. All he wants to do is wear his wedding ring and go out on a date with his husband but nothing is ever that simple

Three Times the Charm - 3.4k, single chapter author: todxrxki fandom: Haikyuu!! pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Kotarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Kodzuken #1 Fan @Kodzuken1Fan 3h hi all, has anyone noticed that kodzuken seems happier than usual in his recent videos?? it can’t just be me… do you think he’s had a change in his life recently?

Hina @kenmafan321 3h @Kodzuken1Fan Honestly I agree with you!! I think that Kodzuken might have a girlfriend though… or a boyfriend!! <3 / In which Kenma's viewers try to figure out whether he's dating Kuroo, Bokuto, or Akaashi... but are completely approaching the problem the wrong way.

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Before Wylan even realized it, he had begun to replace "Kaz" with "Dad".

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Trial and Error - 4.4k, single chapter author: Majinie fandom: Hamilton pairing: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan

“No, you don't get a say in this,” John snapped sharply, eyes flashing, “you don't get to play counsellor, you don't even wanna be in this relationship.”

Herc stared at him as though he'd been struck. “I'm sorry?”

The scowl etched into John's face deepened. “Oh please, don't give me that, you couldn't make it more obvious you're only here for Laf if you fucking tattooed it on your forehead.”

---

In which Alex attempts to ease Hercules into the world of polyamory, John is insecure and Herc is a little lost.

two lovers at dawn - 797, single chapter author: awkwardspaceturtle fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Just a normal morning in the Anderson household.

Underneath the Mistletoe Last Night - 2.7k, single chapter author: scp116 fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

Hank sneered, crossing his arms. “Why did I agree to be Santa again?” “Because you're perfect for it, you love Cole, and you love me.”

unique like that - 1.1k, single chapter author: hiinawarii fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Hank Anderson/Connor

“You’re rubbing on me like a cat,” Hank grumbles.

“Actually, Hank,” Connor starts, earning himself a groan as he chuckles against Hank’s neck, “cats rub on objects, animals, and humans as a way to spread their scents, as their scent glands are stored in the pockets of their cheeks.”

-or, hank and connor cuddle, discuss animal behavior, and get visited by an animal of their own.

Unofficially Official - 923, single chapter author: teacup_tyrant fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa

In which Kaz serves Inej some papers. All in the legal sense, of course.

Very Good Advice - 2.3k, single chapter author: AriMarris fandom: Star Wars pairing: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo

“Have you tried floating a pear? It worked on your mother.”

---

In which a young Luke Skywalker looks to his redeemed father for advice on how to woo one Han Solo.

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Their roles are usually reversed. Frankly, Kakashi would rather it stay that way.

waiting for a sign - 2.7k, single chapter author: ShowMeAHero fandom: Star Wars pairing: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo

“Have you seen Mom anywhere?” Luke asks, leaning in his father’s office doorway.

“No, why?” Anakin replies, head bowed over his work. Luke sighs, blowing up harshly to displace the hair falling across his forehead.

“I need advice and Leia’s in an exam,” Luke says. He pushes off the doorway and says, “Never mind, I’ll just—”

“I can help you,” Anakin tells him.

want anybody else but you - 1.2k, single chapter author: rathalos fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Naruto is fifteen years old, and he is a new chūnin, and his teammates stand beside him on top of the head of the Yondaime Hokage, and they watch color bleed into and out of the sky and it's breaths taken in the middle of the night, it's the rise and fall of Sakura's chest as she draws in love and exhales peace, it's the slow, lazy blink of Sasuke's eyes when he's too sleepy to respond to anyone properly.

Warmth - 868, single chapter author: sentimentalscribe fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck

A late-night reading session involving two very sleepy boys in love.

we are all just stars (that have people names) - 1.7k, single chapter author: willssoulace fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa

Kaz and Inej find a moment of peace and they decide to let down their defenses under a night full of stars.

We Will Be Ok - 1.1k, single chapter author: DragonTears717 fandom: Given pairing: Satou Mafuyu/Uenoyama Ritsuka

Uenoyama hates feeling secondary to someone. He had devoted so much time to the guitar and music so he wouldn’t have to feel secondary to anyone. Uenoyama also hates feeling worthless or useless.

Despite no longer being alive Yuki constantly makes him feel like that.

When Is a Man Deserving (of love)? - 6.1k, single chapter author: widdlewed fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Sasuke doesn't believe he deserves love. Sakura and Naruto have something to say about that.

Wherever You Are - 1.8k, single chapter author: berryblonde fandom: Detroit: Become Human pairing: Connor/Gavin Reed

It was a cruel trick of fate for Connor to be so suddenly, unfairly, mercilessly ripped from him like this.

Wingless Flight - 4.3k, single chapter author: Brekkfast fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa

Kaz goes to see Inej again, and offers to take her to the Suli carnival. They go see the Jackal, eat dumplings, and see the Suli acrobats!! Pure fluff!! And Kaz is a soft idiot and Inej keeps shaking her head at him.

worlds apart - 3.5k, single chapter author: reddnooks fandom: Pokemon pairing: Green/Red

Green visits Red on Mount Silver after eight years of not seeing him.

you got to be kitten me - 3.4k, single chapter author: probably fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

sasuke is bad at listening and good at playing with his food. naruto and sakura think its cute and endearing but also kind of gross.

you make me feel brand new (orbit) - 1.6k, single chapter author: rathalos fandom: Naruto pairing: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

His next words go unspoken, but he knows that he doesn’t need to say them out loud for Naruto and Sakura to understand: “Here with you."

In which Sasuke returns to the village after two years of a much-needed break, and Naruto and Sakura are still the people he left behind. Stronger, maybe—surer, maybe—but still the same.

You're doing fine - 1.5k, single chapter author: Pastapooper fandom: Animal Crossing pairing: Apollo/Reader

Not being able to sleep because you're being kept up by anxiety and worries isn't fun. Apollo helps you feel better by showing you around town at 3 am.

#dbh #detroit become human #hannor #naruto #haikyuu!!#hq!!#the witcher #geraskier #six of crows #crooked kingdom #star wars #bnha #IT'S DONE #IT'S FINALLY DONE #ig tumblr has a problem with long posts now bc this was a bitch to format correctly #mine #fic rec

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wingedquill · 4 years ago

Text

against the dying of the light, chapter one

@geraltwhumpweek

Title: against the dying of the light

Ships: Geralt/Jaskier (though not in this chapter)

Prompt Day: Day 5, Loneliness

Medium: Netflix

Warnings: Torture, Geralt is blinded very suddenly and violently. There is a lot of subsequent panic and internalized ableism about said blindness, and he's going to be very negative about it for quite a while (this chapter especially). This chapter in particular has a lot of panicked, disjointed writing/thinking so please proceed with caution.

Word Count: 2,830

Summary: When Geralt is captured by Nilfgaard and tortured for the whereabouts of his daughter, he tries to escape. Of course he does. It's in his nature. Nilfgaard comes up with a clever solution to stop him from running again. A caustic potion poured over his eyes. Time goes a bit funny after that.

Author’s Note: Chapter one of this was written for Geralt Whump Week, but this is set in the Juniper Verse. In case you haven't read that and don't feel like investing time in a long multichapter, all you need to know for this fic is that Geralt was kidnapped by Nilfgaard to protect Ciri, and that Jaskier is actually a witcher named Juniper. Chapters two and three (detailing Geralt's recovery and his and Juniper's budding relationship) will go up at some point soon-ish, but it's not really a priority for me right now, fic-wise, so don't be surprised if it takes a while.

Geralt tries to escape. Of course he does. He wasn’t made to sit quietly in a cage and let them hurt him. So as soon as he has the slightest sliver of an opportunity, he picks the locks on his chains, kills his guard with his bare hands, and sprints for the exit.

He should have waited, he thinks, when he throws open the door to the sounds of shouting and stampeding footsteps. He should have waited, he thinks, when Fringilla waves her hand and his legs lose all their strength. He should have waited, he thinks, when they drag him back to his cell and throw him on the bloodstained table. They don’t even bother to chain him down—Fringilla’s magic has left him completely motionless. Completely helpless.

He should have fucking waited.

Fringilla stalks into the room, spitting fury as her subordinates. Her magic presses down around him, heavy and oppressive. If she gets any angrier, he fears she’ll crack a rib. She stands over Geralt, grabbing his chin in her hand. Her magic is the only thing that stops him from flinching back, and shame curls in his gut, shame that he’s been reduced to beaten-animal reflex in so short a time.

“I have half a mind to keep you like this,” she snarls. “Paralyzed. On this table. Capable of nothing but hurting.”

One of her lackeys steps forward and hands her a clear jug filled with bright red liquid. Geralt expects her to force it down his throat. Expects it to be like the green potion that he’d been made to drink so many times, setting his nerves on fire without leaving a single mark on his body. Pain without the need for a healer. Convenient for his captors.

“But that would take a toll on me,” she continues, swirling the liquid around the glass. “And Nilfgaard needs me at my strongest. So this is my solution to stop you from running again, witcher. Do let me know what you think.”

She tilts her wrist and pours the red potion directly into Geralt’s eyes.

It burns.

He wants to scream, wants to thrash, wants to claw at his face and get it off,but he just lies limply on the table and stares up at the ceiling, at the face of his tormentor. And the room is cold, and gray, and dark, and getting darker.

The world is burning away from the edges of his vision and no, no, nothis can’t be happening to him, this can’t—

This can’t be the last thing he sees.

But it is.

Blackness overtakes everything and he hopes, stupidly, childishly, that he’s just fallen unconscious, except his eyes are stillon fire, shit, fuck, this isn’t real, he has to be dreaming. He hears Fringilla bark an order, feels rough hands grab at his limbs and lift. He’s dumped unceremoniously back on the ground and cold metal clicks shut around his wrists, ankles, neck.

He has motion again. A scream explodes out of his throat, animalistic, wounded, grieving a loss that he never thought he’d have to endure. He curls over himself, bringing his shackled hands up to rub frantically at his eyes. But it’s far too late. The damage is done. He’s—

He’s—

“We should have done this earlier,” he hears Fringilla say. Is she out of the room? How many people are here with him, how many people could hurt him? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know because he can’t fucking see. “I think this might be the thing that breaks him.”

Footsteps. Leaving him alone? Is he alone, or are they watching him sob, watching him wail like a child? He knows that his cell is small, but it feels very big, all of a sudden. The world is vast in its emptiness, and he thinks he might be the only person left in it. Stumbling through the void alone.

He wraps his arms around his knees and squeezes his eyes shut. As long as they’re closed, he can pretend that the blackness around him is there by his own choice.

***

For the first night, he tricks himself into thinking it might be temporary. He keeps his eyes closed for long stretches of time and tells himself that, when he opens them, he’ll be able to see again. Perhaps it will be blurry, perhaps it will be faded or colorless, but it’ll be more than endless nothing.

But he opens his eyes again. And again. And again. And every time, it’s nothing but darkness.

His own breaths are loud, loud, loud as thunder in his ears, and his heart is beating faster than it’s ever gone. Sweat covers him from head to toe and he’s shaking like an earthquake, like a small animal terrified of a thunderstorm. Is he dying? It feels like he might be dying.

He’s dying and falling and whirling away into the nothingness of the world.

No. It’s not nothingness. There is cold stone beneath his legs. A collar around his neck, chains on his limbs. Pain licking through his nerves, the aftershocks of the potion they’ve been forcing down his throat every day.

He’s here. He’s in this cell. He’s a prisoner of Nilfgaard and they’ve—

He’s not alone. That’s the point. The world hasn’t fallen away. There are still other people, lurking beyond the small cell filled with his desperate gaps. And he needs to remember that because those other people could hurt him even worse than he’s already been hurt. Want to hurt him worse, want to make him suffer.

He wonders if they’ll come back to give him the potion again, or if they’ll be content with watching him drift through the darkness, watching him cry (because he’s still crying, he can’t stop crying, it’s been hours now, and the tears still rush from him like a river) and whimper and claw at his eyes like that might lift the darkness away.

Maybe they’ll take your hearing.

He curls up even tighter.

Maybe they’ll take your tongue. Or your hands.

Tighter.

Maybe they’ll break your spine and leave you motionless and nerveless.

A sob bursts from his chest and the breaths rush from him, in and out like a runaway horse.

Maybe—

Maybe they weren’t content with—

His mind can dwell on a thousand different scenarios of what his torturers might do next, but it refuses to acknowledge what they’ve already done. It skates around the word, dances away from it.

They weren’t—

They want to do more than—

The breaths rush and rush, snatching control of his lungs away from him. He slumps down, shifting from a seated position to a lying one, his arms curled around his torso like that will do anything to protect him, his side pressing against the ground, his back against the wall. Anchor, anchor, anchor.

You’re on the world, you’re on the world, you’re here, you’re here, you’re just—

He uncurls his hand from his chest and presses his trembling fingers against the floor. Traces the cracks and dirt and tacky splotches he thinks are blood.

You’re here.

***

He sleeps, eventually. He doesn’t have much energy to begin with, these days, and his lungs running away from him sapped whatever was left.

When he opens his eyes, he thinks he might be dreaming at first. There is no other reason to wake to total darkness, not when his tormentors have been leaving torches burning constantly in his cell to fuck with his sleep. He’s used to opening his eyes to flames and gray stone, used to opening his eyes and seeing the fucking table that they like to strap him down on.

So. There’s no reason for this break in routine, unless he’s dreaming.

For a split second, he’s confused.

And then he remembers.

***

He cries the entire day. He thinks. Time is hard to mark when you’re—

***

Eventually he hears his cell door slamming open. He jumps at the suddenness of it, slamming his head against the wall. There’s laughter, cold and cruel, slipping into his void and crushing him from all sides. He doesn’t know who it belongs to, which guard has decided to visit him.

He almost asks.

He clenches his jaw shut. He won’t speak to them, not a single word. He promised himself that a long time ago, promised Ciri that a long time ago, and it’s not a promise he intends to break.

“Breakfast, puppy,” the man says. “Though I can see you didn’t want your dinner last night. Are we feeding you too much?”

Geralt doesn’t answer. Breakfast? But it was the evening wasn’t it? He’s been awake all day, he’s been crying for hours.

Time passes funny when you’re—

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man laughs. Geralt hears a clatter as he sets the plate down. “I’ll pass along your message to Fringilla.”

Less food. When he can already feel his clothes hanging looser, when his hair has started to fall out, when his stomach is constantly screaming in pain.

He doesn’t answer.

“Eat up,” the man says, and the door slams shut again.

***

He needs to leave the corner.

***

He needs to leave the corner if he wants to eat now.

***

He needs to leave the corner if he doesn’t want them to cut his rations again.

***

He moves on his hands and knees, shivering the whole time. As soon as he gets a few feet—is it a few feet, is it more, is it less, is it?—away from the wall, his lungs run away from him again. He collapses in the middle of the floor, focusing all his energy on forcing his breathing steady.

In and out and in and out and in.

They must be laughing at him, the famous White Wolf reduced to hysterics at the mere act of crawling across a floor.

Is this going to be the rest of his life?

No. It can’t be. It’ll wear off, or Fringilla will get bored and remove it, or he’ll get out of here and find a mage who can fix him.

He’s not—

He’s just not.

***

He finds the food eventually. He thinks it takes him an hour. Maybe two.

Maybe more.

He eats, the raw meat already growing rancid, and steadies himself to return to his corner.

***

Time passes.

***

Time passes.

***

Time is funny when—

When—

He still can’t think the word.

***

His mind keeps circling around Ciri. Wondering where she is. Who she’s with. If she’s okay—gods please, please let her be okay. You can leave me in the darkness, but please let her be okay.

He remembers her as she was in the clearing, terrified, tears pooling in her eyes, refusing to leave him. Leaving him anyway.

It isn’t her fault. It isn’t. It isn’t. This was his choice. His and his alone. He can’t blame his child for this, he just—he can’t. If he does, he’s the kind of monster that deserves to be struck down by silver.

But he thinks of the flash of her hair as she ran, her cloak furling out behind her. And he wonders, drifting in the darkness, if that was his last sight of her.

It wasn’the tells himself, as the days go on and on and on, and the darkness refuses to lighten. It can’t have been.

***

Other potential lasts.

Roach, eyes rolling madly in her head as she was dragged away by soldiers.

Yennefer, back to him, chest heaving as she realized what he had taken from her.

Jaskier, face twisted up in pain, trying desperately not to cry as Geralt dashed his heart on the ground.

They’re all shit.

They can’t be true lasts.

***

Time passes.

And passes.

***

Eventually, Fringilla does start giving him that potion again, the one that sets every nerve alight and makes him scream until his throat gives out.

He’s almost grateful for it, at first. It’s a distraction from the nothing, nothing, nothing.

***

He stops being grateful after—

After a while. Not sure how long.

***

Time passes.

And then.

***

Jaskier’s voice. Jaskier’s hands, pressing against his face, smoothing back his hair, tracing the skin around his eyes. Geralt leans into the touch, breathes in his scent, chases the melody of his voice. It might be a dream. A hallucination brought on by too much pain and too much nothingness. But he’ll drink it in while it’s here, savor it like a fine wine, a gracious lover, a peaceful day.

“We’re getting you out,” Jaskier whispers and—

Ciri is here, sobbing in his arms, a frantic litany of apologies that tug at his heart until he thinks it might snap clean in two. He holds her close, as tightly as he can with his sapped strength, and whispers reassurances in her hair. That it’s not her fault. That he’s proud of her.

(Though he’s terrified, that she’s here, because what the fuck was Jaskier thinking, bringing his child into this hell?)

And Yen is here too, tugging him to his feet, snarking at Jaskier like this is just another monster hunt. His family, here, around him, and they’re pulling him out of the cell, pressing him on step by step by agonizing step.

He wonders, briefly, if he might have died.

And then Fringilla appears, and Ciri steps forward, and he dismisses that thought entirely as his daughter turns his torturer into a tree.

Not even death would be that strange.

***

They drag him out of the shaking, screaming castle.

He struggles, weakly, pointlessly, because there’s one member of his family missing, and he can’t leave her, he can’t lose her, not after everything.

“It’s just a stupid horse,” Yennefer mutters, but Jaskier knows better.

***

He falls against her and breathes her in.

Life. Warmth.

His first and best anchor.

You’re on the world. You’re here. You’re not flying away.

“Sorry Roach,” he says against her neck. “Sorry. Bet you want to get back on the road again, huh?”

She nickers softly, he breath whooshing slowly and steadily beneath his ear.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Me too.”

You’ll never be able to ride her again, and you know it. Not properly.

He closes his eyes. It doesn’t make a difference.

This is the first of a thousand griefs.

***

But maybe not. Maybe—

Maybe Yennefer can fix this.

Maybe you don’t have to be—

***

He doesn’t feel like he’s here with them, as they pile into Yennefer’s safe house, moving too quickly for him to track. They flutter around him like anxious birds, pressing hands against his skin, and he knows he should feel like he’s part of the world. He knows that they are trying to ground him. But he doesn’t—

He can’t—

He wants to see Jaskier’s smile, he wants to see Ciri’s excitable bounce as she reaches up to grab his hand, he wants to see Yennefer’s steady violet eyes. He wants the reminder that they’re here, and he’s here, and he wants the world to be concrete and steady and solid around him.

Yennefer puts her hands on his face.

“This won’t hurt,” she promises.

He flinches anyway, from a knowledge that might hurt more than any blow.

Please, he says to all the gods in the sky. Please please please please don’t let me be—

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer says.

***

Time shatters.

***

Nononononononononono

***

“Yennefer. Can you take Ciri out of here?”

***

NonononononononononononoNONONONO—

***

Jaskier’s arms are around him, Jaskier’s voice is around him, echoing and soothing and Geralt can’t even hear what he’s saying.

***

His lungs are running away and he’s crying and crying and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop, it’s all his eyes are fucking good for anymore AND HE CAN’T—

***

“Breathe,” Jaskier says, and he doesn’t know how to do that. “Please breathe, sweetheart, please—”

***

Time is shattered, time is shattered, time doesn’t mean anything anymore, it could be noon or midnight, and he wouldn’t know because he’s—

***

“No,” he wails. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t do this, Jaskier, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Jaskier is shaking beneath him and he thinks Jaskier might be crying too, but he can’t tell, he can’t, because he’s—

***

“I’m blind,” he sobs. His mind can’t slip around the word anymore. It can’t escape it. It’s made a home in his brain, and he doesn’t think it’ll ever leave. Doesn’t think it’ll ever stop echoing, around and around and around.

“I’m blind, I’m blind, I’m blind, Jaskier, I—”

“I know,” Jaskier says. His breath stutters against Geralt’s cheek. He rocks back and forth like Geralt is a newborn babe, like simple motion is the answer to his tears. But it isn’t. Because nothing will ever fix this.

Nothing will ever bring him back to the world.

#geraltwhumpweek #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #juniper verse #My writing

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junie-bugg · 5 years ago

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Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note:

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead.

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles.

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems.

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony.

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim.

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop.

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes.

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father.

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin.

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy.

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers.

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table.

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off.

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!”

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!”

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says.

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face.

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp.

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil.

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again.

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes.

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

#everlark #thg #thg fanfic #everlark fluff #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #pride and prejudice #jane austen au #regency #everlarkfic #The Hunger Games

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reciprocityfic · 5 years ago

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a slight return home, chapter 7

Title: A Slight Return Home Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne Rating: T Summary: Rick’s death shakes Michonne’s world to its core. With her daughter and her remaining family, she tries to navigate her changed life, and all the struggles and surprises that come with it.

Author’s Note: Hi all! Here is chapter seven of A Slight Return Home.

Strangely enough, I listened to Taylor Swift while I wrote this chapter - to a song called False God from her new album, Lover. The music, more than the lyrics, just put me in the mood I needed to be in to write this, so there ya go I guess. The title comes from that song as well.

read chapter one on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter two on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter three on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter four on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter five on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter six on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter seven on archive of our own or ff.net

blind faith

Coming home is hard.

* * *

She’d expected to be happy when she saw him again.

The first time she sees him, he’s curled up at the edge of an empty, dank room. The power is out, and the room is mostly dark, save for one overhead light that keeps flickering on and off at random.

That’s how she catches glimpses of him - through those brief flashes of light. He’s crouched down in the far right corner, barefoot, hands over his head. She can tell, even from where she’s standing, that he’s frail - he’s so much smaller than she remembers him being. She can see a lengthy, unkempt beard growing on his face, hair longer than she’d ever seen it, sweaty and curly and more gray than brown. A thin hospital gown is the only thing covering his body, and for a moment, she’s swept away to a different moment in time, despite the chaos around her. She imagines his memories - thinks of him waking up from a coma in that hospital bed, thousands of miles away, all those years ago. Alone, confused, and terrified. Wearing only a hospital gown.

She supposes he’s completed some strange, apocalyptic full-circle, and she almost lets out a morbid laugh before she hears a loud bang come from down the hall, and she’s reminded that they have to be quick.

She sprints in his direction, then stops about two bodies’ length from him and slows. She doesn’t want to scare him even more than he already is. A few steps later, her legs give out (because he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive, and he’s right there in front of her) and she crawls to him, on her hands and knees across a dirty, tile floor.

“Rick?”

He jumps at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t lift his head to look at her.

“Rick,” she says again.

She reaches out to pull at one of the arms covering his face, but he hisses loudly when she touches him. A glance down shows her an arm marred with yellow and purple bruises, fresh scabs and long, jagged scars.

“Rick,” she breathes.

She reaches out again, trying her best to avoid cuts and bruises, and he flinches. But she continues on, because they don’t have much time and she has to get him out of here.

She’s not leaving without him. She’ll die here, with him, if she has to. But she refuses to leave without him.

She moves his arm rather easily, because he’s so weak. When she does - when she can finally see his face - she almost breathes a sigh of relief. There are cuts and bruises, but it’s nowhere near as bad as his arms. His eyes are shut tightly, his chest heaving with rapid, panicked breaths.

“Look at me,” she tells him.

He doesn’t move or answer, so she moves her hand to his shoulder, and shakes him gently. He lets out a low growl that sounds like it came from a desperate, caged animal. He tries to back up further, but he’s already pressed against the wall, and she doesn’t let go.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she assures him, making her voice as comforting as it can be, given their situation. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She hears another loud bang. Rosita calls out from behind her.

“Michonne.”

She turns her head briefly to see the rest of her group standing in the doorway, guns drawn, nervous looks on their faces as their eyes move rapidly, constantly scanning the area and keeping tabs on their surroundings.

She must be quick.

“Rick,” she says again, her voice cracking. She’s felt the pressure of tears behind her eyes since she opened the door to the room, and finally, the first one falls.

Her mind floods with all the time she’s said his name. The way her voice was full of hostility for the first few weeks, and then became softer and softer as time passed until it was almost friendly. The way saying it made her smile when she found him and Carl after the prison. How she tried to comfort him every time she uttered it when they first arrived at Alexandria. The way it fell from her lips on their first night together, in pleasured keens and breathless whimpers.

The way she screamed it, the last time she saw him. Screamed it as she watched the bridge burn in front of her, over and over again, until her vocal cords hurt. And how she whispered it on dark nights, after he was gone, curled up in their empty bed and missing him so much that she thought she would die.

She’s never said it the way she does now. She’s never been this desperate.

“Baby, look at me,” she begs, and she grabs his chin to try and turn his head towards her. “Please, baby.”

She’s just about to open her mouth again when she sees the skin around the corners of his eyes loosen, as he relaxes his eyelids. He stops breathing for a moment, and then inhales and exhales three times, slowly and deliberately. She can tell he’s trying to calm himself down, and she doesn’t dare move so that she doesn’t disturb the process.

He takes one more deep breath, and his eyes blink open. Then, he turns his head.

She’d expected to be happy when she first saw him again.

But when his eyes meet hers, finally, for the first time in seven years, all she feels is pain. Pain worse than she’s ever felt before. Pain sharper and more searing than when the bridge exploded in front of her, and she lost him.

His blue eyes are completely dull as they dart around her face like he doesn’t recognize her. To be fair, she wouldn’t recognize him either, except for the fact that he’s Rick and she knows him. Her heart and soul and spirit know him, irrevocably, and she’d recognize him anywhere, no matter the circumstance.

She waits for that recognition to kick in for him too, because she’s Michonne. Because she’s his. She waits, like she waited for Judith to come to her after she had to slaughter the children that were with Jocelyn. She waits for him to fall into her, to cry, to hold her.

“MICHONNE!” Rosita yells again, more urgently this time.

The recognition doesn’t come, though, and she’s never been more afraid in her entire life.

“We have to go,” she tells him, standing and pulling him up with her. She shudders at how easy it is to take on his weight, and she wonders what they’ll find when they finally take that hospital gown off of him. She braces herself, preparing to put up with his struggling, but he doesn’t fight back. He stumbles a bit, but he goes with her easily. She tries to take it as a good sign.

“Ready?” Rosita asks, once she gets the two of them back to the group.

“Ready,” Michonne reports, and she tries to steel herself, to turn off her emotions so she can stay on mission and get Rick home.

But as she leaves the room and walks out into the warzone around them, sandwiched at the center of her allies as she half-carries Rick along, tears continue to flow from her eyes and fall off her chin and jaw in drops.

* * *

Coming home is hard.

And sometimes, she feels like she’s slipping into a dark pit that she can’t see the bottom of.

* * *

He passes out on the way back to Alexandria, and they rush him to the infirmary as soon as they get through the gates.

Siddiq checks his vitals and clears him of any urgent health problems. His heart rate is low, but normal. Same with his blood pressure and temperature. She doesn’t understand, then, why he’s not waking up, but Siddiq assures her that this can happen. His body, not strong to begin with, just went through an ordeal, and needs time to recuperate.

So she stays with him, keeps vigil at the side of his bed, and will do so until he wakes up. She remembers the way he did the same with Carl when the boy lost his eye, and with her when she was beaten by one of Jadis’ people. It is her turn, and she is not leaving his side.

Siddiq stays around for awhile, checking his body, making secondary diagnoses. Things like repeated trauma and abuse come out of his mouth. Dehydration. Malnutrition. When Siddiq finally removes the hospital gown - when she sees his bloated stomach, his prominent ribs - she is tempted to go back to where she found him and kill the people who had him imprisoned for a second time.

Siddiq leaves when he decides Rick is stable enough to be without a doctor. He’s filthy, so Siddiq leaves her the items she needs to give him a sponge bath.

As she runs the soft sponge over his body, she takes inventory. She counts each of his ribs. She trails the tips of her fingers against the bumps of his spine. There are too many scars and bruises for her to categorize. But she swears that she will watch each bruise yellow and fade until there are none left. She promises that she will learn every new scar, memorize them and learn their stories and rub her fingers along them until she wipes away all of his pain.

She cuts his hair after she’s done, shaves off that grizzly beard. He begins to look more like himself. His hair is grayer. He has more wrinkles. He’s beaten and broken, but he’s come out on the other side. And she supposes that makes him more him than he’s ever been before.

He’s Rick Grimes. He’s hers, and she’s never letting anyone take him away from her again.

She doesn’t leave the infirmary, except to step outside and see Judith and RJ. She doesn’t want them to see their father yet. Not in the state he’s in. She stays awake as much as she can, because she wants to be there when he wakes up. Plus, she just wants to look at him. She spent seven years not seeing him, and now that she can, she never wants to close her eyes again. Not even to blink.

He sleeps for three days. On the third, she sits next to him, holding his hand. Siddiq has just left after giving her lunch, and now she’s alone again. She likes it better that way, she thinks. She’s missed being alone with Rick.

She’s looking down at their entwined hands, and playing with his fingers, when he wakes.

It happens all of a sudden. Without warning, he begins to gasp for air, and she jumps out of her seat, startled by the abrupt noise. He keeps heaving, and she’s about to run for Siddiq, when she notices his eyes are open. She hesitates. She suspects he’s having trouble due to panic rather than something medical, and she knows that adding another person into the situation will only increase his anxiety. So instead, she turns to him, never letting go of his hand.

“Hey,” she says gently. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay. Everything’s fine.”

He looks up at her, eyes wide and frightened.

“Hey, hey,” she coos again, bending over him slightly.

“Where am I?” he asks frantically. His voice is rough and gravelly, like he hasn’t used it in awhile and it’s collected a layer of rust.

“You’re in the infirmary. In Alexandria.”

She almost asks him if he remembers where that is, but she doesn’t want to be disappointed by his answer. He doesn’t say anything, but he does stop hyperventilating. Since he seems calmer, she takes her seat again, pulling it a little closer to his bed.

He doesn’t move for a few minutes, just lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. Then, he turns his head in her direction, and notices their hands are clasped together. He quickly pulls away from her, and folds his hands over his stomach.

He doesn’t like to be touched, that much is clear. The words Siddiq used ring in her head - repeated trauma, abuse - and her heart shatters.

“I, uh, gave you a bath,” she tells him, just to fill the empty air with sound. But she realizes that if he doesn’t remember her, that might make him feel uncomfortable. “I hope that’s okay. You were pretty dirty.”

He doesn’t answer. One of his hands comes up and runs over his jaw, free from that beard.

“Yeah, I also shaved off that beard. Hope you weren’t too fond of it,” she tries to joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “I cut your hair a little bit, too.”

“How long was I asleep?” he asks.

“Three days.”

He nods, but doesn’t react any other way. A silence falls over them.

She wants to ask him if he remembers who she is. She is scared of what he will tell her, but she must know. She needs to determine where she has to start with him.

So, she rises again, sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. He still scoots over. She closes her eyes, takes a deep, steadying breath, and forges ahead.

“Do you remem-”

“Michonne,” he interrupts.

Her heart leaps. It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name since before he left for camp, after their family fun day. Her vision blurs with tears. She’d forgotten how much she loves the sound of her name on his lips.

“Yeah?” she asks, a single tear falling from the corner of her left eye.

He nods again.

“Michonne,” he repeats, and he sounds like a man who just found water after days of wandering in the desert.

She lets out a sob that surprises even her, and covers her mouth with her hand. He looks at her for a moment, and then reaches out with trembling fingers to grab that hand. He pulls it from her face, brings it down to his chest, and holds her hand in both of his.

She can feel the steady thump of his heart under her palm.

(he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive)

“Michonne,” he breathes.

And the corners of his mouth tick up.

* * *

Coming home is hard.

And sometimes, she feels like she will buckle under the weight of it all.

She didn’t expect it to be this hard.

* * *

He lets her hand go soon after he takes it, retreating into himself. She sits back in her seat, waits for him to start asking questions about the past seven years, but those questions don’t come. Instead, he lays back again and stares at the ceiling.

The silence that falls over them is heavy, and long, and she’s on the verge of falling asleep sitting up when he speaks.

“How is she?”

She knows who his question is about without having to ask. He wants to know about his little girl.

Judith.

“She’s...perfect,” she tells him, a brilliant smile appearing on her face. “Even more perfect than we could’ve imagined.”

“She’s ten by now, right?”

“Going on eleven.”

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, and Michonne laughs softly.

“She’s amazing, Rick. She’s smart. Capable. Knows how to survive. Calls me out on my bullshit. God, I can’t wait for you to see her. She carries your gun around with her, you know.”

“My Colt?” he asks, surprise coloring his tone. “Isn’t that thing nearly as big as her?”

They both laugh, but he stops suddenly.

“Wait. How’d she get my Colt? I had it on me when the bridge went up.”

She looks down, and bites her lip. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous to tell him this, but she is.

“I found it when I went to talk to you,” she murmurs.

He provides no response, so after a few moments, she glances up. He’s looking in her direction, instead of up at the ceiling, and has a confused look on his face.

“You...went to talk to me?”

“I did,” she begins, looking at the floor again. “We never found your body - now we know why, of course - but back then, we just knew that we couldn’t find you. I didn’t have anything to bury, or anywhere to mourn. We put a little something next to Carl’s grave, but it wasn’t the same, because I knew you weren’t actually there. So when I wanted to feel especially close to you, or talk to you, I would go to the bridge - the place I last saw you - and sit on the bank of the creek. And just...talk to you.”

She shifts in her seat a little, and shrugs.

“I know it sounds kind of stupid -”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupts, and when she looks at him, he has tears in his eyes. “It’s not.”

She nods, and wipes at the wetness that starts to gather in her own eyes.

“What did you talk to me about?” he wonders.

“Lots of things,” she answers. “But I mostly went when…”

“When what?”

She hesitates, and looks down again. She’s not sure how much she should pile on him all at once, but she needs to tell him. Not telling him is a weight in her heart that pulls her down.

She needs to tell him, so she goes on.

“When I was pregnant,” she says quietly.

She hears the springs of his bed creak as he sits up, but she doesn’t look at him yet. She’s preparing herself for what she’s going to say next, gathering her emotions. Trying to figure out how to tell him that he has a son.

“Wh-what?” she hears him stutter out, his voice cracking slightly.

“Rick,” she whispers, finally lifting her head so she can see him. He’s staring at her with a bewildered look on his face, like he doesn’t understand what she’s trying to tell him. His eyes still shine from the liquid gathered in them.

“I found out a few weeks after the bridge,” she explains, but he still looks baffled by her words. She gets up and sits on the edge of his bed. She longs to touch him, to cup his face between her hands and press her lips to the worry lines scrunching the skin of his forehead, but she knows he will shrink away. She’s beginning to realize aversion to any type of touch is a kind of reflex he’s developed.

Repeated trauma, she remembers. Abuse.

So she keeps her hands to herself, and tells him plainly.

“We did it, Rick. We had a baby. A little baby boy.”

He sobs.

He sobs over and over again. At first, she thinks - or hopes, maybe - his tears are ones of joy. But as they continue on, violent and heavy, she worries that they come from some other emotion.

“Rick?” she questions, a frown appearing on her face.

“What am I gonna do?” he asks her between his cries, his voice broken.

“What do you mean?”

“What am I gonna do?” he asks again, looking up at her desperately with puffy and red-rimmed eyes. “I’m not the same, Michonne. I’m not who I was. Things happened - so much happened - and I’m probably never gonna be the same. How am I gonna be a dad again? The kind of dad they deserve, at least. It’s gonna be hard enough with Judith, but at least she had me for a little while. But now, with this one - I’m not the same. I’m just this...hollow shell of who I used to be, and I don’t -”

He pauses as he sobs again.

“How am I gonna do this?”

“You’re not empty. You’re not broken, Rick,” she tells him, her own tears falling now. She places one hand on his cheek, and even though he turns to pull away, she doesn’t let him. She follows his face with her hand, and gently rubs away the wetness at the corner of his eye. “Not all of you. Your heart, and your soul - they’re still there. And the other parts - the parts that are broken - we’ll put them back together.”

“How?” he inquires, eyes wide and nearly hopeless.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you. That’s what we do, Rick. We help each other, through everything, and together we can do anything. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.”

He continues to cry, but leans into her hand, finally.

“It’ll be hard,” he tells her.

“I know.”

“It’s gonna be so hard.”

“I know, baby,” she assures him. “But we’ve done hard things - the hardest kinds of things - before. And we’ll do this, too.”

He stares at her, and she can see the skepticism in his expression. But he nods, and the light stubble on his face scratches against her palm.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t believe her now. She’ll get him there. She’ll do whatever it takes to get him there.

As she continues to wipe away his tears, she silently pledges, to him and to herself, that she will do anything.

* * *

Coming home is hard.

She didn’t think it would be this hard - she wishes it wasn’t - but it doesn’t matter.

She once whispered, after he was gone, that they were going to be okay. In the dark, surrounded by her children, she promised him that they would be okay.

She intends to keep that promise. Judith and RJ will be okay.

They’ll be okay. Him and her. Rick and Michonne. She knows they will be, deep in her bones.

Coming home is hard. Its difficulties are hefty, and strong.

But they are stronger.

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you all liked it. Sorry for all the angst :/

Thanks for everything!

xoxo, Rebekah

#richonne #the walking dead #richonnejustdesserts #richonne writing network #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #twd fanfiction #asrh

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phandomsecretvalentines · 7 years ago

Text

The Evening Glow

Words: 5k

Genre: Fluff, (very) light angst

Rating: G

Summary: Dan hasn’t had the best luck when it comes to blind dates, so when Louise recommends he date her friend Phil, he’s skeptical. But even when he begins to fall for Phil, he can’t shake his crush for the attractive cashier at ASDA who he knows only as Lester.

Author’s Notes: This fic was written for @dont-tell-them-i-write-phan for phandomsecretvalentines 2018! I tried to incorporate everything you said from my ask, friend! I hope you love it!

Dan snapped the lens cap back on the large camera in a huff. He began the process of packing up, a familiar routine. The delicate balance of the weight on his shoulder so he didn’t drop thousands of dollars of equipment that didn’t belong to him, and the meticulous packing in the padded bags.

“I swear this panda will never be born,” he complained. “What is this, the third time we’ve been out here? And nothing.”

Louise rolled her eyes at him, running her fingers through her hair for the first time all night. It was absolutely forbidden while she was in front of the camera, after all the work the crew puts into hair and makeup.

“Come on, Dan. You know that the first time we were out here it was at the beginning of the story to announce the pregnancy, and last time they really thought the cub was coming!”

“And today?” Dan said, a hollow laugh following quickly as he knew the answer was ridiculous. He also knew that Louise knew.

Dan was just sick of it. His first anniversary at the local news channel had been a couple months ago, and he was still being put on the fluffy stories. It had been six months at least since they promised him better gigs, and they had yet to deliver. He was craving something, more.

“Well, today we had to cover how inexplicably long this panda cub is staying in the mum,” she trailed off, defeated but trying her best to keep in light spirits. “Anyway, you can’t be so pessimistic all the time! So many people would love to be here at the zoo before opening.”

“Name one!” Dan said as the pair shuffled out of the vet center.

“My friend Phil,” she snapped her fingers and pointed at Dan as she realized. “He loves animals, pandas in particular.”

“Oh, not this again!” Dan laughed. The conversation was nearly as familiar as the camera he carries at work every day.

“You’d like him, I swear to you!” Louise quipped. She batted him playfully on the arm, and wrapped a hand around it, shaking him back and forth.

“Louise, the last time you set me up on a blind date, the jerk bailed on me halfway through it!”

“He hadn’t told me his daughter was due to be born any day! What could you expect from the poor man? He had to be there.” They went through their practiced dance. “Besides, that was two months ago, and Phil isn’t expecting a child so no need to worry.”

Truthfully, Dan had been considering getting out in the dating world again. While Louise’s suggestions weren’t always perfect, it would be, well, convenient. He sighed.

“How did you meet this guy again?”

“He was in my uni program! Trust me, you’re just his type. He loves the gloomy, self-loathing thing,” he teased.

“Hey!” Dan nudged her shoulder to shoulder and sent her balance off-kilter. She stumbled around the pavement looking drunk with giddiness and late nights.

“I’m joking with you, of course!” She said. “Listen, just take his number. It doesn’t mean you have to marry him, jeez.”

Dan considered this for a moment. He could refuse Louise again, but though she was sweet, she was also stubborn. He’d never hear the end of it. Or he could take the number and give it a shot. His shoulders slumped with resignation as he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it over.

Louise gleefully took out her own and copied the number into his, under the name “Phil 🖤”

Dan rolled his eyes as he examined his new contact. Louise pulled him into a soft hug before they parted ways.

“Remember to answer my calls Dan! We need you when this cub finally does make an appearance,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

Above the contact screen, Dan could see the time shining 6:15am. The news team called him out earlier than ever before. He reminded himself that this was what paying dues is all about, but somehow that didn’t help his eyes stay open or his brain to work properly. Too late to get back to sleep, he thought.

The dreaded sun was already peeking out from behind the historic buildings of London, spreading oranges and purples across the horizon. Disgusting. He’d need coffee if he was going to make it to the evening broadcast. Lots of coffee.

Dan turned into the nearest ASDA, the desperation overtaking the laziness. The artificial lights were all too bright and unwelcome for six in the morning. He squinted as he walked through the store between aisles of cereal until he finally found a refrigerator full of drinks, a single shelf dedicated to sickly sweet iced coffee in plastic bottles. He stared blankly, deciding between French Vanilla and Mocha.

He wondered which this Phil guy would pick. He had no idea what this man was like. Dan already had his fair share of bad blind dates to look back on. The last time, when he was ditched because his date’s ex-wife went into labor with his child, was not actually the worst of them.

Dan grabbed a bottle without really looking. Mocha it is.

He wanted to date, sure. It’s just that he was over being set up. Dan could get someone on his own; he was sure of it.

As he meandered to the check out line, he glanced up for the first time. The cashier stood quietly, his hand crooked awkwardly in his pocket, his uniform top bunching up behind his wrist.

The man was tall, and slender built. His black hair cut into a fringe that tapered down to just above the edge of his eye. It framed his face well. The color accented just how blue his eyes really were, and Dan took a moment to catch his breath.

He set his drink on the conveyor and watched as it scooted away slowly. Dan followed his gaze up to the cashier’s nametag. It read Lester.

“Is that your real name?” Dan asked. Lester’s face contorted, his eyebrows pulling together in offense. “Not that it’s bad or anything,” he saved himself. As the man’s face relaxed, Dan let a cool smile grace his lips.

“It’s my last name,” he said. “Big mix up. Lives were lost,” Lester said with a grin as he flipped the coffee across the laser scanner.

Dan giggled at that. He was cute, the way he bit his lip gently after such a sarcastic quip. A blush creeped up Dan’s neck. He could do this. He had plenty of experience flirting with attractive men.

“Well then, Mr. Lester,” he said with a wink, “that sounds like quite the disaster. I’m glad you made it.”

Dan watched a blush spread from his new friend’s cheekbones all the way to his nose as he averted his eyes.

“Would you like this in a bag?” Lester asked, reverting to a very professional customer service voice.

“No, thanks,” Dan said, accepting that it was time to leave the poor guy alone.

“Pound fifty,” Lester responded kindly. Dan gave him the cash and a friendly nod before leaving.

“So did you text Phil?” Louise said as she fluffed her hair, to the dismay of the director standing just behind Dan. Dan adjusted the eyepiece and hoisted the camera to his shoulder, checking the angle of the shot.

“No,” he said flatly. He kept his eye focused into the lens.

“Are you going to explain that at all or will I be left hanging?” Louise replied.

“Look,” Dan started, “I just don’t want to text a total stranger, okay? I can do this on my own.”

“Sweetie,” Louise answered, “I know you can do it on your own, but Phil is a great guy! And it’s not like you’re seeing anyone else.” Louise checked her teeth for lipstick in her compact.

“I might be,” he said, scuffing his foot against the pavement. Louise’s eyes magnified.

“Spill!”

“It’s nothing,” Dan brushed it off. “It’s just this really cute guy. He works at an ASDA close by me.”

“Oh, Dan!” Louise’s shoulders slumped. “Be honest, when have you ever gotten a date with a random cashier?”

“Places!” the director called. “We’re on in five!”

Dan shuffled around to perfect the shot.

“I could definitely get a date with this guy,” Dan promised.

“Darling, what do you even know about him?”

“Well, just his name, and where he works. And that he’s so, so cute. And sexy. And funny.”

“You got all of that, huh?” She asked, a smirk on her face.

“Well, no, I only know his last name.” Dan sighed. He knew Louise was right.

“Listen, Phil is amazing. He would be so great for you. He likes Muse, and anime, and video games. He’s really sweet. Just give him a chance.”

“Okay,” Dan said, gesturing to her to step a bit to the right while he looks into the camera again. “I’ll text him tonight.”

“You will?” Louise confirmed. Dan nodded.

“Five,” the director called with her fingers up. “Four. Three.” She continued counting down on her fingers as Dan hit the button the begin the broadcast.

Dan fidgeted with his phone, clicking the home button twice rapidly and closed the Messages app. He reopened it and typed out a quick “hey” and deleted it.

It was stupid. He didn’t need to be nervous. In fact, he didn’t really need to be doing this at all. But at least it would get Louise off his back. He was going to give it a shot.

Hey I got this number from Louise

She wanted me to text you. My name is Dan

He waited only a moment before he saw an ellipsis appear to tell him that Phil was responding.

Hey! Yeah, this is Phil. Louise told me you’d be messaging me sometime. :)

I heard you like Muse too. Lol.

They both shared their experiences at the Muse shows they went to as teens. Dan could feel the tightening of his chest as his phone lit up with another message from Phil. It was familiar and exciting all the same, a feeling he remembered from high school.

Dan flirted unabashedly.

If you were an anime character who would you be

Phil replied.

Kirito all the way. Not really, but a guy can dream, right?

Dan couln’t help but think Phil would be a great Kirito, despite how little he knew about him.

Can I be your Asuna

But like without the breasts

The response came quickly.

You can be my Asuna even if you’ve got the breasts. I don’t judge.

Dan bit his lower lip. It was an instant connection with Phil. He didn’t want to put his cell down.

So Louise says you were in the same uni program

What do you do

He rubbed the edge of his phone as he waited, eager to learn more about this man.

I’m trying to break into the radio business. Maybe as a DJ.

But it’s tough.

He smiled.

I believe in you… and we all know that a strangers faith is the most reliable right

Hours later, he fell asleep feeling dizzy and light. This Phil guy was something, he’d give Louise that much.

By the time he walked into ASDA the next morning, Phil was still on his mind. They texted for hours, yet somehow he still felt like Dan’s mystery man. Sure, he knew his favorite song, and he knew all of his anime senpais, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing out on something important. Something good.

He put the same coffee on the conveyor belt as last time, only in that moment realizing that he’d walked right into Lester’s aisle again.

“Oh, Mr. Lester,” Dan teased. “Fancy seeing you here again.” He enjoyed how the man held a chuckle back from his soft lips, a pale pink just barely off his fair skin tone, but they complimented it well.

“I work here,” he said, and Dan watched his lips form every beautiful word, pull up into a more genuine smile.

If Dan were being honest with himself, he wanted to pursue whatever he could with this Lester. He enjoyed his little mannerisms. The way he caught his tongue between his teeth when he laughed made Dan’s heart flutter.

He scanned the bottle, clicking the keyboard of the computer to his side.

“Pound fifty,” he said. “Those are gross, by the way. It’s like the worst coffee in the world.”

“Well maybe you’ll have to show me better coffee sometime,” Dan said without thinking. Lester froze, his eyes growing wide and Dan hated himself for a split second. He made it weird. “Or maybe not, whatever.” Dan tried to smooth it over. He didn’t even know if Lester liked men.

“Perhaps,” Lester said. His long slim fingers carded through his hair, pulling his fringe up into a slight quiff, but Dan only found it more attractive on him.

He thought it best to leave it at that for the day. After all, Dan knew Louise was right. He didn’t know anything real about Lester. Maybe his quirks were cute, but he wasn’t vetted. Maybe Phil was a safer bet.

He paid graciously and muttered a polite goodbye. As he walked out of the store, Dan cringed at the thought of choosing the safer option for the sake of it. It wasn’t that, not really. He liked Phil, that much was clear. He really liked Phil.

He told Louise as much as they walked to the Underground after their broadcast across the city later that day.

“So, how did it go?” she said with a teasing wiggle in her voice that matched her squirming eyebrows.

“I think it went really well, actually,” Dan said as he slid his hands into his pockets. His pace slowed as he thought of their last conversation.

“I knew it!” she cheered, her hands clapping quickly and she hopped a bit. “When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dan nudged her with his elbow. “It’s not like that. He’s just, really cool.”

Dan couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks, so he angled his face to the ground.

“I’m kidding with you, you know that.” Louise picked his face up by the chin until she could see the redness spreading further. “I’m so glad you like him, dear.”

“I looked him up on Twitter,” he admit, “but he doesn’t have any pictures of himself.”

The two made their way down the steps into the tunnels below to wait for their respective trains.

“Ah, yeah. Phil is very self conscious,” Louise explained.

“Really?” Dan asked, surprised. “But he was in your program in uni? Wasn’t that broadcasting?”

“Yes, and then he went over to radio,” Louise shot him a look, as if that should explain everything. It didn’t. “He’s not the most confident of guys, with his looks. Used to dream of being a weatherman, but he just couldn’t get comfortable in front of the camera.”

They stopped in front of a platform. Louise double checked the light up sign that read the arrival time of the next train.

“Is he like,” Dan thought of the best way to ask without offending Phil, “not conventionally attractive?”

“Oh, he’s attractive,” Louise answered easily. “He just doesn’t see it himself.”

“I wish I could see him,” Dan said, his voice dropping low.

“Then ask him out on a date!” Louise responded. Her perky voice made it all seem so easy.

“Maybe soon,” Dan said. He hadn’t even gotten him on the phone yet. He wanted to talk with him, hear the tone in his voice as they flirted. He wanted some kind of human experience that wasn’t just text.

Louise kissed Dan on the cheek when the train came flying by them. Dan watched her step over the gap and she called back to him.

“Do what you’ve gotta do,” and she waved.

Dan moved to grab his phone as he walked to his area of the Underground, waiting for the train that would take him home.

Hey I was thinking about you today

How have you been

A few minutes later, Phil’s name lit up his lock screen.

I’ve been well! I saw a cute dog today.

Dan giggled. Phil was the type, it seemed, that got joy from the littlest things. He thought about how nice that would be, to have someone in his life like that.

Can I call you

Dan knew Phil had seen the message. He waited for the ellipsis to appear, but it didn’t. He stepped onto his platform. Dan tried to ignore the tightness in his chest as he waited for his phone to buzz.

A few minutes later the vibrations tickled against his leg.

I would, but I’m just-

I’m really shy.

Dan answered immediately.

I like shy

His hands flew to his hair and he swirled his fingers through the curls. He did like shy guys. He bit his lower lip expectantly. His mind wandered, imagining what Phil looked like with a flush of coyness up his neck.

Yet, when he thought of demure boys, all he could really think about was how Lester sticks his tongue between his teeth to hold back his laugh.

But okay no phone calls yet

When will I get to meet you

Dan arrived at his stop and began his walk to his flat.

Eventually. :p

Despite his eyes being glued to his phone, he could feel them drooping. He held his phone to his chest as he fell asleep.

When he awoke in the morning, all Dan could think about was blue eyes.

It was driving him insane, if Dan were being honest with himself. He liked Phil, so much. When they texted it felt like the whole world melted away. But Dan couldn’t shake this crush on Lester, his mysterious ASDA man.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. Way too late to not have a reason to be up, but he had a feeling that he had to go buy a coffee. This infatuation wasn’t going away until he truly acted on it.

It’s not like he and Phil were exclusive or anything, he reasoned. In fact, they haven’t even explicitly stated their relationship was a romantic one.

Dan knew that logic wouldn’t hold up. It was a technicality at best. He shook the conflict from his mind as he pulled his black skinny jeans over his legs and a grey color blocked jumper over his head. The door behind him slammed shut as he barrelled out onto the pavement and down the street.

Car sped past him in the road and Dan barely stopped to look both ways before running across it. The morning light was still golden, blinding him as he turned the corner to walk the ten blocks to the grocery store.

Dan could feel his pounding heart. Exercise was never his strong suit, but he couldn’t stop. If he stopped jogging, he may have time to rethink his actions, and he didn’t want to do that.

As the automatic doors parted before him like the Red Sea, Dan felt anything but magical. A tall pale figure with dark hair was stepping into a separate room at the back of the store, seeming to pull his smock over his head.

“Lester!” Dan called from the entrance. “Wait!”

He summoned what little energy he had left and speed-walked to where Lester stood.

“Yeah?” Lester asked, his eyes skimming up and down Dan’s body, assessing the situation. He seemed bewildered, but not unhappy to see him.

“I was wondering if you wanted to show me some better coffee?” Dan asked, less than dignified.

It was out there now, he’d asked for the date, and now he felt unsteady, as if he stood on a tightrope and Lester was at the other end, with the power to reach for his hand or shake the rope.

“Oh, ummm,” Lester said. His hand flew to the back of his neck, rubbing some tension out of it. “It’s just that-”

“Oh no, you’re not,” Dan interrupted. He was falling.

“No!” Lester corrected. “It’s not that. I do like men, and I do think you’re attractive, but,” Lester said as he dropped his hand to his side and lowered his eyes to meet Dan’s, “I’m sort of, speaking to someone right now. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”

Lester’s hands made their way to his pockets and he slid them inside. The guilty look on his face may have been cute if Dan wasn’t felt embarrassed as hell.

“That’s alright,” he said. “It’s fine, it’s good.” Dan stood still, hoping to turn the conversation around somehow, regain some pride.

“I’m really sorry,” Lester said as he pulled at his smock again. There was a tinge of regret in his voice, and sadness. “I was just about to head out, maybe I’ll see you around though.”

“Yeah,” Dan said and Lester entered the employee lounge and shut the door behind him.

Dan left the store, feeling awkward leaving without buying anything. He dialed Louise immediately.

“Hello?” she answered happily. “Dan, you never call!”

“I asked him out,” Dan nearly shouted. He fast-walked down the road without a clear destination.

“Phil? That’s great sweetheart!” Louise cheered.

“Not Phil, the guy from ASDA,” he said. Shame now wracked his own voice.

“Dan, no! I thought you were going to ask Phil out!” Louise prodded.

The day was too bright outside. It was stifling. Dan narrowed his eyes against the sunlight.

“I was going to, he didn’t want me to call him. And today all I could think about was my crush on the grocery man.” He tried to justify his decision, mostly to himself. “I knew that I could never move forward with Phil if this guy was in my head all the time.”

“So what happened then, love?” Her voice was more gentle.

“He turned me down, Louise. And now I just feel so shitty. He’s seeing someone else. Not a big deal, I’ve been rejected before. But how could I have done that to Phil? He’s-” Dan paused to think of the best way to describe Phil. How could he explain all the emotions he was going through, over simple text messages? “He’s amazing.”

“Dan, you haven’t even been on a date with Phil! He’s an understanding guy. Just call him, tell him what happened.”

Dan hailed a taxi, still not sure exactly where he wanted to go, but knowing that he wanted to get away.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me on the phone,” he responded. The driver asked for an address and Dan just asked him to be taken to the London Eye.

“Just call him! He likes you, he won’t refuse your call.”

Louise was making sense. Buildings and cars were flying across Dan’s line of vision and he already regret getting into a car. It just made everything feel like it was going faster. He was panicking.

He politely let Louise off the line and dialed Phil.

“Dan?” he heard on the other line. His voice almost sounded familiar, he liked it.

“Phil! I’m so glad you answered.” He said without giving Phil much time to speak. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

“Oh, go ahead.” He sounded concerned.

“I sort of asked someone out this morning,” Dan rambled on. “I’m sorry. I’m going to sound so rude right now, I just really feel like I can tell you anything. Anyway, I’ve had this crush on this guy from my ASDA. And I couldn’t help but ask him out this morning. I feel so stupid.”

“Dan,” was all Phil said. There was a catch in his voice. He’s hurt, Dan figured. He smacked himself in the forehead.

“I’m really sorry, Phil. I just… I really like you, and I couldn’t move forward with you without some sort of closer with him. He turned me down, so I got that. But now,” Dan took a moment of pause to check his phone, which buzzed at his ear. Louise was calling. He ignored it. “Now I just want to give this a chance for us, and I couldn’t do that without telling you about it. I couldn’t lie.”

He heard a faint giggle through the line. Dan thought it might sound empty, a facade.

“It’s fine, Dan,” Phil said, before, “Oh! Louise is calling me.”

“No, please, just don’t hang up the phone yet. Can I meet you? I really want to meet you, in person.”

Dan felt strange. He wasn’t used to pleading. The cab stopped on the side of the street near the Ferris Wheel.

“I guess you’ll meet me very soon,” Phil said, a clear smile in his voice which only confused Dan further. “Louise just texted me. The baby panda is being born! I’m going to meet you both there!”

Phil was eager about the panda. Dan could almost see the way he would dance around in excitement. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must be angry.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Dan said to the driver, “but can you bring me to the London Zoo instead?”

It all happened so quickly. Half an hour later, Dan had finished broadcasting about the birth of a healthy new panda cub.

The mother was licking the cub on the back, cleaning it up while the vets looked over it. They had an exclusive view as press. He wrung his hands together as he anxiously waited for Phil to arrive.

“Don’t be so nervous! He’s going to love you,” Louise reassured him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Dan turned to face her, leaning against the railing that protects the panda enclosure. His elbows resting on the bar casually, he could feel the ache of pressure against his bones and the cold metal on his skin.

Across the vet center, the double doors swung open and he saw someone enter. He’d recognize that face anywhere, it was Lester.

“Fuck!” Dan said beneath his breath. “How did he find me?”

“What?” Louise asked, looking around. “Who ‘found’ you?”

“It’s the ASDA guy. How did he know I’d be here?” Dan wondered. He faced into the pandas again, hiding his face. “He can’t be here, not when I’m supposed to be meeting Phil.”

“Sweetie, that is Phil. Who are you talking about?” Louise waved the man over.

Dan stared at Louise’s face in astonishment. She gave him a hug when he reached them.

“Dan, Phil. Phil, Dan,” she said. Phil’s face turned red and he rubbed the back of his head.

“Hey,” was all he said.

Dan’s head was spinning.

“You’re?” Dan said, dumbfounded.

“Phil,” he said, extending his hand forward. Dan met it with his own and their skin finally met. It was warm, and the electricity in his nerves moved in waves from his hands all over his body. “Phil Lester, actually.”

“This whole time,” Dan said, tone flat, not sure if he was asking or stating.

“I only just found out,” Phil . “When we were on the phone.”

Dan brushed his explanation aside, in favor of leaning in the place a wistful kiss to his lips.

They moved together, with Phil sinking into it despite his nerves. He was shy, after all. But with Dan taking the first step, he felt free enough to lace his fingers through Dan’s curly hair. The short buzzed sides lightly scratching his palm as he ran it up and down to get Dan closer.

When they broke apart, Dan spoke first.

“Can you stay here with me?” the vulnerability peppering his tone.

“You mean like a date?” Phil said, and he bit his bottom lip in the way Dan always adored, back when he was simply Lester. Dan nodded his head furiously.

“Of course!” Phil enthused. “Who says no to a zoo date?”

“I don’t know,” Dan reasoned. “Someone who doesn’t like the person who’s asked them?”

Phil ran his hand down the outside of Dan’s arm, an innocent enough gesture, but meaningful all the same.

“I like you,” he said.

“Wait, Dan said. “It thought you were in radio? But you work at ASDA!”

Phil laughed.

“I’m breaking into it! Give me time.” Dan shook his head, taking in the absurdity of it all.

Dan and Phil spent the rest of the day at the zoo. When they were finally kicked out of the panda enclosure, they spent over an hour with the llamas, two with the lions, and made sure to hit every exhibit in between.

Dan watched every mannerism Phil made, soaking in the way his hand crooked in his pocket when he was idling, and the way he bobbed his head when he was happy. He noticed how he used all fingers to gesture air quotations and Dan had to catch his breath.

How could he be so lucky.

When Dan finally felt the adventure of the day wearing down on him, and his eyes began closing slower and slower, they made their way to the exit.

The sun was setting in front of them, and Dan reached to pull Phil’s hand into his own.

“I’m really sorry that I asked you out. Well, Lester out, when I was already texting you,” he said, the remorse still weighing on his shoulders.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, for asking me out,” Phil replied.

“But you showed some loyalty in turning me down,” Dan said regretfully.

“Okay,” Phil said. “But then can I say I’m sorry for turning you down, just because I was already talking to you?”

“That’s silly,” Dan said. He felt Phil kiss the side of his head as they looked out at the sunset.

“Exactly,” Phil answered, and squeezed his hand tighter.

They both looked out over the horizon, and how the oranges faded to pinks, and purple, and black. The evening glow warmed their bodies. The day had set, but it felt like a beginning.

#submission

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bba-sae · 8 years ago

Text

Memoirs of the Broken People

Pairing: JaehyunX Reader

Genre: Soulmate Au/Angst/Fluff/Historical

Word Count: 9k

Summary: History used to be your favorite class of the day. Used to. But that was before the visions, the lashing out and the incredible, undeniable heartache that erupted every day. History was Jaehyun’s least favorite class too.

Author’s note: Goddamn, where have I been? IT’S BEEN FOREVER! How are all of you? I’m back from hell and better than ever! Jkjk, anyways, I’ve been super obsessed with NCT lately, especially Taeyong, so ironically I write about Jaehyun apparently??? Anyways! Requests are open still, but I can’t promise I’ll get it done super fast since I’m on vacation. Anywho, Enjoy this piece of shit I just wrote!

The buzzing of the fans that surround you occupies your attention, the mundane rhythm accompanying the scratching of lead against the paper as you etched text onto your notes. You yearned for a new song to listen to. The bell rang exactly 34 seconds ago and counting, rallying students to shuffle into their seats. Faces passed you, ones whose names you’d only remember for the duration of a semester but greeted anyways as they came into view.

“Good morning everyone.” Ms. Park greets the teenagers, who’ve fallen victim to the merciless weight of morning. The aroma of coffee and fresh cologne fills the room, “Hope you all had a good weekend, your unit tests are in the grade book.”

“Did our budding history professor set the curve yet again?” A student pipes up from behind, earning a joking glare you.

“Awe, if you put in a little effort to listen to Ms. Park instead of staring at Jennie all class period, maybe you could do well too!” Laughter erupts around you and you puff your chest in confidence.

“Shh, y/n likes history. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Ms. Park steps in before the boy could come up with a reply, sending you a knowing glance, “the best people love history.”

As if the boy had any shred of nerve left, he speaks up again, venom lining his words in annoyance, “Or nerds.” You send him a glare as you turn your head, and he smirks.

“Enough of that, we’re continuing with another period today. We’ll be talking about the Goguryeo-Tang war for the next two weeks!” The class groans in indifference, and Ms. Park beams with excitement a little bit more. Her hands clasp each other as she walks to her desk to display her power point onto the screen. Before the class, a portrait of a man appears onto the screen.

Something in the way the image pierced into your soul must have startled you, because just for a second you swear you are holding your breath. He was old, the paint detailing his age through wrinkles but his eyes look eerily familiar to you. The painting itself feels as if you had seen it before. You shake the thought off to listen.

“Does anyone know who this?” Ms. Park questions and calls on a student before a lack of volunteers could follow. The student shakes her head, too interested in copying her math homework down for her next period. Ms. Park continues, “this is Yeon Gaesomun, one of the great nobles of Goguryeo, and subsequently the new ruler after overthrowing King Yeongnyu. While I never personally met the man, most people note him to be quite intimidating.” Her joke falls short, and the awkward silence almost makes you cringe, but your mind has faded elsewhere at this point.

Yeon Gaesomun.

You whisper it under your breath, wanting to hear your voice say it. For some reason, the way it sounds is like something of habit rather than a new fact you’ve learned. You mind traces over possible reasons, the words of Ms. Park as they evaporate into the air as fast as they escape her mouth. The sounds around you become a dull buzz, the name continuing to roll off of your tongue. Except this time, you say it louder, paying no respect to the students around you. You cover your mouth instantly, looking around to see the class you have disrupted.

But there were no students around you.

Torches and gold leaf works of art surrounded you; panic arising just enough to squeeze your heart. Yet, the build up seems to have no affect on your actual body, as you settle yourself on your knees in front of a pedestal. The actions felt religious to you, as if you had done it a thousand times before, and you soon realized that you had no control of what you do now. You were simply eyes looking through a window, a soul rendered useless looking back on what felt so painfully like memories. It felt so real, your thoughts and recollection of this world was so genuine, you believed that this person was actually you.

“Daughter, you aren’t safe. You cannot run away from your guards, your brothers cannot protect you like they used to and you-“ You see the man in the portrait sitting in front of you, adorned with gold and precious jewels, a robe cascading over his figure. Yeon Gaesomun.

“Have enemies everywhere I go. I’m aware.” You say angrily, a bitter feeling erupting through your body. You feel everything, even though you can’t do anything about it. The man in front of you- your memory tells you it’s your father- sighs in frustration.

“You will be escorted by a guard every where you go. Consider him your knight, he will ensure your safety.” He says sternly, and you can feel that the topic is not up for debate anymore. This makes you groan in annoyance, already rising from your position to leave. You bow to the king, leaving the usual salutations before turning around and exiting the hall.

A boy enters your line of vision with a careful step. His presence sends a surge of warmth through you, a feeling you’ve never felt in your life. He smiles at you and his youth shines through his eyes, much like yours. He was far too happy to be a guard for your father.

“Princess, I am Jung Yoon oh, it is an honor to be your guard.” You eye the boy up and down, his voice sounds gentle and naïve and he appeared to be close to your age.

“My father chose you to be my guard?” You say indifferently, not taking the hand he had offered. The boy straightens up, puffing his shoulders in confidence. His hand retreats to his side quickly, curling into fists as his body straightens.

“I’m one of the best warriors in Goguryeo. A prodigy, if you will. It would have been ludicrous for your father not to trust me with his precious daughter.” You roll your eyes at this, continuing to walk away without him. He trails behind you anyways, the sounds of his armor shaking as he steps.

“Of course my father chose you, he enjoys over confident men. He’s rather fond of people that are like himself.” Yoon oh ponders the insult for a second, before brushing it off as if it never happens. He only laughs awkwardly, adjusting to the step of your feet as your pace quickens. You’re trying to get rid of him, while he’s getting ready for a challenge.

“With all due respect, I do not think I’m much like your father.” He explains, and you encourage an elaboration with a squint of your eyes.

You step a little faster, his pace matching yours in less than a second. He almost laughs at your attempts, already aware of the length of your legs and how there was no way you would get out of his sight. You try to throw him off by distracting him with questions, “Is that so? Why do you believe that?”

“I’m not too concerned with power.” He speaks with a strained voice, more focused on keeping up with you then answering your questions completely, “I’m more concerned with the people.”

“Are you insinuating that my father is not?” You fake a suspicious tone though you agreed. That was how it worked; you had learned of corrupted kings, and violent tyrants who thirsted for power, you were well aware that one was your father.

This throws the boy off guard, because his face drops and his feet pause for a split second. “That’s not what I meant,- I-“ He fumbles over his words, and you let out a laugh at his lack of composure. He notices this, his expression changing from embarrassment to a pointed glare when you’re not looking. “Princess,” He whispers closer to your ear, his pace looking more like a fast walk compared to your light jog, “Distract me all you want, you still cannot outrun me.” He says, and you side-eye him without turning your head. Your pace reaches maximum speed and you find yourself sprinting around the corner. You hear the clatter of his armor close behind you anyways, despite your valiant effort, and a hand clasps your waist to stop you before you can comprehend. He was right.

Your body pivots under the strength of his single arm and you’re met with the sturdiness of his chest. Shock fills you as you look up at the face that’s already looking down at you. A sick feeling follows after it, a feeling you’re unsure if you want to understand more. There was something about him that made you empty and full at the same time. You aren’t sure if you ever want to find out what that was.

“I warned you, princess.” His grip loosens but you’re instinctively still holding yourself against him. It’s a mix of impulse and habit but it washes away as you take a step back.

“Stop calling me that.” You say through pants, trying to catch your breath.

“Why? That’s what you are.”

Suddenly, a solemn feeling overwhelms your body, and you can’t help but feel pity for the body you’re in. Yet, this body was yours, you were almost sure of it. The memories, the scenery, the thoughts, and actions felt so genuine that they couldn’t possibly be anyone else but you. And you knew whoever you were now, wanted nothing more than to be free.

“I don’t want to be.” Was all you say before you feel a tingling surge through your body. The feeling of a thousand needles pricking you moves like a wave across your body, as your surroundings slowly shift to your usual classroom. Ms. Park is standing over you, a look of disappointment painted across her face.

“Have a good sleep?” She asks, her arms crossing as you sit up from your position. You cough, wishing that the eyes that were piercing into you would disappear. You awkwardly laugh as you avoid her gaze.

“Sorry. Sleep deprivation, at it again.” You mutter, Ms. Park clearly not taking it. She nods anyways, pretending to believe you as she continues her lecture.

But you’re still sitting there, left with the motley emotions that filled you just seconds ago. A mess of questions swirls around your consciousness, and your attempts to sort or answer them become futile. Where were you just a few moments ago and why has it provoked so many emotions you don’t understand? Was the person you were, actually you? Who was that boy?

The boy, the guard, Yoon oh. You remember your encounter vividly, but his face couldn’t quite stick.

Class ends with a slow, excruciating pace and all you want to do is sleep for the rest of your days. The remaining class periods go by in mundane blurs, your thoughts taking over your entire mind. You’re far too distracted to care for Camus’ philosophy.

“Y/n” You feel a nudge on your shoulder, only the second catches your attention, “y/n?” A student beside you looks at your from her seat in front, her hands holding a pencil over the worksheet you were supposed to be doing, “Are you okay?”

You laugh, picking up your pencil to continue your work and nod your head a little too aggressively, “yeah of course, just, distracted.” Your friend eyes you suspiciously, continuing to copy down the answers from her phone.

“Clearly.” Her eyes are focused on the papers and screen but she speaks up again without looking up at her phone, “Must be an off day today, people have been falling asleep left and right today.” She yawns, stretching her arms behind her self, “Come to think of it, I might take a snooze right now.”

You laugh, the weight on your chest feeling a little lighter by the second. Your friend settles herself onto the desk, resting her head on her arms and closing her eyes.

“Wait you were serious? We didn’t even finish our worksheet.”

Believing the bizarre spectacle would end once you have some shuteye definitely proved it self as soon as your head hits the pillow. The same memory plays over and over again, like a constant playback through your dreams. You would have remembered the guards face like the back of your hand, if only your brain would let you remember it. But maybe it was your mind stopping you, maybe it was something much bigger than you could envision.

The next morning comes, after you reject the mere thought of sleeping. This time, you really were sleep deprived when you walked into Ms. Park’s class with a large cup of coffee at hand. She looks at you with a smile from her desk, grading papers in front of her.

“You look tired, y/n. Planning on catching some Zs today too?” She jokes with you, and you take a seat at your desk. You reply with a fatigued grunt, receiving a laugh from your teacher, “I’m surprised you dozed off yesterday. I thought you would find this stuff interesting.”

“It is, I’m just having, an off week.” You say unsure of your own answer, but lacking the energy to think of another answer. You guess that your teacher wouldn’t be too enthused that her student is having outlandish visions about her lesson plans.

“I guess it’s one of those weeks. I’m worn out too, so are the students in my other classes I assume. It’s the end of the year, I guess it’s just that time for you students to be a little spent.” She reassures you and watches the students filter through the door. She greets each one with a smile, only to be answered with a few silent waves. The bell rings, indicating the beginning of class and Ms. Park nearly jumps from her seat. “Okay class! Let’s get started shall we? Where did I leave off yesterday? Oh yeah, Emperor Taizong,” She pulls another portrait of a man, adorned with tradition Chinese clothing onto the screen, “remember this guy? He just succeeded in killing Yeon Gaesomun, and is plotting his first campaign against Goguryeo, while Gaesomun’s successors are battling it out for power.”

You speak up fast, not realizing you’re talking until Ms. Park eyes are on you, “He’s dead?” You say almost solemnly, earning a look of disbelief from your teacher.

“Of course he’s dead. He’s like, centuries old.” A student says from behind you, snickering a moment later. Ms. Park stifles a laugh but your look of discontent tells her to react differently.

“Yes, he was assassinated, remember?” You nod slowly, remembering the event, but in a completely different way Ms. Park anticipates. Your lack of response allows for Ms. Park to continue talking, well, you think she does. By now you’re already fading into oblivion once again. Just like you had the day before.

You’re sitting in a courtyard, your legs dangling off of a stone wall. You feel a wave of sadness rush over you, the uneasiness feeling more like fear of something than grief. The guard from before steps in front of you and searches your eyes for a sign of life. He seems older now, you seem older now, and the connection between you two must have become something more from the way his hands graze your arms. Your heart beats a little faster when you know he’s around, and you want to smile when he speaks.

“You’re father’s dead.” He says carefully, worried his words may break you.

“I know. “ You reply emotionlessly, your eyes shifting to your feet in the dirt. He sighs in front of you, shaking his head. You catch yourself tracing the lines of his face, memorizing each emotion as they become vividly painted in your mind. You want to keep the image of his face with you, never letting it go, but you know that cannot be done. No matter how hard you try to.

“Are you okay?” He lifts your head with his hand to face him. A feeling of relief rushes through you but you’re not quite sure why. Something must have happened to between the two of you to make it so easy for him to touch you like this, you wish you knew what it was. You stand up from your spot on the wall, his height clearly towering over you. You look up, a stern look upon your face, trying not to open yourself up.

“Do you think I can afford to not be? My father is dead, but life will go on, and the country will not stop its chaos because I cannot get my emotions under control. “

Silence answers you first, the boy thinking of the right words to say. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands clasping each other, desperately wanting to hold yours to reassure you he’s there. You feel his eyes burning through you when he speaks, “You’re still allowed to be sad. You can cry it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” For a second you believe you will, but another coarse voice sounds from behind you.

“Sister! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You would think it would be easier, I’m quite good at finding beautiful things.” Your brother crudely wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you away from the guard in front of you. You remember his name to be Yeon Namsaeng, the oldest son of the late ruler. His mouth dripped with greed whenever he spoke, and you were well aware of his insatiable desire for power. Yoon oh’s body physically stiffens, and his jaw clenches with annoyance. Your brother eyes the boy, disgust filling his features, his eyes squinting in a judgmental glare. “I see you’re still following the Princess around. My fathers dead you know, his orders no longer need to be carried out.”

Yoon oh laughs, and the grip around your waist tightens just enough to be painful, “If the Princess wants me to stay, I am obligated to follow my lady’s orders.”

“She is not your lady. She’s mine-“ He pauses to think over his words, “she is my sister, not some pile of dirt’s woman. That’s the biggest insult I’ve heard to the royal family.”

“Let her tell me that.” He answers quickly, and you know his eyes have never left yours since your brother appeared. Your brother’s gaze also shifts to you, his eyes prodding you for the right answer. You look up at your brother, a sense of hatred sweeping through your emotions.

“Let him stay, he has served me well thus far. I am in need of loyal guards during this time.” You wriggled yourself out of his grasp, his arm reluctantly letting go. You begin walking away, gesturing for the guard to follow you out. You feel the rage burning through the back of both of your heads, and it takes every bit of you to not hold Yoon oh’s hand out of spite for your brother.

“Your brother is,” He starts, but stops himself before he says the wrong words; you finish his sentence for him.

“Repulsive?” You say quickly, earning a laugh from the boy, “But he is the rightful successor, and he has power. I cannot imagine what he has planned for my other brothers.”

“What will you do?” He asks, you shrug and kick the dirt beneath your feet.

“Try to stay alive.”

The more you learned, the more you wanted to scream, the vivid dreams haunting your sleep, leaving you shuddering between your sheets late at night. Deep in your mind laid a world of destruction, war and chaos. Most of the servants you acquainted yourself with either dead or too scared to be affiliated with the royal family.

When Ms. Park spoke of the tyrannical rule of Yeon Namsaeng, you lived through it. You watched him murder peasants that sparked his suspicion, plot against your youngest brother, who had defected into the Silla empire and his rapacious desire for wealth and love tear you apart.

Presently, you sit beside Yoon oh in your quarters. You’re tending to his wounds, each touch of your hand making him wince in pain. He bites his lip to refrain from making noises, for if anyone to know he was here, your brother would be after you as well. Relentless despair corners every bit of your already spent conscious. The four walls that previously surrounded you disintegrate before your eyes, desks and books fade into the oblivion. A dimly lit fire flickers back and forth, creating silhouettes of two jaded souls connecting into one entity.

His back is to you, but you want to see him, you want to see his face so badly. The mere thought of his soft features brought youncomfort whenever you had the chance to see him, because you knew the image would abscond within seconds of returning to reality. Yoon oh is trying not to look at you though, you can tell when you feel his eyes glance at you through the corners of his eyes and how his fist clench in frustration when his head hesitates to turn. Yoon oh doesn’t want to talk, so you occupy yourself with his wound. It was the result of a futile attempt to end his life, an order that was set by your brother. Yet, he would never admit to this fact if you asked. Yeon Namsaeng had regretfully sent Goguryeo’s best men into battle, having no choice to take Yoon oh away from you. It was for the good of the country, he tells you and you should prepare for the worst if anything should happen.

What your brother didn’t tell was that he had already put a bounty on his head, paying a soldier to go into battle with your guard only to murder him on the battlefield and report the news as a casualty from enemy lines. Yoon oh tells you this when he returns, the wound in his shoulder still fresh and ready for your care. He says he figures that your brother hadn’t accounted for his talent as a warrior.

An arrogant boy he was, but yours nonetheless.

That was the only thing he said to you, before you suggest he leave the palace to find safety since your brother will not be providing that anymore. As soon as the idea leaves your lips, Yoon oh responds with a stern “no”, and you insinuate his tone means you should leave the subject at rest.

“I’m finished.” You mutter, cleaning your hands in a piece of cloth, crimson staining the white fabric. Your eyes are downcast when Yoon oh pulls his garments back on his body and turns to you. The air between you feels suffocating, at least to your lungs it does. You don’t see it, but you can feel the way Yoon oh looks at you with such a miffed expression.

“Never suggest anything like that again.” His voice is strong, it almost scares you if not the fact you knew him so well. You scoff at this, not understanding his reasoning as he speaks.

“Why? It’s surely the safest possibility. My brother cannot hurt you if you’re gon-“

“But he will be able to do as he pleases with you.” He replies fast, not leaving any opening for you to respond yourself. “I will not leave you. I can’t leave you. That will never be a possibility in a thousand years.” His expression softens when you look up at him. Your eyes are filled with fear, and you grab his hand tightly. He holds yours back instantly, the small piece of contact between you sending electrifying waves through both of your bodies. He brings his other hand to your face, grazing over your features softly. “And if your brother ever forces me to go again,” He pulls your face to his, leaving a chaste kiss onto your lips, the moment feeling euphoric to you. When he pulls away, he keeps your face close to his and his eyes scan your lips, desperately wanting to kiss you again, “I will always return to you, princess.”

Within the next second, you wake up in your bed, your alarm indicating that you’re probably late. But that doesn’t concern you because you’re crying. You’re sobbing and every inch of your body feels numb to everything around you. Because, the reason you’re crying becomes apparent each second you’re trapped in this labyrinth of lost memories.

He doesn’t keep his promise.

The next time you see Yoon oh, you know that it’s before you had accepted your feelings for each other. Because when he greets you, he refrains from grazing your arm like he had when he was in your quarters from the last memory. You acknowledge his presence with a nod, and he bows to you as he always had.

“What are you doing here?” You ask angrily, your hushed tone sounding harsh though you didn’t mean it to. You had run away from the palace, escaping in the dark of the night only to be followed by your guard. Your father was still alive, but you felt dead inside. You had lost of your freedom by now, your father forcing you to make alliances with noble families, and detain you to your room when you were traveling. You were nothing more than a peacemaker, a façade to represent your father. He needed you to gain the nobles affection, he had figured that was what you did best.

Even pawns get tired of being used, though.

“I’m here to tell you you’re being foolish.” Yoon oh says to you with an annoyed tone, grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling you towards his direction. You struggle under his grip and resist with all your strength. You pry his hands off and throw it to the side.

“What right do you have to treat me like this?” You ask, your tone sounding like a mix of betrayal and anger. How could he bring you back when he knew how you felt. He of all people had to understand.

He turns to you with a sigh, his hand grabbing your wrist once more, “I’m a warrior, I do not need to be liked by you princess, just need to protect you.” You squint your eyes at him, still not budging when he pulls your body, “the people need you, princess. You’re the only piece of the royal family that has compassion for their country.”

“I cannot do anything to help my people, therefore I am no use.” You say solemnly, earning a pitiful expression from Yoon oh. He loosens his grip on your wrist to slide his hand down to yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You have the ability to give people hope. You must keep fighting for your people, that is what makes you a far better person than your family.” He squeezes your hand gently and you smile at his gesture. Though it’s dark, you see him smile at you fondly, an expression you wanted to keep with you forever.

It’s silent for a moment between the two of you, and Yoon oh waits until your ready to return. His hand still holds yours tightly. You ponder your next question for a moment, wondering if you should even ask in the first place.

“Are you here because it’s your duty to me or because of your personal desires?” You ask anyways, and Yoon oh looks at you, slightly surprised.

He thinks for a moment before answering, “I tried to convince myself that it’s the former.”

“Did it work?” You ask immediately, and Yoon oh laughs at your curiosity. He gestures his head towards the palace and begins pulling you with him. This time you comply to hear his answer. The two of you walk hand in hand for a moment before Yoon oh leans in close to you, his lips grazing your ear when he does.

“No.”

The end of the unit was nearing, and you couldn’t be more satisfied. You had hoped that whatever was happening to you, would cease once you had stopped learning about it in class.

You simply had to endure, as much as you could at least, and this would all be over. Yet for some reason, a part of you believed it wasn’t quite that simple. When her last lecture rolled around, you had faded once again much to your expectation. Within seconds of her speech, you find yourself pressed against a wall; your breath shallow trying to conceal the fact that you were there. You’re in Yoon oh’s quarters, you knew this from the sound of his voice on the other side of the screen that hid you. When the other voice in the room speaks, you knew exactly why you were hiding.

Your brother had paid Yoon oh a visit in the dead of the night, probably expecting to find you. The two of them spoke in equally annoyed tones, but when Yoon oh spoke, you could almost see the venom that he spat at the king.

“You want to marry your sister?” Yoon oh asks, your body tensing up at the thought. You despised loveless marriages, almost as much as you despised your brother. You shudder at the thought, disgust overwhelming your body. You want to scream at your brother, tell him that you would never marry a grotesque pig like him.

“I cannot do so, if her heart belongs to a measly warrior,” His voice sounds eerily like a snake’s hiss, and you to desperately want show yourself to him in spite. But you know if you were to do so, you’re brother would not hesitate to get rid of Yoon oh out of jealousy. He continues with the same menacing screech he usually spoke with, “She fights with her life in everything she does, but of course you should know this. You know her awfully well by now, don’t you?”

The question sounds more like a threat but you know Yoon oh well enough that he wouldn’t give in.

“You are disgusting.” He mutters, only to be followed by the awful laugh of your brother.

“But marriage of true blood is the only way to go these days. It’s the only way to keep the line strong.” You hold in a scoff, knowing that this was not the only reason. You’re brother had always been eerily protective of you after all, keeping you away from everyone else when you were children. Your mother had questioned his intentions often, trying to shield you from his advances. But your mother was gone now anyways, and even she couldn’t protect you for this long. You noticed his glares at your brothers whenever you spoke to them fondly, the mere thought making you want to vomit.

“Your marriage to her, is it just for political reasons?” Yoon oh asks, his temper already far from salvation. You could see their silhouettes through the paper screen, and the slight step Yoon oh had taken toward your brother. The boy was ready to strangle the other, and the tension between the two was smothering you.

“Part of it. Part of it is that I hear the voices of the people. How they adore her, how they believe there will be no woman of the kingdom just like her. I cannot stand Goguryeo’s most beloved woman falling for dirty scum. It taints her absolute innocence in a way, and beautifully rich people deserve beautifully rich things.” Your brother snickers as he speaks, his pompous nature making you sick.

It must have affected Yoon oh more however, because you hear a thump against the wall and the sound of his sword being drawn. You curse at Yoon oh for not keeping his temper, knowing that your brother will use this to his advantage.

“If you touch her I will-“

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not threatening a king are you?”

“My duty is to protect the princess. If that is the case, I will do anything for her.”

“Even give your life?” Your brother asks, his tone sounding far too suspicious for your liking. Yet, Yoon oh answers without a single ounce of uncertainty.

“Of course.”

You’re brother doesn’t speak for a moment, perhaps not expecting his willingness for you. You hear his footsteps against the floor of the room, until a shadow stand before you through the screen. You hold your breath, gripping your garments in your fist as you bite you lip. The figure crouches down as if he’s in front of you, and you feel like you can see your brother’s eyes boring into yours with a smug smile across his lips.

“Remember what you heard today, sister.”

Your breath is caught in your throat when your vision is suddenly catapulted into a new scene. You are no longer in Yoon oh’s quarter, and your brother is no longer in front of you, but you still feel the remnants of the fear that your were previously submerged in.

It’s weeks after the last, petrifying encounter, and you know you have done anything in your power to gain your brother’s favor. You have complied to his every order in hopes that he wouldn’t carry out his threat to Yoon oh. You felt terribly trapped again, never having the freedom to leave your quarters unless requested by your brother, but you couldn’t come to regret it now as long as Yoon oh remained safe.

You saw him a few times, greeted him even fewer yet the time you were allotted to speak to him were too short for comfort. He would send you comforting glances, the only thing he could do when your brother had been keeping a continuous eye on you.

Now, your brother has called you to the courtyard, just in front of the gates to the palace. He wears disgustingly gaudy robes; with an equally disgusting smirk adorning his dreadful face. His gold rings taps against the chair he sits on, guards flanking both sides of him. You stand at the stop of the stairs and send a glare towards your brother, long enough for him to see.

“Brother, why have you called me here? Are you not supposed to be on the battlefield?” Your reprimanding tone crawls beneath your brother’s skin, and his fists fill with his own garments as he tries to contain his annoyance. He knew what you were insinuating, that behind his regal façade, he was never a warrior that could fight for his country. He hated the fact that you knew this.

He swallows his rage, the actions feeling dry against his throat. What follows is a smile, a silently crude remark as he’s already laughing at your misfortune, “I wanted to show you something. Something that has peaked my interest these past couple of days” He strides to you, his hands reaching your shoulders to turn you towards the gates of the palace. You reluctantly allow him to do so, sending him a malignant glare along the way.

The scene before you is shocking to say the least. You see the armor, the design you have nearly memorized by heart, covering a man before you. You try to make out a face, and your heart nearly stops when you see him, indicating only one plausible answer. His presence brings something both harrowing and comforting to your soul. Your voice shakes with the words you speak to your brother, “what is he doing here?”

A maniacal laugh rings behind you, hands tracing down your arms to harshly wrap around your wrists. You can feel the bruises forming beneath it as your brothers whispers along your ear, “Princess, this is what happens when you disobey a king’s order.”

The sound of broken tension erupts from feet behind you, a shower of arrows flying over your head. If you hadn’t known, you would think it a sky of shooting stars, dozens of wishes falling to their demise. If you hadn’t known, you would think it something of divine beauty, only manifested from ones dreams. If you hadn’t known, you would be breathing.

A bloodcurdling scream bursts through the seams, and it takes you a few seconds to realize it had come from you. Tears are falling mercilessly from the confinements of your eyes, and you are empty of any care to wipe them away. The eyes your staring into you are filled with an aching desire, one of the truly broken people. His jaded body merely keeps his gaze on you, the rust of his armor looking a thousand years old against the fresh gold inlaid within the gates.

You’re yelling for him to move, to do something-anything- because you feel the excruciating weight crushing your heart as every millisecond passes. A sharp sensation flows through your limbs, rendering them useless to any act of opposition. You have half a thought to come running forward, but know it’ll be too late.

Before you know it, his body becomes a grotesque canvas of musky browns and dark crimsons as the full force of the arrows bring him his demise. The first one finds leave within his shoulder, dragging him down with it until the next finds itself in his stomach. The chaos that ensues is scarring, the image of such a beautiful body being marred by agonizing wounds. But he does not scream.

In fact, though you felt the pain of the hundreds of arrows impaling his figure, you swear, through the blurry haze of your tears, you saw a smile. You were sure of it.

“No, no, please come back to me, please. Someone save him!” You plead for help, but as you searched the motley crew behind you, the world began to fade into a swirl of ash and dust. Pillars were replaced with wooden shelves, the stone you knelt upon became carpet, and the man beside you is soon a worried arm wrapped around your shoulder. Your belongings were cluttered on the floor, mountains of papers surrounding you. Ms. Park’s worried gaze beside you is paired with her tight hold on your body.

“Y/n, is everything okay?”

You sit in your desk, as requested by Ms. Park after your previous outburst during class. She told you she wanted to speak to you, to figure this all out, but when you enter the classroom your greeted with a note on the white board and another boy sitting in the front desk.

Back in 5

You read the note, nodding as you place the note back on the board and turn to the boy who sits behind you. You were already aware that has his gaze hadn’t left you as soon as you walked in, but you don’t expect him to continue staring when you turn around. You awkwardly wave to him, only to receive no response. You can envision the gears working and turning in his head as his eyebrows furrow in deep thought. You take a seat, on the other side of the room, and pull out your phone. The boy gets up from his seat, and finds one next to yours and you eye him suspiciously.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and you never believed that someone couldn’t merely ask for someone’s name with such curiosity. The way he asks seems like knowing your name is the key to saving the world, and when you tell him he smiles to himself. The gesture feels strangely reassuring to you, and you can’t help but smile in return.

“I’m Jaehyun.” He says sweetly and holds out a hand for you to take. You oblige and shake his hand, the lingering contact sending a strange wave of a slight sting through you. He holds your hand for almost too long, and you’re already feeling the awkwardness creep up again. You cough and let go of his hand, retreating back to your phone immediately. It’s been far more than five minutes by now, yet Ms. Park is still nowhere to be seen. You figure she got distracted on her way back.

The silence is deafening in ways you don’t understand and a piece of you wants to speak up. Something about this boy, gives you an eerie vibe and you can’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu deep inside. You glance at him through the corner of your eyes, the boy nervously tapping on his desk.

“You get them too don’t you?” He asks, breaking the silence and you sit up to look at him. He looks at you like he already know the answer, but you aren’t quite following his query.

“What?” You ask, completely oblivious.

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, “the visions, the emptiness,” He pauses before his face softens at you. He looks at you like he has known you, though you have just met a few seconds ago, you can’t help but feel pained by his expression, “the sick feeling that the one you love may be gone forever and you can’t do anything about it.” He whispers and you stare at him for a moment. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about him was strangely comforting to you. You wanted to see him more often, if not for the stupidly sickening feeling his presence gave you. You shook your head, not wanting to reveal your experience with him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leans in closer to you, his hand laying flat against your desk, “I know you do.”

“And how’s that?” You ask, turning your face to him, the proximity of your faces sending shivering down your spine. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating, and your attempting to slow down your breath. He reaches a hand to your face, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. His eyes scan the details of your face in a way that makes you feel awfully empty.

“A warrior never forgets the girl he’s sworn to protect.” Your face visibly drops, and Jaehyun clearly notices because his face moves closer slightly. You snap out of the nostalgic haze you were once in, firmly pushing him away from you. He looks at you hurt, his hand still holding where you pushed him. You stand from your seat, arms folding into each other to close yourself off from him as much as possible.

“Are you crazy?” When you ask, Jaehyun merely shrugs in acceptance.

“Call me what ever you want, whatever is happening to me is happening to you too. I know they are, and I know that I’m in those visions. Don’t you recognize me?”

“No I don’t. And I don’t know why you would think you were.”

He sighs, rubs his eyes and leans farther into his chair. He’s soon standing across from you, studying your face carefully, “because you’re in my visions. Except I’m convinced they aren’t visions at all.” He says and you cross your arms expectantly.

“And what do you suppose they are?”

“Memories. Y/n, I know you already think I’m crazy but hear me out on this, have you ever thought of the possibility that we may have been connected in the past life? I see your face in every dream I have, and the history of it syncs completely with what we’re learning in class, I’m just saying that we could b-“

“Soul mates?” You ask with disbelief. You never liked giving credit to fate, and the mere concept of soul mates was ludicrous to you. These happenings were simply coincidences, and you didn’t want to think too hard into them. But the look on Jaehyun’s face desperately wants you to believe him too. The boy has already fallen completely into his past life, his and his past lives’ memories merging into one being. This Jaehyun has completely accepted the young guard he once was, and he’s already in love with who he believes you are.

Yet you didn’t understand why he could remember you so easily, and you struggled to keep his face in your mind. You were never able to hold on to the image for long enough, but Jaehyun had memorized every detail of your face just as he had centuries ago.

“You’re ridiculous, Jaehyun. Honestly.” You scoff and walk away from him, preparing to leave the room. Before you can, Jaehyun darts past the mess of desks that surround you. He grabs his wrist in a frenzied last attempt to keep you near.

“You’re not going to get away from me this easily,” He says arrogantly, and you scoff at his cockiness, “Run away all you want, I will always return to you, princess.”

Princess. The way he says it is like a hand punching you in the stomach. The air that flows through your lungs is snatched away from you and a pained gasp escapes you. Princess. It curses your very being, sending your mind, body and soul into a dark abyss. You’re not sure if you want to escape. Princess. A smile, a gentle smile with good intentions, one you haven’t seen in a long time. A smile, it’s his smile, the smile that’s in front of your face.

But it can’t be. Everything you’re seeing isn’t real; none of it is real.

Jaehyun must have seen the surprise painted across face because he’s still holding onto you, hands on your shoulders now to keep you steady. Every word he speaks after is a knife in your chest “Is everything all right, y/n?” He says in a knowing tone, wiping the tears from your face. You hadn’t noticed you were crying.

You straighten up and cough, trying to brush off the sudden moment of vulnerability, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, leave me alone.” You coldly remove yourself from his grip and open the door to exit.

His face falls. You try to not notice how much it hurts you too. He watches you as you leave, tears already threatening the corners of his eyes, “You’re still as stubborn as ever, princess.”

You stop halfway out the door, and your eyes are still fixated on the floor, “Don’t call me that.”

Jaehyun laughs before answering, “Why? That’s what you are.” You shake your head and escape from his sights, a myriad of thought rushing through you. You feel dizzy, like all the oxygen you were breathing had been cut off. Your strides become sloppy, and you’re struggling to keep yourself up, until a pair of arms holds you.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Ms. Park asks, worry striking her face. You want to tell her about the weight that pressed against your chest, the one that feels like a thousand years of grief. You want to scream, you want all of this to be over, but most of all a part of you wanted to see Jaehyun again. His smile flickers in the depths of your mind, and the way he looks at you make you feel both empty and full. A feeling you’re quite familiar with. Your breaths are shallow, and right before you fade out completely, you aren’t quite able to tell Ms. Park what you wanted to say.

You remember. You’re finally remembering.

When you wake up, you’re back in your royal attire. You sit in the grass, in front of the pond you used to play with your brothers in. Except this time, instead of your brothers, Yoon oh sits beside you. His face is the same as the one you saw moments before, and for once you finally feel like you would actually remember it. He smiles at you fondly, hands playing with yours in his lap. He stares at the stars, but your staring at him. You watch the way he bites his lips in concentration, trying to find the constellations you told him about before. The prominent dimples make him look boyishly handsome, and his fair skin glows in the moonlight. He turns to you, a smile already painted across his face.

“What are you thinking, princess?” He asks, his voice low and melodic. You swear you could listen to the sound forever.

“Will we be happy in our next lifetime?” Yoon oh laughs, squeezing your hands as he intertwines your fingers.

“We are happy now, aren’t we?” He asks, but you shake your head in response.

“Yoon oh, we’re with each other in secret. Everyday, we risk getting executed by my own family. I cannot marry you, unless we leave the palace. And if we ever do there will be a bounty on your head. This isn’t happy, this is fear.” Yoon oh smiles at you softly before pressing your hands to his lips in a sweet gesture. When he looks up, your already leaning into him, your faces ever so close. He places a gentle kiss on your lips, eyes lingering to watch the way you smile under his touch. This was the first time he has kissed you, a moment you would cherish forever.

“Any lifetime I live with you will be a happy one.”

You snap out of your dream with a hand shaking your shoulder. Ms. Park sits beside you while you lay in the nurses office, relief filling her features when you open your eyes.

“Oh thank god, I thought you were a goner.” She jokes and you sit up from your position, “Sorry I was late, didn’t expect my errand to last that long.”

“You did it on purpose.” You mutter and Ms. Park tilts her head in innocence, “You wanted me to meet that boy in there, didn’t you?” She shrugs, giving you enough of an answer.

“Both of you were going through the same thing. I figured the was some kind of connection, besides, I love this soul mate stuff.” She smiles and scrunches her nose at you. You still feel weak when you turn your body towards her, falling back onto the bed. “He described your face to me when I asked him who he saw. It was enough evidence for me.”

“Is that really a thing? Someone looking exactly like they had in their past life?” She nods at your question, trying to find the exact words to answer you with.

“There are few cases when the face of a person follows them through another lifetime.” She says with a steady gaze on your face. You can feel the pity that saturates her expression, her eyes pleading with you.

“Is there an explanation for it?”

She smiles, her hand reaching out for yours to send a tight squeeze. Her voice sounds more like a whisper, as if a secret not even meant for her; a secret meant for you and him, “They are meant to be found again.” You nod, already half knowing her answer before she says it, you were just waiting to hear it out loud.

The nurse and Ms. Park send you home, despite your opposition. You need to talk to Jaehyun, tell him everything, but Ms. Park informs you that he didn’t show up to her class and he likely ditched school for the day. You reluctantly comply, knowing you won’t get better if you don’t get some rest.

But when you come back to school next day, Jaehyun is still nowhere to be found, and you get more anxious each day you don’t get to speak with him. Through investigation, you learn that his friends haven’t seen him either, and a week goes by with you having to bear this terrible numbness on your own. Another week goes by, and you’re greeted by Ms. Park’s smiling face as soon as you walk through her door. You curiously tilt your head at her and she takes a step closer to you.

“Guess who I saw in Mr. Johnson’s room, making up a test?” Your face perks up and you don’t wait for her to continue.

You’ve never felt more awake in the morning, but now you feel like you could run a thousand miles. Before you even realize it, your stomping your way through another classroom, eyes scanning the faces that line the desks till your gaze falls on your target. Your hand beckons at the curly brown tufts, face buried in a thick white packet, “I need to talk to you.” He looks at you with an uncomfortable grin when he scratches the back of his head. He glances at his teacher and back to you, trying to think of an excuse to avoid you. He doesn’t want to talk, you know this, you’re the one who hurt him after all but you figure he will want to hear what you have to say.

He lets out a cough, tearing his gaze away from your piercing eyes, your body shakes from the constant feeling of emptiness that has filled you, “I’m busy, I’ll talk to you la-“

“I remember.” You interrupt him, unaware of the onslaught of tears that threaten your composure. He looks at you shocked, unable to fabricate the words he so desperately wants to say. Before you have time to acknowledge his movements, he’s already grabbing your hand, pulling you out of the classroom. You hastily turn your head to his teacher, sending him a quick apology, as Jaehyun pays no respect to him or his test.

You watch as he walks in front of you, your heart beat speeding up every time you catch sight of his face. The familiarity splitting your very being apart as you watch every memory play through your head vividly. You’ve seen this face and you can’t fathom how terribly you missed it. The way his eyes look onto you like you have pieced together the universe with your bare hands, or how his hands burn against your skin in such a bittersweet sensation you don’t know how you could ever let go. Then there’s his lips, and how they quirk into a slight smile as he laughs and mutters a quick I love you, whenever your near. Every detail of their soft, pink presence is painted into your mind, kept with you forever. You remember how they felt, though he always kissed you with such haste as they lined your frame in the purple wisps of the twilight.

He has you against the wall, searching your face for confirmation of what you had just said to him a few moments ago. His hands grip your shoulders, loosening almost as soon as they’re on you. “What did you say?”

“You left me.” You say through a whimper, his hand coming up to wipe the tears away. He wants to kiss you, hesitating when he has your face close enough to his, it’s been so long he doesn’t know if he can so easily. Your hands grip the side of his shirt, the energy that surrounds your bodies, drowns the both of you. You gasp for air, still letting your face be held in his hands, close enough to feel his lips after thousands of years, “You let my brother send you off to your death. You let him shoot you even though you knew. You let him make me watch. You could have stayed with me, why didn’t you stay with me, I just wanted to be with you.” You lift your hands to his chest and Jaehyun sighs in return, tears falling from his own eyes, mixing with your to make a tragic concoction of lost memories.

“I’m sorry, princess. He said he would kill you if I stayed, I couldn’t let that happen, you had so much life in you.”

“I married a my brother. I was dead inside without you.” He presses his forehead to yours, as if to reassure you that he was there, alive in front of you. God did he miss you. “I begged the Gods to kill me, every day. I wanted to see you so badly, they couldn’t even kill me out of pity. “

“But they listened, they heard you and you’re here with me now and we’re safe.”

“We can be happy in this lifetime?”

“Any lifetime I live with you will be a happy one.” With that, Jaehyun finally lets go of everything that has been holding him back, because you look at him with those eyes he has known all to well and he can no longer stop himself. He kisses you, and it doesn’t matter how he does it or how long he does, all that matters is that he’s kissing you, you’re kissing him back and the both of you have been waiting for this moment –quite literally- for centuries.

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