#It's not DIFFERENT!!! There's no CHANGE!!! anyway I want a million rewrites only no more shipping thank youuuu

[trans-leek-cookie]

fuck shipping fuck fluff fuck smut fuck whump fucking modern/fantasy AUs the only fanfic that should be acceptable for a few years should be "for want of a nail". I want PLOT

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

Lovestarved (Rewrite)

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted [...], but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...” “’Thank you’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “What have I told you, Flug? Your… gratitude…” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“ He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “Thank you.” He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms. After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, flat-toned, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.”

Okay look I know the White Hat fic’s been a long time coming and I’m definitely still working on it, but oh my god the complete and utter abomination that was the original Lovestarved fic was driving me completely insane, I HAD to give it a revamp for my own peace of mind lmfao, my GOD, IT WAS SO BAD YOU GUYS IDC WHAT YOU SAY I'M SORRY SZTEFA BUT YOU'RE W R O N G LMAO

So anyway, have the not-perfect-but-still-very-much-improved fanfic of a Monster!Flug x BH slowburn in which these idiots keep idioting around each other 24/7 until things happen lol (Btw one of my mutuals recently got instabanned for merely mentioning a certain phrase, so since I’m not sure how tumblr is deciding to auto-flag posts and I don’t wanna go through the headache of having to get my account reactivated again, this post is only the first half of the fic (the safe portion lol) and then there’ll be a link to the AO3 version at the bottom of this post for when things start to get on the risqué side.)

And of course, this fic series is based on this wonderful fic right here!

Previous works in chronological order: Hired, Don’t Try to Run, Lovestarved, Trial & Trust, Deeper Than Skin, A Small Solace, In Sickness and in Health, Benefit of the Doubt, Just Another Word I Never Learned to Pronounce, Merry (Late) Christmas, Compromise

Flug had never intended for this to happen.

Never in a million years had he planned on revealing this part of him to anybody , let alone Black Hat himself. Sadly, it’s not easy to sweep the unfortunate incident of devouring a test subject right in front of him under the rug. Then again, given his boss’s nature of being able to slip into any room unnoticed, perhaps Flug should’ve prepared for such an inevitable possibility. 

Oh well. Too little, too late, as some might say. At least Black Hat hadn’t reacted as negatively as Flug thought he might. On the contrary, in fact, Black Hat seemed to find Flug’s otherworldly nature quite amusing. Yet another reaction that his scientist perhaps should’ve expected to some extent. 

What he never could’ve expected was the change in attitude, however.

Yes, ever since that day, Black Hat had been treating him differently. It was subtle enough that any bystander likely wouldn’t notice a difference in their relationship. But Flug definitely took notice, especially in how his superior spoke to him.

He was still his usual brash, hostile self, but every once in a while, sprinkled in between whatever myriad of scathing remarks and scoldings Flug would face on any given day (and even those had lessened significantly), Black Hat would sometimes praise him. The first time Flug heard the words “Good work” out of his boss’s mouth, he thought he’d been hallucinating, as that explanation seemed far more likely.

Furthermore, Black Hat continued to surprise Flug by not broadcasting his secret to the rest of the household. He’d been certain that his boss would’ve gotten a kick out of airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see, if only for the sole reason that Flug gravely didn’t want that. Yet, Black Hat held back. Didn’t speak a word about it to 5.0.5. or Demencia. Not that Flug would risk getting too comfortable in that regard, of course. Whatever Black Hat’s motivations may have been, it definitely wasn’t coming out of a place of respect for Flug’s privacy. Knowing his boss, he was probably just waiting for either of their housemates to walk in on him devouring someone so he could indulge in whatever chaos might unfold. Or perhaps there was some other reason that Flug hadn’t considered. He certainly knew better than to try and guess what Black Hat was thinking, regardless.

Not all of the changes in Black Hat’s behavior were so positive, though. For one thing, his unnerving fascination with Flug’s souleater half has led to some rather uncomfortable arrangements. On the one hand, Black Hat providing him with prey saves Flug the trouble of having to sneak around anymore to feed himself, but on the other, his boss had a peculiarly keen interest in watching him eat. That was already bad enough, having to put what Flug had tried so hard to keep hidden all his life on full display like that, but it was made even worse by how handsy Black Hat would sometimes get afterwards.

He had a particular fascination with Flug’s teeth. Whether or not that was out of some twisted sense of humor or out of a genuine curiosity of Flug’s species, the doctor couldn’t tell. All he knew is that it was uncomfortable. Every time those hands crinkled up the edges of that paper bag to expose his bloodied mouth, anxiety spiked within him at the mere thought of his mask being pulled off completely. Luckily for Flug, Black Hat never went that far, for the time being. 

“Why do you always do that…?” He had asked once, during one upon too many fang inspections to count.

There was a click of the tongue, Black Hat tilting Flug’s chin whichever way he wanted, as he gave his unconventional answer. “The soul residue intrigues me. Besides, it's the only part of your face I’ve seen thus far. I like to admire it at its bloodiest.” Then he’d flash one of his many shit-eating grins. “Given how long you’ve hidden this from me, I certainly have the right to catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

What could he possibly have been “missing”? He knew Black Hat to enjoy displays of violence the most when they had some heart in them. Flug’s only ever been timid and reluctant in the way that he feeds, unable to understand what entertainment value Black Hat could possibly be getting out of such mediocre murders.

On one particular day, however, the situation differed.

Their domain had fallen under siege by a particularly persistent team of heroes… It would’ve been an all-out attack if Dr. Flug hadn’t activated an emergency forcefield just in time. But for now, all they could do was wait these heroes out until they came up with a proper plan of retaliation. Their anti-hero merchandise was the best there was, of course, but with the sheer amount of opponents waiting outside, the villains were put in a particularly tricky situation. 

Black Hat could easily dispose of the problem, Flug knew for a fact. These heroes were mere ants to somebody with his unimaginable power. But, in typical Black Hat fashion, he chose to instead put this job on Flug and Demencia. 

While Flug could understand to some extent that such matters were too trivial and boring for his boss to face head-on, he had hoped the demon would’ve made an exception in this case. This situation had cut Flug, Demencia, and 5.0.5. off from the outside world until they could find a way around those heroes, which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the fact that it left Flug without sustenance to keep his monstrous half in check.

Unfortunately for him, Black Hat found more interest in watching how his employees would tackle the problem instead. Because, for him, the slightly-more-interesting route would always be preferred over the easy way out. It’s not like the health of his underlings has ever held priority over his own amusement, so Flug had no right to be surprised. He’d just have to persevere, and he wouldn’t dare complain about his hunger to Black Hat himself. Knowing him, he’d expect Flug to earn his food under these circumstances. The way Black Hat was constantly hanging around the laboratory as he worked further cemented that idea into his mind. 

Instead, he threw himself into his work as if that were an adequate distraction. He did everything he could to keep his mind busy, to keep himself distracted from anything that may lead to one of his episodes, but it was so damn hard when these hunger swings can be so unpredictable. One minute, he would be completely fine, but the next…

“Whatcha workin’ on, doc?”

Hunger making him more irritable than usual, the mere sound of Demencia’s voice had been enough to grate on his nerves these past weeks of siege. It was bad enough that his cravings were already slowing him down far too much, he didn’t need Dem’s constant pestering on top of his current inability to focus. 

Shaking those concerns out of his head, he was none too kind when he answered her. “Oh, I don’t know, Demencia, maybe a solution to our little problem out there?”

Unfazed by the mockery dripping from his voice, her desire for mischief was left perfectly intact. “Oooo, is it cool? Will it blow ‘em up? Liquidize their insides? Lemme see it!” 

She jumped for the flask, and Flug had barely enough reaction time within him to dodge her. “ Stop that! Do you want to get a cloud of knockout gas to the face!?” Flug barked, scrambling to keep his work from falling out of his hands. Once stabilized, he shot her a nasty glare. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpanned in response. Dramatically flopping into a nearby chair, Demencia kept up her annoying lamenting. “We’ve been stuck with those dumb heroes outside for like a week, I’m boooored.”

“Well good for you, but since I’m the only one around here that seems willing to fix this damn mess, I need to focus.” Flug snapped at her, voice raising alongside his frustration, “What I don’t need is some brain-dead halfwit breathing stupid questions down my neck the whole time!”

Demencia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at how intensely he came off. Sure, she could get on his nerves with relative ease, but he usually took it with more grace than that, even at times when he’d sic Hatbots on her. Even Black Hat glanced up from his newspaper upon hearing such unusual hostility growing in Flug, though he reserved comment. 

“Ouch,” Demencia remarked, although not especially offended. “Well, sorry Mr. Grumpypants, didn’t realize you were in such a mood today.” She chided him. “You skip your coffee this morning or what?”

Narrowed eyes shot one last dirty look at her before Flug tried to shift his focus back to his concoction at the lab table. Key word being tried , because before he knew it, he was doubling over from pain when his cravings hit him full-force. He was barely able to catch himself against the table, almost knocking over the work he’d previously scolded Demencia for endangering. 

Serving up a confused stare, Demencia frowned at him. “Uhh, Flug?”

The ruckus also woke 5.0.5. who’d been sleeping nearby, a worried grunt coming from him as he wandered over to see what was going on.

What Flug had feared all along was now fast approaching. This sort of thing was exactly what Black Hat wanted, wasn’t it? For him to expose himself to the others in as violent a manner as possible? And if so, then where the fuck was he? Flug could’ve sworn he was in the room a second ago, and hell, maybe he was too disoriented to know for sure, but he couldn’t see the demon anywhere. 

All he could lock his starving gaze onto was Demencia and 5.0.5., the clueless pair coming foolishly closer to check on him. They’d make easy targets. They were practically offering themselves up on a silver platter. How could Flug possibly refuse the instincts that were screaming at him to eat?

“Okay, Flug, this is weird, even for you.” 

For the briefest of moments, he saw his mother, so stupidly drawing nearer in his state of delirium. She should have known better. She made herself too easy of an antidote to his suffering. The exact same mistake that Demencia was making now.

He wished he could tell her to get away. He wanted desperately to warn her of what danger she was in. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stop himself from inching his starving body nearer, itching to dig his teeth into something –

“Demencia, step aside.” Black Hat’s familiar voice ordered from the doorway, yielding immediate compliance from her. With adept swiftness, he strode over to the unhinged doctor and proceeded to drag him away from his coworkers before any damage could be done, exiting the laboratory with Flug in tow, and leaving Demencia and 5.0.5. to their own confusion.

Black Hat dragged him through hallways and corridors, paying no mind to his scientist’s resistance. Flug’s thrashing wasn’t particularly troublesome for Black Hat, although he felt mild surprise to experience a jolt of pain inflicted by Flug’s fangs when they tried to find nourishment in the tendrils that restrained him. Judging from the retching and gagging that followed, Black Hat’s soulless form wasn’t exactly fine dining to him. 

They entered a darkened storage room, the only light source coming from a flickering bulb above that fought to stay lit. Within, there laid a hero, injured and bound in place by whatever impromptu restraints Black Hat could find in the moment. 

“Eat.” Black Hat ordered as he shoved Flug towards the helpless fool.

As if Flug needed any convincing. 

The second he was released from Black Hat’s grip, he lunged for the hero, tearing into him with such ruthless ferocity, ripping flesh out in bloody chunks that were strewn across the room with great fervor. The crackling and snapping of bones that’d dared get in the way of Flug’s relentless fangs was like music to Black Hat’s ears. The only way this could’ve been better was if the hero had remained alive long enough to scream.

Out of breath by the time Flug was through with him, it took almost a full minute for him to regain his composure. 

“My my, what a savage display.” Black Hat purred in amusement, drawing nearer to admire the carnage. “You’ve been holding out on me, doctor.”

“W-Wha… Wait, th-this is a hero f-from outs-side, isn’t it…?” Flug queried as he came back to his senses, casting a hesitant glance his boss’s way.

“They make for easy pickings. You looked like you needed something rather immediate.” Black Hat replied, wiping bloodied claws off on his clothes. With a disapproving quirk of the brow, he added, “You could have said something sooner , by the way. It’s not like I knew where your breaking point was.”

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted the drama and chaos that would’ve come with him attacking 5.0.5. or Demencia, but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...”

“’ Thank you ’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “We have been over this, doctor. Your… gratitude …” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“

He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled against Black’s. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “ Thank you. ”

He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms.

After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, his voice flat and rigid, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.” 

With that, the demon took his leave. Flug watched him go, blinking slowly as he tried to process what just happened…

… No. He can think about this later. For now, he had an order to carry out.

After cleaning himself up and changing out of his bloodsoaked clothes, Flug returned to the lab with newfound energy and determination. He threw himself at his experiment with ultimate focus, not allowing Demencia or even Black Hat’s presence distract him, despite how intently the latter was watching him.

Flug completed the substance within the hour, and it did not disappoint. Everything went according to plan. Firing the gas bomb at their intruders did the trick, knocking them out just long enough for Demencia to dispose of them without a single issue. 

When all was said and done, Black Hat approached the doctor from behind as he disarmed the forcefield, causing him to jump in surprise when the demon patted his shoulder. “Well done, doctor.” He said simply before walking off.

All Flug could do was stare as he left, completely befuddled. 

He had always craved Black Hat’s praise, but now that he’d been getting it, it felt beyond impossible to get used to.

The strange behavior, the way he kept lingering about the lab for no discernable reason other than to watch him, how he’d been keeping Flug’s diet in check, it was all just so… bizarre. Flug racked his brain day in and day out trying to solve this mystery, but nothing ever felt like it made sense. It couldn’t be coming from a place of respect, as he knew Black Hat was incapable of respecting him. He doubted it was coming from a place of any sort of concern, as nothing about their routine had actually changed. If anything, Flug was more healthy than usual these days due to Black Hat’s assistance in keeping him properly fed.

Perhaps it was something more akin to keeping a pet. Of course, that must be it. Black Hat likely had him lumped in the same category as Lil Jack these days, just a pet to feed and maintain.

While that dehumanizing assumption made the most sense so far, Flug still couldn’t be sure…

One day, curiosity finally got the better of him. He knew he should know better than to question Black Hat, but he just couldn’t help himself this time.

It was on another day that, as was becoming usual, Black Hat had joined him in the laboratory, overseeing his work from a distance. Flug couldn’t actually be sure how much Black Hat was actually paying attention to the invention he was building, but he worked as diligently as he could under his boss’s silent supervision all the same.

A handray of sorts laid in pieces on the table while the doctor fiddled a screwdriver inside the mechanism. Black Hat had taken to leaning against the wall by the door, not a word spoken by him this whole time.

Flug nervously glanced back at him for a moment, quickly averting his eyes back to the device when he was caught staring. Finally, he forced himself to say it. “… Y-You’ve been… a-acting strangely since you first saw me feed, sir…”

“Strangely?” Black Hat’s cold voice repeated, examining his claws without a care in the world. “What are you implying?”

That ice, that frosty and bitter manner in which his boss spoke, had always rattled Flug’s nerves. It was almost enough to discourage him entirely from completing his train of thought, but he knew that would likely annoy Black Hat even more. He put his screwdriver down, turning to face the demon. “W-w-well, it’s, u-um… er…”

“Out with it, doctor.” Black Hat snapped impatiently. He cast the other man a challenging stare, as though daring him to say something he’ll regret.

At this, Flug hesitated. A lump had started forming in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Black Hat’s glare was definitely making the doctor have second thoughts about saying anything at all. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak through his discomfort. “Y-You’ve been treating me differently.”

Black Hat’s visible eye slowly narrowed, but he decided to amuse his doctor. “Oh really? How so?” He said in a sort of sarcastic, dry tone, taking a step forward.

No backing down now. Straightening his back, Flug tried very hard not to flinch away at his boss’s advances. “Well…” He began, fiddling with his hands, “You’ve been, um… H-How do I put this… nicer …?”

That was a big mistake the moment he said it, Flug’s eyes going wide once he realized his mistake far too late. Rage flashed across Black Hat’s face, the demon’s familiar growl ringing through Flug’s ears as he came closer. Flinching back and shielding his face with an arm, Flug almost fell over the table behind him as he tried to back away. “W-W-Wait, I didn’t  m-mean it like tha–!” He cut himself off with a fearful yelp as Black Hat yanked him forward by the neck of his shirt, his threatening form towering over the doctor.

“How did you mean it , then?” Black Hat snarled, voice dripping with a biting venom.

“Y-You’ve been acting like you think I have more worth now!” Flug squeaked, hiding his face behind his arms with eyes squeezed shut, a clear exasperation lingering among the fear in his words. “Like because I’m half monster, that changes things!”

Expecting to get pummeled in the next few seconds, it was to Flug’s great surprise that Black Hat let him go. Risking a timid peek at his boss, his jaw almost dropped. Why was he laughing all of a sudden?

“Of course it changes things!” Blackhat grinned, as though it were ridiculous for Flug to suggest otherwise. For some reason, that prickled at Flug’s nerves. “Now that I’ve seen what you are– ”

“What I am doesn’t change anything! I’m still the same Flug I’ve always been!” 

In a moment of surprise, Black Hat’s grin faltered. He’d never heard Flug take such a tone with him before, nor had he seen that particular look of frustration, dressed with hints of defiance, within Flug’s eyes.

“Have you been basing my value on species this whole time?” The scientist went on, irritation building, “What, I’m suddenly worth more to you just because I’m less human? Is that why you haven’t been kicking me around as much? Are you seriously that shallow?” With a scoff, Flug looked away, brows furrowed in anger. “If my being a human really disgusted you that much, I don’t get why you haven’t just replaced me with someone more your style.”

There was a tense moment of silence between them, although the tension was likely only on Flug’s side. Eventually, Black Hat spoke again.

“I believe that’s the first time you’ve dared to raise your voice at me, doctor.”

… Wait… 

Shit.

“I’m sorry…!” He squeaked in fear, cringing away from Black Hat in anticipation of being struck. Realization of how badly he screwed up hit him like a semi truck, and he scrambled over his words trying to do damage control in whatever way he could. “I-I don’t know w-what c-came over me! I-I’m v- very sorry, sir…!”

No violence came his way, however. Instead, Black Hat eyed him with what Flug could only describe as intrigue. His head tilted a smidge to the side, not unlike that of a curious animal. When he next spoke, it was with a kind of guileless tone completely foreign to Flug’s ears. “I have always valued you, Flug.” 

A disbelieving snort escaped Flug before he had the chance to stop it, slapping a hand over his mouth the second such a disrespectful noise had come out. How or why Black Hat hadn’t lashed out at him yet, Flug had no idea.

“You think I would have hired some annoying, sniveling little human if you weren’t of significant value to me? I know you’re smarter than that, doctor.” He drew closer, much to Flug’s discomfort. “In spite of what a pitiful sight you made, it was your intelligence that’d far made up for that. Your intelligence, your dedication, your perseverance, I have seen it all. From the day I met you, I knew your talents were exceptional.”

Baffled by such claims, Flug could do nothing more than stare in disbelief as his boss spoke.

“You impressed me that day, Dr. Flug. I can count on one hand the number of humans that’ve accomplished such a feat.” He went on, circling Flug to admire the work he had laid out on the table. “Humans are one of the most irritating and pathetic species I’ve ever come across in all my years. To have ended up relying on one for the sake of my business has been no less than a major frustration to me. Without you, who the hell do you think would be making all of our products?”

“I-I-” Flug started to speak, but was quickly silenced by the raise of Black Hat’s hand. Clearly, he had more to say.

“In a way, you’re not wrong. It does please me knowing that you’re not entirely human. You are something better. But, you’ve always been better than other humans in my eyes.” When he next turned to face Flug, it was with a narrow-eyed stare on his face. “So, don’t you dare suggest that I haven’t valued you until now. If that were true, I’d have left you dead in that alley all those years ago.”

At that moment, Flug had been rendered speechless. This was the first time Black Hat’s ever verbalized any sort of appreciation for Flug’s work, especially in such a direct manner. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, tempted to reach out and poke the eldritch to make sure it was actually him and not some sort of caffeine hallucination.

Instead, he averted his eyes. As comforting as that was to hear, it didn’t change the main problem.

“You don’t treat your valuables very well, then.” Flug’s hesitant voice spoke up.

With a boisterous laugh, Blackhat twirled his cane idly. “So what? That’s of no consequence to me.”

“You seem to forget that I’m breakable, sir. It is a consequence if I decide to leave.” If he really is as valuable as Black Hat says... Looking away, he muttered under his breath, “It’s definitely something I’ve considered.”

That came as no surprise to Black Hat. He’s seen the collection of house and apartment ads the doctor’s compiled and occasionally glanced through when his boss’s temper was especially testy. But surely he’d never actually go through with leaving. Not after all the work he put in to get here. It would be absurd.

Not paying the comment much mind, Black Hat decided he was done with this conversation and headed for the door. “Get that ray done. We start filming in two hours.”

Such dismissive behavior was what Flug was used to letting roll off his back. But, this time, it felt like it didn’t matter at all compared to the other things his boss had said.

It was beyond reassuring to know that Black Hat found him important for what really mattered. There had been many a day where Flug had wondered if all of his efforts were actually counting for anything, in that regard.

Now, he won’t have to wonder. 

Something new to wonder about, however, was why this conversation had left him feeling so flustered …

Their uncharacteristically genuine conversation didn’t mean everything was sunshine and daisies, of course. After all, This is the house of evil. Can’t expect much else. What Flug was used to was being yelled at. Though there was one recent incident in particular that had been… strange.

As usual, Black Hat was eager to advertise anti-hero merchandise to their viewers. The demon rarely ever began recording early without first informing Flug, but today was, unfortunately, one of those days. He already had Cam-bot recording before Flug was even in the room. It’s not like he needed Flug there, anyways, so he just went ahead and started without him. The product seemed simple enough, some kind of fireball launcher of sorts.

Black Hat was well into the presentation by the time Flug had gotten there. The doctor had appeared somewhat rushed, and was carrying with him a toolbox.

His eyes widened with terror when he entered the room to see his boss already wielding the product.

“… and with just the click of a button, your local hero will be enveloped in a Hellish blaze!” Black Hat took aim at a target across the room.

“Sir, no!” Flug shouted, darting towards him, “There’s a chemical imbalance that still needs to be–!”

Too late.

There was a flash, then a blast of intense heat as the weapon backfired. Cam-bot went toppling over sideways, making a series of distressed beeping noises, and Black Hat let out a startled snarl as his arm was blown clean off. That wasn’t too much of a concern, however, as a stream of inky black energy quickly formed a new one.

He wheeled around, eyes blazing with rage as he faced the now-shivering Flug. “You IDIOT!!!” He roared, storming over to the scientist and roughly gripping his arm. “Is your job to have our products ready in time or IS IT NOT!?”

“I-I-I’m sorry….!” Flug yelped, cowering. “I-I thought I h-had more time…! I just needed to make one minor adjustmen–” He cut himself off with a pained outcry as Black Hat’s grip tightened, near threatening to break his arm.

“I don’t want to hear EXCUSES, YOU BLOODY– You…” Black Hat trailed off, a whisper of that recent conversation with the doctor echoing in his head.

You don’t treat your valuables very well.

You seem to forget that I’m breakable.

Staring over the terrified doctor now, the way he immediately expected the worst, something felt… off. Black Hat was the one that decided to start early and without Flug’s knowledge… but that still shouldn’t excuse not having it ready before the deadline, so–!

“Sir…?” Flug’s voice, tiny and horrified as it may have been, managed to shake Black Hat out of his thoughts. Fearful eyes gazed up at him with a hint of confusion on top of the pain. Very slowly, Black Hat loosened his grip, then let go altogether and took a step back.

Flug stepped back as well at the first chance he got, gripping his hurt arm close to himself. He gave a puzzled frown. “S-Sir…. are you…. alright….?”

… How could he be asking that? It seemed so… backwards.

… It doesn’t matter.

“Get this mess cleaned up…” Black Hat finally said, his voice unusually low, “… and fix that infernal Cam-bot…” 

Then, he was gone before Flug could even reply.

Watching the door close behind his boss, Flug winced as he rubbed his arm. Sighing, he picked up the dropped toolbox and turned to Cam-bot. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then…”

A flood of blood trickled down the now-lifeless body and onto the floor, Flug’s shaking arm wiping away what dribbled from his chin. With a chunk of neck completely missing from the corpse on the operation table in front of him, it was leaving quite the mess. The doctor tentatively reached up to pull his paper bag back down and cover his mouth, but Black Hat’s cane pulled his arm away before he could. Flug squirmed slightly beneath his boss’s touch as he lifted his chin , discomfort setting in him, but Black Hat paid that no mind.

A gloved thumb lightly grazing across the edge of Flug’s fangs, Black Hat’s expression was oddly monotone today. “… So, tell me.” He said suddenly. “If I’m so unbearable to live with, why do you stick around?”

“S-Sir….?” Flug responded, caught off guard by the question.

“You’re not being forced to stay here.” The eldritch went on. “You said yourself that you’ve considered leaving. Many other villains would be glad to take you. So why do you stay?”

Flug was quiet for a long moment, considering what he should say. Truly, there was only one right answer. “… B-Because the other villains aren’t you.”

At that, Black Hat paused, a twitch of surprise on his features for a second. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Elaborate.”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Flug started to fiddle with the sleeves of his labcoat. “W-W-Well, um… I-I mean, you’re… successful, c-confident, accomplished…” Oh gosh, why did he have to be listing off things he admires about his boss while they were in this position? Hardly any distance between them, and Black Hat leaned in closer with every word! Swallowing again, he tried not to get too flustered as he continued, “I-It’s just… well, you’re Black Hat. You’re one of a k-kind, the best there is. I don’t– I-I refuse to settle for less than the best.” Sheepishly, he looked to the ground, voice quieting. “You’re everything I’m not.”

Silent for quite some time, Black Hat found he was only able to give Flug a dumbfounded stare. The demon’s never had a tendency for modesty, for Flug to be so upfront about both his admirations and insecurities felt strange as can be. It was a combination that Flug likely never would’ve spoken aloud if left unprompted. Then, a smile began to form on Black Hat’s face. “Well, aren’t you the little ego-booster.” He purred, chuckling. “Although…” Stepping back and rubbing his chin in thought, Black Hat tilted his head and looked Flug up and down. “For one thing, if it’s something like confidence you’re wanting improvements on, you really shouldn’t spend your time hiding underneath that paper bag.”

Flinching back, Flug subconsciously ran his fingers across the edge of the bag. “N-N-No. I-I need it.”

“… Tsk. Fine, then. But still, I am curious…” Taking a step forward again, Black Hat brushed at the paper bag with his fingers. Flug jolted back before he could get a proper grip, almost tumbling over the body table in the process. Black Hat simply reached out with his cane, hooked it around Flug’s neck, and yanked him forward. With the other hand, he reached for the bag again.

“No!” In a panic, the trembling scientist grabbed his arm with both hands in an attempt to stop him, eyes squeezed shut.

Surprisingly, Black Hat did stop.

Flug hesitantly opened one eye to evaluate the situation. Black Hat was staring at where Flug had gripped him, same dumbfounded expression on his face as from the last time Flug touched him.

Slowly letting go, hoping that he wouldn’t try to remove the bag again, Flug frowned. “… U-Um… sir… I-If you don’t mind my asking…. W-Why is it you look so… bewildered … when I do that…?”

“Hmph,” Black Hat pulled his arm back after being let go, absentmindedly rubbing the spot he had been grabbed. He tried to cover up the bewilderment with a sly smile. “Maybe because the only time people ever dare to touch me is when we’re fighting or having sex. Why else?”

…. Flug chose to ignore that second part. His frown deepened, a touch of his own bewilderment setting in. “… So you’ve… never been, like… just… casually or platonically touched…?” 

Black Hat took a moment to think about it, looking off to the side. He couldn’t recall any instances of such a thing, aside from maybe shaking hands with clients, if that were to count? But those were more like business obligations rather than anything casual or platonic. “Hmm… No, never.” He eventually concluded. His eyes narrowed just slightly when they pulled back towards Flug. “Well, unless we count you.”

Normally Flug might’ve winced away in response to the slow return of hostility in Black Hat, but he was just… too flabbergasted. The concept of going through life without that ever happening seemed so farfetched for some reason, but he supposed if you’re a guy like Black Hat, maybe it’s plausible…..?

After a long moment’s thought, he hesitantly reached out a hand, pausing near Black Hat’s right shoulder as he examined his boss’s face for permission.

Black Hat’s eyes further narrowed with skepticism at the gesture, but he made no protest. So, Flug continued. His skeptical gaze followed Flug’s hand all the way until it had made contact with his shoulder.

It was strange, how all the malice slowly drained from his boss’s face upon contact. The look in his eyes was no longer one of hostility, but rather, curiosity. Perhaps a touch of confusion, but mostly a genuine sort of curiosity that was, in a way, almost innocent-looking. It was a rather strange expression on him, Flug finding himself unable to look away until Black Hat’s questioning pupils darted to Flug’s own face, wondering why he had gone so still.

Quickly averting his eyes, Flug went back to what he was doing. Very slowly, he ran his hand down the demon’s arm, as if he were simply smoothing out the fabric of his sleeve. Gentle, yet so impactful. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn he felt the slightest shiver from his boss as he had done so. Another sneaking glance to Black Hat’s face confirmed that he was just as confused as Flug was about the whole thing.

Slowly still, Flug raised his other hand to meet Black Hat’s chest, just letting it rest there for a while. Then, as if snapped out of a trance, Flug realized all at once how weird this must be getting and jolted backwards, the sudden movement even startling Black Hat a tiny bit. 

“I-I… um… s-sorry, sir…”  There Flug was, getting all flustered again. Why the hell did these strange interactions with his boss keep stirring up such confusing butterflies in the pit of his stomach?

Black Hat raised an eyebrow slightly, but other than that, his expression remained vaguely passive. He ran his own fingers along where Flug had touched him, quiet for some time. Then, his familiar smile crept back along his face as he looked back towards the doctor. “Seems only fair that I’d get to look beneath that bag of yours now, doesn’t it?”

Crap. Flug was hoping he’d forgotten about that. His gaze fell to the floor, accepting defeat with a very hesitant nod. “I-I-I s-sup-ppose so, s-sir…” He stammered, anxiety quickly on the rise.

A victorious purr rumbled in Black Hat’s throat, and he closed the space between himself and his scientist. Hands once again meeting the bottom of Flug’s paper bag, he took unusual care in how he lifted both the bag and goggles off of his face. As soon as those harsh white lights from the room’s fluorescent bulbs hit Flug’s eyes, a sharp yelp left his throat, and he threw his face in his hands to hide. 

“Seriously, Flug?” Black Hat deadpanned, unimpressed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry. It’s t-too b-bright.” He stuttered, unable to stop trembling.

There was a moment of silence before Flug heard his boss’s voice again. “Open your eyes, doctor.”

Already feeling dizzy and anxious without the comfort of his bag, the thought of being made to endure such harsh lights on top of that was too overwhelming to handle. But the thought of angering Black Hat frightened him even more. So, he fought back every instinct that screamed at him to protect his eyes, stifled whatever stressful noises tried to escape him, and lowered his hands.

To Flug’s surprise, rather than the headache-inducing brightness he was expecting, he was greeted with a well-dimmed room, black smoke swirling above them to significantly dull the lights. No doubt compliments of Black Hat.

View of his scientist no longer obstructed, the wide-grinning demon took hold of Flug’s chin, lifting his head to get a better look. He could feel the halfling swallow nervously, but was too focused on taking in his appearance to notice or comment. Honestly, Flug looked like any normal human being if you looked past the eyes and teeth. 

But Black Hat didn’t. He was especially focused on those eyes, this being the first time he’s ever actually seen them goggle-free.

Flug’s eyes were without a doubt attention-grabbing. Where a human’s eyes would normally be white, Flug’s were an abyss of pitch-black, glowing white pupils being the only contrast to exist within. 

“Captivating…” Black Hat commented under his breath. While the comment was not specifically addressed for Flug, he certainly reacted to it, feeling an intense heat rise to his cheeks. His boss definitely took notice of that, smirk widening in response.

Embarrassed and feeling like he was going to pass out, Flug quickly grasped for his bag and pulled away from Black Hat, struggling to pull it over his head again through short and shaky breaths.

Evidently, having the bag and goggles was a comfort thing as well as an eye protection thing.

Satisfied, Black Hat gave a firm nod and turned for the door, smoke dissipating with a snap of his fingers. “Clean up your mess and get back to work.” He ordered as he left.

Flug had to take a moment to regain himself, doing everything he could to calm his nerves. With the combination of deep breaths and counting numbers in his head to refocus, the doctor slowly but surely found his composure again.

That was… quite the experience… Almost surreal ….

Placing a hand on the side of his head in confusion, Flug shook it off and went to take care of the body. The entire experience didn’t stop running through his head the whole while.

There were no words Flug had that could describe how their altered relationship had continued to shift and morph since then.

Flug first noticed it with the way Black Hat’s eyes studied him, bore through him right to the bone and stripped his soul bare. There lived no mordacity or annoyance behind his constant gazes, which was unnervingly strange in and of itself. Worse was that Flug couldn’t tell what Black Hat was looking at him with. Was it condescension? It didn’t feel like something that negative... Maybe… curiosity? Interest? But interest in what? No matter what explanation his mind tried to present, Flug knew there was something he had to be missing. Something he wasn’t seeing.

The mystery was only made harder to solve by the way Black Hat would touch him. In the past, the only form of physical contact they’d ever shared was aggressive in nature, as Black Hat had a nasty habit of manhandling anybody nearby in his moments of explosive rage. As such, it was hard not to flinch when the demon would put his hands on him. But, especially after that unusual encounter they’d had, his touches have become shockingly gentle. 

What were once brief pats on the back became lingering touches, claws tracing temperate lines along his meek frame, a hand resting on his shoulder just a bit too long… He’d also just stand far closer than usual whenever they were going over work projects together. Flug thought for a moment that perhaps all this time spent around Black Hat’s eldritch presence was finally driving him insane, but there was no way that he could be imagining these things. Out of all things for his mind to try and play tricks with, why something like this?

Furthermore, as someone who’s always enjoyed his alone time, Flug simply couldn’t wrap his head around why Black Hat kept joining him in the lab for the most benign of times. Even today, all he was doing was reading a newspaper with his morning acid, something he usually did in the comfort of his own office.

Occasional glances in his boss’s direction yielded the same results, those strange stares that made Flug feel so vulnerable being aimed back at him every now and then. He tried to focus on his work, to throw himself into his invention to distract from the outside world as usual, but his rattled nerves simply refused to let him do that today.

The next time he found his boss staring, Flug put down his tools, confronting the issue with a meek question.

“A-Are you ups-set with me?”

A glimmer of curiosity passed through Black Hat’s eyes. He put his newspaper down, that unnerving gaze completely honed in on his scientist. “What makes you think I’m upset with you?”

“W-Well, it’s… uh… I-I don’t kn-know, you’ve just b-been kind of…” Flinching slightly as Black Hat rose from his seat to approach him, Flug greatly struggled to finish that thought, looking all around the lab to avoid any sort of eye contact. “Y-y-you’ve b-been s-st- staring a l-lot lately, a-a-and, um–” He backed up as his boss got closer, just barely catching himself when he knocked into the table behind him, “A-and th-the t- touching … I-I just d-don’t u-und-derstand w-what–”

Flug’s stuttering was cut short when Black Hat took the side of his face into his hand, turning the scientist’s head to make their eyes meet.

“Tell me, doctor,” Black Hat purred, “Do I look upset to you?”

“N-n-no…?” Flug squeaked in response.

“There is your answer.” His head lolled to the side, studying Flug far too closely for comfort. His hand slinked down from Flug's face, the doctor withdrawing a sharp breath as deadly claws traced along his neck before finding its new resting place on his shoulder. “Does it bother you when I touch you?”

“W-Would it m-mat-tter if it d-did…?”

The way Black Hat narrowed his eyes at him, the hints of an annoyed frown starting to tug at his lips, quickly startled Flug into correcting his behavior. He straightened his back, answering the question directly this time. “N-no sir, it’s n-no bother.”

Just like that, Black Hat seemed to relax again. “Good.” He pulled his hand away, returning to the couch to pick up his newspaper. “You look like you’re having trouble focusing, so I suppose I’ll leave you to it for now.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

That… did not answer any of Flug’s questions.

Honestly, it was likely in Flug’s better judgment to stop questioning these changes in behavior to Black Hat’s face. Confusing as their new dynamic may have been, at least it was better than getting thrown around like a ragdoll on a near-daily basis. 

That wasn’t the way Black Hat saw it, however.

The way Black Hat saw it, all of this peculiar behavior had been a simple case of testing the waters. Unfortunately, his next move would be one Flug could’ve never prepared for.

Aaaand here’s where things get a little tumblr-unsafe, so to the AO3 void you go! (Please heed the warning tags over there)

[itwoodbeprefect]

fic asks! 2, 12, 16 (i know i'm being mean. feel free to tell me i'm being mean), 23

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

hmmmm i keep thinking about ghosts. that was true anyway (thai media is great at thoughtful ghost stories) and then peaceful property started eating my brain every wednesday (note: just an expression. this is still about ghosts, not zombies) and now it's even true-er. but i also don't particularly want to kill any of my blorbos so i don't know, i don't know. maybe i need to start seriously thinking about original fiction again, so i'm not really killing anyone because the person has been dead the whole time on some level.

or, alternately. this could be a sign i just need to write some due south fic. built-in ghosts! in hindsight, maybe my newfound love for ghost stories with a kind view of the world was way more predictable than i thought.

-

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

i mean, i think i HAVE to answer h50 s07e08 Hana Komo Pae (Rite of Passage). i can't NOT say h50 s07e08 Hana Komo Pae (Rite of Passage) after writing three different fics about it.

-

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

you are being a little mean, but only a little, because while i do sort of want to say starsky & hutch, i think the only real and true answer has to be steve & danny. even if it's purely because they're incredibly easy to write and come with a lot more easily accessible nuances in their canon relationship because. we get 10 seasons (which is more than 4. math.), and modern episodic media still allows ever so slightly more change and growth than 70s episodic media.

-

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

i actually did almost do something like this last year! somewhere in my drafts there's a half-written version of a sort of. counterpart/rewrite of my very first h50 fic ever, Wanted: parter (in crime), which i was going to post on the 30th of august 2023, exactly five years after i posted that fic, which was also the five year anniversary (minus a few days) of when i started watching the show. the reason it didn't happen is that i didn't remotely make my self-imposed deadline, and now i may need to wait for the ten year anniversary of Wanted.

and for a sillier answer: i'd rewrite Tell me the sky is falling now but i'd keep everything the same and not really rewrite it at all but take out/change one (1) line i didn't like much when i posted it and that now continues to bother me every time i reread it but also doesn't bother me ENOUGH that i've actually sat down to change it after the fact, which i generally don't do with posted works unless there's something actually wrong with them.

(the line is "Hutch takes a single glass down from the cupboard – he prefers it when he’s not trying to be cool and streetwise, but Starsky doesn’t mind drinking straight from the can – and opens the fridge without looking over his shoulder even once." and it's not actively terrible but i think i just needed something there from hutch to break up starsky's bits of dialogue and i ended up with a really clunky random fact that i suppose implies something about hutch's character but i'm not even sure i agree with it and i think there are a million ways this could have been smoother or more streamlined or just replaced by some other little sidenote. but also. it doesn't really matter. and it's not that bad. i just know i felt unsure about it, which makes me dread getting to that part, which makes me like it even less. these poor words never stood a chance.)

[scarletwitching]

If you could rewrite several things about Wanda, what would they be?

I think I have rather basic preferences in terms of which comics are Bad and Should Not Have Happened. Certain things are obviously offensive and published during times when Marvel editors were letting writers do whatever, and that sucks. John Byrne? Sucks. Do not like him. I'm not the first to point out that continuity, for all its joys, negatively impacts female and minority characters in disproportionate ways. Beyond the big, obvious answers though, I don't especially want to erase much. It's all part of the tapestry, and the pick-and-choose nature of the canon means I don't have to care about most of it anyway.

My unique-to-me answer is that Marvel has done some reprints of old Avengers comics where they recolored Wanda's hair from black to red, and that should be stricken from the record. Stop this redhead propaganda! Give her her black hair back!

I realize that's not a rewrite, strictly speaking, but...

Maybe a more satisfying way to look at your question is, if I could start over from the beginning, what would I do? Tom Brevoort said in a recent newsletter that writers frequently pitch a do-over/restart of the Ultimate Universe (see also), so if I were to pitch a fresh reboot of the Marvel Universe, what would my pitch for Wanda be?

There is not much from the original Ultimate Universe that I consider worth keeping. This, maybe, if only for laughs. I don't love the probability powers, mostly because they don't make sense and not in a fun magic way, but I am amused that they accidentally make her a math savant. I wouldn't care about keeping that aspect one way or the other. She can be a math genius. She can not be a math genius. I do not care. There's nothing else worth even mentioning in Ults (and I'm not getting into rewrites for The Movies, even though any actual comics reboot would naturally be influenced by them, because we don't have time to get into All That), so that leaves us with the main universe to pull from.

First rewrite: The Brotherhood of Mutants are not evil. They're not villains.* They've just separated themselves from human society. I am so tired of "the villain has good ideas, but they've got to kill a puppy to prove that you shouldn't question the status quo TOO much." They can be a foil to the X-Men. They can be allies with ideological differences (maybe leading to the formation of Krakoa or some other island nation at a later date). But no more of that same fucking villain plot. It's tired. Do something different.

If you're introducing a new version of Wanda, she should start out as a teenager by default, and personality-wise, I think 70's Englehart is the way to go. Strong personality. Not a wallflower. Kind of bossy, not the biggest fan of humans. She can change over time, but that's a good starting place. Be creative with her powers, however you define them. No omnipotence shit. Let the inventiveness take the spotlight.

That's a good foundation to go off of and potentially launch into stories about the Avengers and whatnot. I'm not so worried about the precise backstory details (I wouldn't get rid of Django, but the specifics are not too much of a concern). I guess my overall rewrite is digging into the mutant separatist thing from a more modern angle, emphasizing creativity over raw power, and giving her the Englehartian personality from the start, along with the easy stuff like more respectful portrayal of her background and not doing the truly awful mental illness/trauma portrayals. There's a million other little details to get into from there, but this answer is already long.

*If I have another pointless rewrite to add to the main universe, it's that they have to stop saying she started out as a villain. No, she did not. Abused children are not supervillains. Stop saying this nonsense.

[greatprotector-if]

Hii, I want to make if game but I'm kinda slow writer. Also I have never written so many words like other authors and it's a bit paralyzing. Do you have any advice how to deal with it?

anon i am so sorry this is 100% just rambling. the TLDR; my advice to you is this: comparison is the thief of joy. i know it's hard not to compare yourself to others, it's a super natural instinct for most of us, but seriously, as long as you're doing the best that you can, it doesn't matter how much or how little everyone else is doing. try changing your scenery! write in a different location! write using different materials! don't even bother with proper grammar and punctuation or whether things sound good or make sense for your rough draft. just write. Don't go back and fix things. and it might suck and you might just end up having to rewrite the entire thing in the end but at least now you know what not to do! and i am wishing you the absolute best in all your if writing endeavours <3

i'm fr just a guy so i'm so sorry if this advice is shit. i'm not a professional. idk if you came to me just because you saw the "slow writer" in the intro post and you saw a kindred spirit, but just in case you are not aware.... i am such a slow writer and i'll be so honest when i started tgp by far the longest thing i'd written was 11k words and it took like... 10 months to finish. usually the stuff i wrote was 500 words in Total and i was also the type of fanfic writer on wattpad who'd post three chapters and then never touch the book ever again

so, not a great foundation for a game that requires this level of commitment, and i knew that!! but i dunno i was so excited about the idea and the characters and i felt like i needed to share it with the world so i just went fuck it and started. when i first got that intro post up i had nothing but a handful of characters, a vague idea and a dream.......

basically what i'm trying to say is. I get it.

and my advice to you is: just do it LOL just write your if game!!!

it will be scary and impostor syndrome is SUCH A BITCH. you will encounter authors who will write like 100k words in the time it takes you to write 5k and THAT IS OKAY. I FEEL THIS EVERY DAY. BUT YOUR WORTH IS NOT BASED ON HOW MANY WORDS YOU CAN WRITE IN AN HOUR, SO TRY YOUR BEST NOT TO BE TOO HARSH ON YOURSELF. COMPARISON IS THE THIEF OF JOY. if your best one day is 15 words and they aren't even good words? that's fine. at least you're getting something down. you are doing the best you can in that moment, and that's what's most important!!!

ALSO WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO WRITE. you cannot appeal to everyone. there will be people who simply will not enjoy your game and you know.. we ball anyway because there will also be people who LOVE YOUR GAME JUST AS MUCH AS YOU DO, IF NOT MORE. i find that a lot of the time i'm stuck because i'm so worried about catering to my audience, and while it's okay to be conscious of these things, don't let it paralyze you. do not make your story about a bunch of bullshit you don't care about just because it's popular or something or you will just Never progress because you don't care about writing it. those days i shit out 1k (WHICH IS A LOT FOR ME IN ONE DAY) are because i'm like JUMPING OFF THE WALLS EXCITED ABOUT WHAT I'M WRITING ABOUT. WHO CARES IF WHAT YOU WANT TO WRITE ABOUT IS CRINGE (cringe culture is dead anyway) OR SUPER NICHE OR WON'T GET YOU A MILLION FOLLOWERS IMMEDIATELY. i mean don't get me wrong validation feels so good i'm a bit of an attention whore myself but also you deserve to create things that make you feel good, and this is what sustains a long-term project. You know? You feel me? You pickin up what i'm putting down? plus there will always be other people who vibe with your story, no matter how much you think you're the only one it appeals to.

but just in case you aren't just here for incoherent moral support, i would highly recommend straying away from plain old google docs or whatever it is that you usually use to write and trying new things! pen and paper??? pen and Cardboard box (this one works really well for me for my art block for some reason LMAO)??? write while sitting on the stairs instead of at your desk??? stimuwrite 2.0 (i cannot recommend this enough the bubble wrap sounds are sooo good)???

also. remember that rough drafts are just that: Rough Drafts. just write!!! maybe it'll turn out great, but maybe it'll be complete shit. maybe it'll make you want to throw up just reading it back. DON'T DELETE IT AND WORRY ABOUT HOW TO MAKE IT SOUND BETTER. I DONT CARE IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY USED THE WORD "JUST" 3 TIMES IN 1 SENTENCE. AS LONG AS YOU GOT THE MESSAGE ACROSS ENOUGH FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND IT YOU'RE GOOD TO GO.

ok sorry i am mildly sleep deprived at the time of writing this i'm so sorry if i literally just didn't answer any kf your questions at any point in here. i have no idea what i'm doing i just roll with the punches!!!!!!

[fictional-character-whore]

Hi everyone this is @fictional-character-whore with a brand new masterlist! I’m starting to get back into the fanfiction writing grind and i decided to create an official masterlist that i will update whenever i post fanfics or writings.

I also have a wattpad account with a couple of fics already uploaded from a couple of years ago that i keep promising to update and rewrite but never do lol and it’s under the username of “@Sodonewithreality” - someone else already had this username on tumblr when i created this account :(

Anyway I’ll let you all know if I’m open for requests or not in my bio so keep a look out ig and if you do request something but you’re unsure if i write for certain characters or topics, dm me anyway and i’ll chat with you about it!

btw I’m not very consistent with my writing and updating but that doesn’t matter, just enjoy what i give anyway lol.

Also if you dislike my writing style or the topics that i write about don’t bother writing hate comments or dming me cuz you will be blocked, i don’t need no hate and negativity so just scroll past, skip my works and don’t read them. We all have different interests and opinions and i respect that in a healthy and non-degrading way so you should too. But regarding sensitive topics if you have any positive feedback on how i can use trigger warnings better and write it in a more accurate, relatable, or sensitive way then feel free to comment or dm me about it and i will take action immediately - NO HATE ON THIS BLOG!

I hope i wrote all that right and don’t cause any dramas with you guys - i just want to share my works and have a good time with you guys that’s all.

ANYWAY - i hope you enjoy my fanfictions!

PEAKY BLINDERS

       Jack Nelson:

Misconception - angst, enemies to lovers, gangster shit, heavy tw

Y/n Shelby has decided that she needs a break from the gangster life and travels to America with her cousin Michael Gray for a change of scene. At least that’s what she tells anyone who asks. The real reason was that her older brother Tommy needs someone to run the business in America behind the scenes while watching their seemingly untrustworthy cousin behind his back. While she spies on Michael and his growing ambition, his new relationship with Gina Nelson provides Y/n with the key to the heart of Boston’s famous gangster, Jack Nelson who proves to be just as deceptive and dangerous as Tommy. Will she be able to handle Jack Nelson and his cruel games or will her family reunion knock some much needed sense back into her? Because if Y/n wants to help her family rise to the top and prevent the evident war looming over their heads, sense isn’t the only thing she’ll need. 

STATUS: under construction 

SPIDERMAN (SPIDERVERSE MOVIES)        Miguel O’Hara:

I’m Not Yours - angst, forbidden love, heavy tw 

Every universe has their own version of Spiderman, including their matching lover, but your universe seems hell bent on making sure your lovers want nothing to do with you. And in a universe where extreme violence and public manipulation are its most prominent factors you can understand why love wouldn’t work out for you as Spiderwoman. But when a variant of your lover shows up in a matching spider suit just as damaged as you are, you can’t help but desperately chase at a chance for the love you crave so badly, no matter the consequences.  

STATUS: under construction

THE LAST OF US         Jesse:

This is How We End - angst, friends to enemies to lovers, heavy tw (game accurate violence/themes)

Y/n Miller has the fattest crush on Jesse, and everyone besides him and his girlfriend Dina know it. Her best friends encourage her to chase after her long-time crush but besides the fact that he has a girlfriend, Y/n and Jesse are ex-friends, having had a major falling out not long ago. But with the help of Jesse and Dina’s inconsistent relationship, a revengeful group of ex-fireflies, and about a million infected, just about anything can happen. 

STATUS: under construction

THE MAZE RUNNER

      Newt:

The Maze Runner (OC Reader) – angst, fluff, wrote this when I was 14 so it’s super cringe.

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 

All the boys in the Maze thought that Alby, the leader of the Gladers, was the first ever to come up from the box into the glade. But what if they were wrong? What if there was another Glader who had arrived before him, someone who had been there since day one, someone who suffered with her friends and struggled to find a way out of the dreadful maze that has trapped them for three years? But none of them knew for sure and the only clues they had to this person’s existence was bright coloured paint that splattered the walls of the maze and bark of the forest trees. Perhaps there were certain few Gladers that still made contact with her during their days in the Maze, and perhaps one of them visited her more than the others. But when a Greenie enters the Glade and everything starts to change, will this mystery Glader reveal herself to help escape the Maze for good, or will she continue to hide from them all and risk both her freedom, friendships and possible a relationship?

STATUS: discontinued

RIM OF THE WORLD       Gabriel:

Gabriel? Like the Angel? (OC Reader) – fluff, angst, cursing, also wrote this when I was like 13 so it’s even worse than the maze runner one lmao, MEGA CRINGE.

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 6 

Lydia Lupis had lived a terrible 14 years of life. She went to a school full of drug dealing thieves and gangs, lived in a shitty neighbourhood, had shitty parents that didn’t even give a shit about her to come home and a brother that treated her like absolute trash. The only half decent thing in her life was a stupid camp: Camp Rim of the World. Her brother Conrad had a job there but instead of actually doing it, he just snogged any girl he could find, leaving Lydia to do his job for him. Lydia was never that much of a social person and usually spent most of her time at the camp either working or in her own cabin reading. Lydia expected these school holidays to be the same as every other, but what she didn’t know was that these holidays were going to change her life. Aliens were taking over planet earth and after following three kids into the woods and meeting a strange boy, the fate of the world somehow rest in their hands. With her new found friends will they be able to save the world before humanity becomes extinct and will a certain strange boy steal Lydia’s heart or smash it into a million pieces?

STATUS: discontinued

[ronoken]

So, who wants a publishing story?

No one?

…Tough.

To preface, this was prompted by a post I saw about always making sure you read a contract before signing it. I wholeheartedly agree.

So, I write books. A roundabout result of writing books is I occasionally get to speak at conventions. When I do speak at conventions (which hasn’t been for a year. Thanks, covid), a standard question I get asked is about the benefits of self-publishing versus getting a contract. And yes, I fully realize that everyone’s experience in this is different, and I get that. Here’s mine.

So, several years ago, I wrote a book. I put a solid year into it and did numerous rewrites, edits, etc. with three wonderful editors and boom. Book. Done. And then, like many who are impatient or who don’t want to run the risk of rejection, I self-published my first novel.

And to my great shock, I actually sold some copies.

Quick aside. I’m not famous. At. Fucking. All. Some is not millions. Some is several thousand at best. And that’s over YEARS. I am not widely known and I do not claim to be. At all.

So yeah, like, I didn’t sell a million or anything, but I was moving over 100 copies a month when I was putting in the marketing work. Not too shabby. I was hustling on Twitter, FB marketing, Google ad marketing, working the review sites, doing interviews, everything I could. And it actually worked. I can honestly say the number of copies I moved a month directly correlated with how hard I pushed. And when I pushed, I pushed damn hard. I even got to a point where a reviewer who became an editor for DC would routinely provide public reviews for my books, and I was doing a superhero series. Not gonna lie- it was fucking rad.

Anyway, after a couple years of doing this, putting out a second novel which sold okay, a bunch of novellas, and so on, I received an offer out of the blue to have my work officially picked up. For realsies.

Admittedly, I was over the moon about this. I was being contacted by an unsolicited source! AND THEY HAD MONEY!

Now, my work wasn’t Shakespeare. I knew that. They did, too. They offered me a nice little starting sum. Not a lot, but holy shit it was FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS UP FRONT. One of my editors reads my Tumblr and I don’t think I’ve ever told them how much it was. It was 5k. To start. Not a lot, publishing-wise, but that’s because the work was already done. See, most publishers will give you more, but the catch is it’s considered a down payment for more books in a series. They pay you to write future novels, and then they expect you to pay it back. I already had a shit ton of content out, so I essentially skipped that step. Which tells me that publishers really don’t expect to have to actually pay you much, but that’s another post.

To my editor- sorry I never said the exact amount. It felt weird, but it’s been years, so it’s not as weird? I dunno. That logic train made sense as I was writing this.

So, 5k upfront, and then 50% of all sales thereafter, and they would handle EVERYTHING. Marketing, scheduling tours, covers, putting me in stores, the lot. Considering how much time, money, and effort these things took, this was not a terrible deal, but there was a catch.

My story would officially no longer be mine.

Oh, my name would be on it, and I’d write it, but from there on out, the publishing house would have 100% control over how it was marketed, where it went, and so on. If they wanted to option it, I would have zero say and zero rights, meaning they could take it and do fuck-all, and I would be left with nothing. Per the contract, they could even go so far as to issue me a cease and desist on my own work and hire a new person to take over. I was signing away everything in my universe if I said yes.

So, despite the allure of having things offered to me like a legit marketing team, book tours, and money (such as it was), I said no thank you.

Now, it didn’t hurt that I’d already made 5k in sales by that point. I knew my worth and how to push to keep it that way, if I so chose. Also, it helped that I was in an okay place when that offer came in. I could look at it and say, “well, that sure would be nice, but I don’t need it.” A lot of talented writers aren’t in that space, and the offer of several months rent or money for food as well as REALLY-REAL PUBLISHING can be hella tempting. And I get it, for some folks, the deals work out alright. And for some they don’t. And I sure as Hell am not going to judge. Seriously, I still have vivid nightmares about working 60+ hours a week and not being able to afford baby formula. Hell, if they had offered that to me just one year earlier, I would have been forced to take it. At that stage of life, 5k would have been life changing. I was just starting to hit the OK section of life, and only barely. Money when you need it is fucking awesome, and sometimes, you take what you can get.

But if you are a writer? And you’re in a place where it’s not life and death? Read the damn contract. Every single time. Make good and sure you know what you’re getting into and ask yourself, is it worth it to you? If it is, awesome. Again, not gonna judge, and every situation is different.

In my specific case though, it was choosing a nice bit of cash over something I had slaved for years over. I couldn’t do it. I still can’t. It’s the one property I’ll never let go of because when I wrote it, I didn’t even know if I could write a book. It proved to me that yes, I really could, and that was worth more than I can put into words.

TLDR: Read your contracts. Make choices good for you. Some things are worth more than money.

[descendantofthesparrow]

the D3 outfits and designs look like they belong on 30 year olds, not 17-20 year olds

this was said by @darkprinceofdarkness​ on the descendants discord but i wanted to bring it up here, rn I'm redesigning almost ALL the descendants d3 outfits, including making some brand new ones for new characters for my rewrite, and in looking at the D3 outfits, i remembered what darkpinceofdarkness had said last month (aka ash so imma just call em ash now so i dont have keep typing their tumblr name)  they had said that the designs seemed to fit better on the actors, and not the characters, as in that the designs seemed they were made for 25-30 year olds (the age that most of the actors were at at the time) instead of 17-20 year olds that the characters were aged at.

 i mean look at Mals outfit for the talk with beast, belle, and FG, it doesn't seem right for her,

 its too simple, to plain, there's nothing going on, it looks like she's a wine mom, she looks like she's dressing up as an old ass boring adult when she's just gotten out of her teens 3/10 burn it

and again when hades comes to wake up Audrey 

boring colors, boring texture, boring hair, boring shoes, again, nothing interesting going on, i feel like im looking at a (again) 30 year old wine mom instead of a young adult that just graduated from HIGH SCHOOL 3/10 would gag

now there's her engagement/getting the vks dress

while its one of her best outfits of D3 it still feels....old to me, like, i feel like yes this is still young adult, but not 19 years old young adult, more 23-26 young adult. i think it might be the neckline and form of the dress, the coloring and the textures are nice and i think they do fit well with Mal, but overall, it still feels like something someone over 22 would wear, not a 19 year old. i understand Mal is stepping into the role of a lady/queen, but shes 19, not 30, give her fun clothes! give her ripped denim, give her spray painted leather, give her pins, let her chop her hair short, leggings under shorts! loose tops, t-shirts, spiked chokers, jeans, sneakers, hoodies, just ANYTHING other than loose-form fitting 40 year old woman who doesn't know how to style herself and listens a YouTube video about how to color match your clothes-clothes!!! anyway 6/10 its okay but would def NOT wear

before we continue i would like to say Kara Saun is a great designer...but she wasn't the greatest fit to design for a series about teenagers. anyway onto good to be bad!

now good to be bad, is probably my favorite Mal design out of all of D3, it looks like Mal took a paint brush and her spray paint and just went ham on it, which is perfect, because that suits her (original) character! its all over the place, yet it seems planned, its a mess of colors yet it seems as if they were meticulously  picked! Mals original character was someone while they seemed they had no plan, they had millions of them floating through their head, or they seemed to have a plan but they were just mentally going “fuck it what happens happens” and that unfortunately seemed to be drained from her as the movies went on and someone fucked up by trying to make her a perfect character, which made her completely horrible, in the first movie, her not thinking things all the way through (Ben and the love spell and how that would end) was more endearing than completely annoying and frustrating, D1 Mal, when she didn't think things through, ended up floundering over herself but trying to come up with a quick solution (when the quilt trip FG with Jane plan failed, Mal groaned for a moment then immediately went to her spell book for another plan) yet D2 and D3 Mal, if her plan didn't go her way she got upset, and blamed her fault on other people, even if why her plan failed was completely her fault (the barrier closing thing; she tried to push the blame onto just wanting to protect her cushy life, where if she was written correctly, she would have taken blame and acknowledged that she had doomed the rest of the isle kids and actually apologized for lying to Uma and her friends, instead of saying “she had no choice” (yes you did bish you just didn't want to do any actual work) anyway enough of analyzing Mals horribly written character back to the outfits, so ill sum up Mal’s gttb look, its funky, its fun, its colorful, her jacket is not tight fitting and has a fun tail, popped open collar, its just overall a cute outfit. 8/10 wouldn't wear but it looks like something a punk alt young adult would wear.

so her outfit for Janes party....okay yea i like this one

its splotchy, its denim, its loose yet form fitting, hell i would wear it (minus the shoes)  it feels like something a 15-19 year old feminine presenting person would wear to a party! which guess what! she is! shes going to a party! the only thing i would change is to possibly give her shorts or calf ending cargo pants, and change her open toed heels to wedged sneakers. other wise 8.5/10 would wear.

her motorcross gear.

i...dont like it, its super tight fitting, her butt in every single shot that usually just has Mal in it with her facing towards the camera is reaaaally obvious and its just...iahsiodhasid bad, is bad. her boots are clunky as fuck and hardly practical at all and for what she was planning to do with them makes no sense and girl get the fuck over your height complex.(clunky boots are cute but...girl...come on...) and it seems like its suited for a person in their mid twentys instead of a 19 year old. its hard for me to say exactly why i dont like it (also i will say, if you like tight fitting clothes, fucking go for it, you rock that shit, it just...doesn't look good on Mal and its a fukin kids series, and  the camera loved Mals butt and i was always like “yo camera man, pan up a bit why dont cha”)but i feel like if Mals pants weren't all a shiny tight fabric, i might like them a bit more but its all one thing and all one shade with different tones. like, comon, pockets guys, they are a thing, and put them on her butt so it derives from it when its in the shots.

i hate hate hate the hades color shift, because at least with the green/purple it had two shades and broke up the outfit but now...

its just blue and purple...there's like...nothing breaking up the tones or pieces of the outfit and now its all just tones of blue and purple that you cant tell apart and you have no clue where it begins or it ends and its ugly. 5/10 its better than her “fancy” talk shit but still burn it and keep it away from me. 

and now the dreaded outfit...her engagement party dress.

*shivers* its just...so bad, everything is just so tight and stiff that it just doesn't...feel like a real dress, it looks like it belongs on a doll, i don't even think a 30 year old wine mom would wear this its just so bad. Even the long version of the open skirt (which is impossible to find on google) doesn't flow like it should, its stiff and keeps its form the entire time, and when you want a long flowing engagement party dress made for a princess? that's not a good thing, whatever fabric they used was not a good one and they should never use it again...the texture on the dress is awful too. i think the only thing i like about this abomination is her tiara...that's it, that's all i like, and only because its so much better then that foam garbage that was her dragon dress crown. 0/10 fucking erase it from existence.

i was going to do Evies outfits but i feel like i took too much space up on Mal...i have alot to say on this abomination of an Evie “outfit”

what is this WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! EVIE YOU ARE 19 NOT A FUCKING 40 YEAR OLD REALTOR?!

so i might do a whole post just for Evies “outfits” 

[gwyns]

I noticed that when Elriels spout their embarrassing theories they always come up blank in terms of who the next book will be about and what it’s plot will be? We all know Azriel and Lucien are getting the last two books. But if El ended up with Az, who’d be Lucien’s li? Vassa? This is where they always end up drawing a blank. ALWAYS. Vassa is most likely going to be re-enslaved and back at the lake and so Lucien tries to figure out a way to break her curse and kill koschbosh whatever his name is. Come on! The two of them would be separated for the majority of the book?? Hello?? I also don’t see how an Elriel book could connect a vassalucien book. If that makes any sense? There’s nothing that’d connect vassalucien to the og characters/plot.

Meanwhile. Gwynriel n Elucien just makes SO. MUCH. SENSE? Like you don’t even have to ship them to not see it? Not just relashionship wise but plot wise ESPECIALLY? Gwynriel will most likely deal with Illyrians and the fallout of the Valkyries completing the rite while also trying to deal with Beron, prevent him from striking a deal with Koshbosh or whatever. Both Elain and Lucien are tied to Koshbosh, so in the final book, Elucien deals with Koshbosh. Elain with her seer powers might find a way to kill Koshbosh seeing as how she’s already had visions of him, and Lucien with his c3po eyeball and spell cleaving abilities might find a way to break Vassa’s curse and free her. Not to mention it’s been foreshadowed so many times in acowar that Elain and Vassa will become friends? See how it all just clicks into place perfectly?

Is this why Elriels desperately try to come up with all these absurd dusk court theories, because Elriel as a couple have absolutely nothing to contribute to the plot? Is this why ever since ElainVassa started rising they started calling her and the twins “iconic” and started comparing + putting the “iconic trio” in the same sentence as the Valkyrie trio when we’ve seen literally ZERO interactions between them? Haha omg that’s kinda sad ngl. But more than that-

I’m embarrassed for them 😫

you've put all of my thoughts into one ask so nicely, anon! this is what i've been saying. elain has absolutely no connection to what is likely going to be the plot of az's book. why would she care about illyria? she has nothing to do with it meanwhile gwyn does. how would vassa break her own curse? it was literally said in acosf that she has to return to koschei soon, even having koschei say, "tell my vassa, i'm waiting for her" or whatever.

e/riel currently cannot connect to a v/ucien plot i'm sorry. now, maybe sarah will change things in acotar 5 but... it's unlikely? she'd literally have to rewrite everything she set up in acosf and that sounds like a whole ass pain 😭

i don't like to shit on anyone's ships bc hello..... i'm literally out here shipping things that will never happen but if you take off your shipper's goggles and look at where the plot of the spinoffs is headed, gwynriel and elucien just make the most sense. if not, why did sarah build gwyn up so much? she's not going to use a sa survivor as a plot device and i'm still disgusted that any of you suggested that. why make her azriel's equal? why include the infamous "you're the new ribbon, az" line? bc idc what anyone says, that doesn't hint at a platonic relationship. why did she remind us again that elain doesn't belong in the night court? and that lucien and vassa are just friends? why not have elain reject the bond if she and az are soooo in wuv uwu? why have lucien still looking at her with longing if she wants to set up a different relationship for him?

i've said it a million times but without elain, lucien has absolutely no potential romances. and with how much stuff there is left unresolved with him, it's almost guaranteed he's getting a pov so if not elain.... who? it's literally a process of elimination and you're only left with elain.

don't even get me started on the elain ruling the dusk court theories 🙄 it's literally as if they want to stunt any growth elain could have just to tie her to a man and yet we're the misogynistic ones. ok!

if anyone's going to revive and rule the dusk court it's going to be nesta. not miss "what do you need?" "sunshine" elain archeron.

god the whole "elain, nuala and cerridwen are an iconic trio" is so cringey. they're acquaintances at best. you cannot begin to compare them to the valkyries or feyre, mor and amren who are literally each other's chosen sisters meanwhile the twins were assigned to look after elain lmfao

anyway elain and vassa and briar pls sjm are superior! they just can't handle how badass they'll be when they finally meet.

[bisexualoftheblade-old]

how many wips do you have? like what are they all, and not the number of wips in a fandom? what are all the names?

okay. fuck you. fuck you so much. fuck you.

i’m putting this under a read more cut no one else deserves to see this shit. a lot of these are requests, and for those i will just write out the request itself

Shadowhunters:

domestic polycule fluff with tem, jessa, and will because im not a coward

Supernatural

- hehe hoho i request destiel hehehe

- request 61/? cai cai cai cai i need you to rewrite the destiel scene but yk. GOOD. not like i'm in the know about the spn fandom or anything, it's been years for me. but DO IT

Bright Sessions

- caleb/adam grisha AU

- mark bryant vs. united states aka sue the AM

- caleb/adam college fluff

Umbrella Acaademy

- request 31/? i want a ben and klaus drabble please spare me some brotherly bickering

- AND SO BEGINS NIGHT 4 with request 13/? oooh oooh can i get a raymond and allison playlist??? i think their vibes together would SLAP

- hi there night 2 is technically morning 3 but who's counting not me anyway request 5/? can i get a ben moodboard? gotta rep my tua bb

Percy Jackson

- request 9/? can i get a percabeth moodboard or quote edit?? like god they're the og couple goals take me back to high school cai

- For the 100 follower things :D Jercy getting caught in the rain

- request 29/? a drabble about literally anything to do with pjo. i’ll be happy with anyone and anything i’m love these children

- *somersaults in like I’m a real fancy acrobat* hello ello ello may I request some camp half blood chaos possible involving *does a flip* ✨side characters✨ <3

Penumbra Podcast 

- request 52/? drabble about the penumbra podcast. this is for ren bc ren likes it and i don't actually know anything about it. juno? i think? that's the one ren likes. write it for ren

- Tpp ghost hunting / buzzfeed unsolved au

- sad juno smut

- final resting place fic go brrrr

Marvel

- request 6/? i'm going to my roots y'all can i get a spider-man playlist? if not a playlist then i'd honestly be happy with literally anything involving spider-man

- request 15/? i'm going crazy this is recorded evidence of me actually losing it ANYWAY can i get a quote edit for something from iron man? literally anything that man says is gold so cai's choice :D he deserved better in endgame i'm still bitter

- request 42/? do another spidey thing that differs from the other spidey thing

- request 73/? you have Opinions. rant about infinity way and/or endgame. go.

- request 74/? quote edit for deadpool!!

- spideytorch relationship character study

- peter parker as a tired grad student monitoring the young avengers (send help)

Six of Crows

- okay listen i wasn't going to request anything bc i worry about you but also? if you want to/have the time hit me with a playlist for our girl nina zenik

- request 43/? fuckin give me the ending anya should have had. she is alive and with her new son and having a great time

- request 45/? inej moodboard?

- request 47/? will you make literally any meme of your choosing for six of crows?

- request 48/? write a drabble for kaz, my favorite bastard

- okay so i don't actually like nina or mattias that much but i still wanna hear about your thoughts (and also see if you'll change my mind)

- kaz brekker turning 18 fic. birthday party, everyone singing, whole shebang. i need it stat

- religious trauma fic aka i started shipping kaz/alina/inej and i can’t stop

- kaz trauma soup (he has D.I.D. and you can’t prove me wrong)

- my two redacted fics for @grishaversebigbang​

- wesper fake dating

- six of crows bright sessions crossover: everyone gets therapy

TMA

- uhh... s1 gang having a nice time? melanie getting to have some Pride™️? some "fun" horror thing?

- request 7/? spare steph and jason bonding? please sir? spare some for a humble child such as myself?

- okay so this was meant for night 3 but i had midterm shit SO this is honorary night 3 let's DO THIS request 8/? i want a moodboard of extremely out of context magnus archives shit like i mean confuse the FUCK out of me i don't go here i know Nothing about it

- request 11/? OKAY so i need tim stoker meeting tim drake now i need my timmy to meet your tim plus i want to see character differences no i'm not trying to create a tim stoker in my head so i can read a's fic while NOT thinking of tim drake whaaaaaat you're crazy

- request 18(i think)/? i need a quote edit of every time within the first like. 15 eps of tam where jon is like “sounds fake but go off” thank u bb

- request 40/? i challenge you to write a tma drabble based only on the episodes i've heard. i'm currently halfway through episode 23

- Jon being lovingly bullied into taking a break. I'm aware this has been written a million times but it is one of my favorite things.

- spiral!sasha AU

- extinction martin go brrrrr

- high school era timsasha. they've both been friends for years, and everyone always asks when they will be a couple. they decide to fake date, to prove everyone wrong and show what a bad couple they would be. turns out that's a bit trickier than they thought

- after sasha comes back, tim is broken. he can't let go, scared that if he looks away for even a minute he'll lose her again. sasha suggests shibari as a way for him to give up control

- sasha pov mag 19 au, sacrificing herself to save the others, knows that if she gives herself up to the not!them it will let the others live

- this is the "tim finds a polaroid of sasha" trope

- early archives days,, long nights in research,,, clothes sharing,, somft. late nights and falling asleep at their desks warm and safe in the other's presence

- two parts: timsasha as kids, each picking a constellation that is "theirs". just soft kid antics. tim at sasha's grave glancing up to see their constellations

- continuing your job’s a joke (you’re broke)

DC Comics

- TIMSTEPH HADESTOWN AU,,,

- my redacted fic for @batfam-big-bang​

- request for you to get a decent amount of sleep? serious answer, dickkori, SAL's Venus

- request 4/? timsteph morning after 👀 mayhaps?

- a concept: nonbinary stephanie brown

- teehee hi mom, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but can i request damian angst for your accomplishments 100 followers?

- hi you can ignore my first request if you want, or you can ignore this one. but bls possibly write some bikini ra’s? -the bikini bitch

- request 27/? jay is asking through me for a jondami playlist but tbh i also want it so win win yk?

- "I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does" with bruce and jason? im just craving bruce being a good day to jason for once

- “I am putting you in time out because you need to understand the consequences of your actions.” with steph and jason as dumbass disaster bi best friends pretty please?

- request 32/? timsteph patrol date!!!

- request 33/? timsteph *gala* date? mayhaps??

- request 37/? tim drake drabble but make it Edgy cai

- request 39/? drabble of a prank war between tim and damian

- joyfire cuddly fluff please? or like just any outlaw fluff if joyfire isnt your thing (feel free to add every member of the outlaws, dont feel like u gotta stick with jason, kori, roy i love them all)

- barbara and robin! jason fluff? bonding over books or something?

- request 62/? i need a drabble about the chaotic trio jason, tim, and steph i'm love them ty

- request 63/? batfam x mcu crossover. batfam meets ironfam. give me ALL the cliches. ALL OF THEM

- request 64/? young justice x young avengers - jay cuz idk SHIT about the young avengers

- request 66/? jondami moodboard pls and ty

- request 67/? timsteph moodboard!!!!!!

- request 69/? HEHEHE kinky 😏 i would v much like a timsteph drabble of the almost first time. does that make sense? like i don't want you to go all the way NSFW cuz i know that's against the rules and i'm a rule follower. but like they *almost* go all the way. this could be fade to black or some shit i don't care just make it a lil steamy and have Fun

- i request damian angst! all of it

- hmm... maybe i request? jondami?

- mayhaps,,,,some batfam,,,,,committing crimes? ily be gay do crime <3 - lu

- How about a ficlet with Steph and Cass?

Found Family Bingo Prompts

- no powers au

- tunnel

- first day

- join the club

- hurt/comfort

- experiment

- playing favorites

- hold on

- possession

- 10 o’clock

- singing

- road

- snitch

- curfew

- timer

- fantasy au

- zombie au

- dreams

- campfire

- are you okay

- movie night

- games

- scared

Miscellaneous

- a request: Write A Drabble, Coward

- is it too late to request a moodboard for me?

- request 20/? i’m going off book because i’m in a Chaotic Mood™️ can you just absolutely vibe check me like go off cai demolish me

- request 21/? i formally request that you pick a favorite cai. i don’t care what that favorite pertains to, just pick a favorite something

- request 23/? roast me

- request 24/? can i have a buzzfeed unsolved spoopy playlist but spoiler alert it’s not spoopy bc shane doesn’t believe does this make sense it has been a Day™️

- request 25/50 i want a jake and amy fic make it Soft cai i’m love them b99 is so good

- request 28/? i know nothing about the lord of the rings so make something that will confuse the shit out of me

- request 34/? malvie and jaylos moodboards 😈

- request 35/? a moodboard for the bbb mods!! perceive all of us!!!

- request 36/? moodboard for the tua mods too???? mayhaps??

- request 41/? doctor WHO? idk but i want a drabble of him and the one character i know from doctor who which is rose

- request 46/? make an alignment meme with our group, have fun!!!

- request 49/? i want you to kin assign me a character from every fandom you can/want to. go feral

- request 50!!!!/? this is a special request. the most special request. can you make a bastards tbh playlist? i want our vibes encapsulated. i want us in music form. i want to hear those songs and be like "that's me and cai" and smile.

- requests 51/? i know jack shit about good omens. explain it to me in the most confusing way possible. make me know less by the end than i know now

- request 53/? can you write a mel aesthetic? i'm Curious

- request 54/? give me a list of book recs cai i want some good book recs pls

- request 56/? edit a picture of US together too

- request 58/? oooh can i have a disney edit? like. hm. i just really love disney and i want anything to do with disney. like a quote or an aesthetic or an aesthetic edit i just want disney.

- request 59/? i would v much like a recipe for carbonara. i've never had it but it sounds fucking delicious

- request 60/? ooh hey can i get a makeup tutorial? i know you like makeup, i'm shit at doing makeup. teach me

- request 65/? i need the most emo playlist you can make that vibes with dear evan hansen thank you

- request 68/? i want a superwholock moodboard. this can be serious, with the actual fandoms in mind, or literally what the era felt like. the insanity. the horror.

- request 70/? ooh ooh ooh do you have a good bread recipe?? i wanna get that bread

- request 71/? i want a playlist with the vibes of summoning a demon. please don't ask questions. i don't have answers. and if i do, no i don't.

- For the requests, how about writing something based on a friend?

- request 75/? MMMM i want literally anything to do with natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812

- request 76/? i want some healthy recipes. help a girl out

- a feral bbb quote or two?

- you perceive my plant but now I dare thee to perceive mine own visage

- okay this is a two for one request. 1. you did the bee movie script so now we need a shrek two script edit 2. sleep please

- Pansexual mb for my lil queer soul?

- my (probably) final request is just for you to ramble about something, i don't really care what

- HI ILY CONGRATS AS WELL CAUSE IM LATE BUT CONGRATS. could i request a pirates of the caribbean (or just pirates) or whatever you what to do, free range.

- mood board for the beluga whales who got brought to the animal sanctuary in Iceland please?

- 100 follower request: Moodboard for my stuffed cow Oaky?

[mimzy-writing-online]

Hi! I'm currently writhing a book about people with superpowers and there's one character that is blind. Since I'm not visually impaired, I'm reading a lot about how to avoid cliche and write a good, realistic blind character. I read your text about blind people in books and it helped me a lot, but Im still thinking of what superpower I should give my blind character. I was thinking of super hearing, but now Im thinking is not a good idea anymore. Can you give me some advice? Thanks in advance!

Anonymous’ next ask said, [Hi, I just sent a question for you a couple of minutes ago (I'm the one writing a story about people with superpowers and stuff). I read some more of what you posted and I'm almost certain I'll change my blind characters superpower, but I'd still like your opinion on it. I'm sorry if my english is kinda bad (it's not my first language) and also if I said something offensive somehow. I'm very eager to learn and make a very cool and realist character! Thanks btw, your posts are helping me a lot!]

First, your English is lovely and the fact that it’s your second language makes you awesome in my book. Nobody needs to worry about how good their English is on this blog. If I don’t fully understand something I will ask for clarification, but that’s a situation I find myself in with native English speakers and asking them to clarify.

Also, nothing you have said offended me, no worries.

I took a while to get to this because I wasn’t sure what insight I could give.

There are a lot of superpowers out there in the fictional world that have nothing to do with sight, whether it improves or worsens it. Reading minds wouldn’t be much different from eavesdropping on conversations nearby, so long as what they’re experiencing is the audio of thoughts and not the visual.

(Although that means that some people would be harder to read because they think in images and abstract concepts with little internal dialogue. Some think only in dialogue. Some with a mix, like myself. Which means the superpower isn’t all-powerful, which is better actually, because all-powerful is boring)

Being able to stop time or teleport to familiar places (without any visuals they don’t naturally have with their normal vision, since lots of blind people have some vision) could work. Feeling emotions. Controlling the weather. Charming animals. 

I think it’s worth looking at the Mary Sue principle: 

Does this power make the blind character over-powered for what they’re working against in the plot? 

Does the superpower make everything for the character more convenient, or does it come with as many downsides as it does upsides? 

Does the character take time to learn it like you do any other skill, such as learning to use a cane or read Braille? 

Does the character still need everything a non-superpowered blind person would need to function? (cane, guide dog, Braille, magnifiers, screen-reader, special light settings in their living environment)

Was the superpower made to explain away a plothole that could be fixed with some clever writing or plot reworking instead?

Mary Sue’s are something that’s been written and theorized and debated to death, and they are very different from a disabled original character or a fanfiction AU disabled character, but it’s easy to fall into the flaws of Mary Sue writing and make them too perfect or too capable.

This is just my personal theory, and I’m basing it off the way I see fandoms react to diverse characters, but there seems to be a pattern in which writers make their disabled character too perfect and too capable as a way of justifying their character decisions to a reader before the reader has even read it.

To which I say, disabled characters don’t need a reason to exist any more than abled characters need a reason to exist. Do you want to write this character and do they have a place in your story? Great, do it.

(It makes more sense to have disabled characters in a book than it does an android or dragon or demigod if you ask me. They exist everywhere, whereas dragons and androids and demigods only exist in specific fictional universes... that’s me running on a tangent)

Anyway, thank you for the ask anon. Every time someone sends me an ask on the subject and I sit down to answer I learn more about the subject in question. Arguing for or against a decision, or trying to work around a hypothetical problem, gives me the chance to reevaluate all the complexities of the issue and learn more rather than having an off-the-bat response to everyone.

That’s why every ask I get (even if it’s almost always the same situation) gets a unique response because by then I’ve learned something new about blindness that I didn’t have for the last ask, or I will rewrite my argument and almost always I inadvertently find a reason that contradicts my opinion and holds things in a new light and I love that.

There are millions of ways to be blind (fact: no blind person sees exactly the same as another, it’s all unique) and there are millions of ways to write blind characters. 

[seriouslyhooked]

Nothing Can Hurt Me

CS one-shot that rewrites the ending of 4x23. This has the angst of a would-be goodbye and none of the follow through. if you do not like overly fluffy happy endings, this fic is not for you. If, however, you want a solid dose of hope and a much needed true love’s kiss, please enjoy! Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you are all well and surviving as best you can in this strange and stressful time. I know I personally have needed some hope and light and love, and writing has been one way for me to try and find it. That’s what motivated this little drabble, which is a rewrite of the end of season 4. I once shared a rewrite for the reunion in that episode (4x23), but this is the final scene where Emma sacrifices herself to the darkness. I know it has been AGES since I rewrote a scene of Once, but this song (’Nothing Can Hurt Me by Frida Sundemo) gave me the idea and… well, you can all be the judge of how I did. Anyway, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Running from Gold’s shop to the center of town, Emma felt the weight of all this chaos gripping her tighter and tighter. 

So much had happened – so much was always freaking happening – and the crazy train in this town never showed any signs of stopping. Apparently, they needed Merlin (you know, like the magical wizard from the legends of Camelot) to be rid of this dark force, but there was no indication of how to go about finding him. They had nothing but yet another vague clue, and if Emma gave her thoughts any space to dwell on that, she’d probably go mad. Instead she channeled all the frustration and fear into running. They had no choice. They had to fight. It was the only way.

“Where is it?” she asked, sprinting towards the center of town with Killian hot on her heels.

“We don’t know,” her father answered, scanning her over, and seeing she was no worse for wear despite this latest upset.

“It just disappeared into the night,” her mother affirmed, gazing to the skyline for any trace of the magic that was hunting them all. Her archer’s instinct was on full display, and if anyone was going to see movement in the dark of the night it would be Snow White. Emma for her part looked out there and saw nothing but the inky black sky and the eerily quiet streets of Storybrooke.

“What’s going on?” Regina asked, appearing from down the way with Robin at her side. Killian explained to the best of his ability, allowing Emma to keep watch.

“The Dark One, it’s no longer tethered to the Crocodile.”

“What? Where the hell is it?”

The edge in Regina’s voice was reminiscent of tones Emma had heard from the Evil Queen, but Emma knew it was not just anger that made for the change in Regina. It was fear too. Still, they had to keep searching. Emma’s eyes traced over everything, hoping for a sign even while praying this was all just some kind of bad dream. Then it dawned on her, they couldn’t see it because it was everywhere. This force of nature was as smart as it was evil, a malicious magic intent on harming anything that wandered into its path or stood in its way. Right now it had no need to show itself, and instead it was spreading as far and wide as it could. The presence of it stopped the air from circulating. The darkness hung just out of sight, but it stifled everything. The only thing Emma could hear for a moment was the crackling of the electricity flowing through the powerlines and her own heart, thumping at a faster rate than normal, pumping adrenaline to every part of her.

Distracted by the silence, Emma missed the tentacled approach of the magic until she heard the breath leave Regina’s lungs. The Queen’s gasp was swift, but the magic was swifter, circling her, and strangling the very life out of her in seconds.

“Regina!” Robin yelled, but Emma barely heard him. Her instincts were crying out to her to help. Use magic! Do something! But she couldn’t. Her panic was winning over and she felt untethered to anything like hope. Moments passed where they all looked on helplessly, and only when Robin realized his efforts were futile did he look to Emma. “What’s it doing?”

“What darkness does,” Emma said, watching Regina grow dimmer and colder. “It’s snuffing out the light.”

“Well I’m not going to let it,” Robin said, running towards the woman he loved only to be thrust back full force to the ground. It was no use. They couldn’t break through. The Dark One’s magic was too powerful.

“That’s not going to work on this thing!” Emma said, wanting to keep Robin from hurting himself anymore. “The apprentice told me we have to do what the sorcerer did. We have to tether it to a person to contain it.”

And then it hit her, That person is me. It has to be. It’s the only way.

Finally, her body caught up with her mind. She walked towards the darkness, repellent as it was, as her parents cried out for her not to go. The only thing that stopped her, however, was Regina’s desperate plea.

“Emma, no!” she forced out, barely holding the darkness at bay but trying with all her might. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Emma said, the sick feeling of acceptance washing over her.

The truth was Regina simply wasn’t strong enough to resist the magic’s pull, and despite her attempts to change of late, she wasn’t good enough in her heart to stave something like this off. She had already shown how easy it was for evil to corrupt her, changed intentions or not. With the power of the Dark One… Emma shuddered to even imagine Regina. She’d be even more murderous and deranged than she had been years ago when she was trying to kill her parents and everyone who questioned her power. No, they couldn’t risk Regina being given this curse. They wouldn’t survive.

So this was the moment, then. The one where, after finally feeling like she had a real freaking chance at being happy, Emma was going to give it all up. She was going to trade in this life of promise and positive what-ifs and take instead a sickeningly scary magic that would likely eat her up from the inside out. But it was the only thing that would save them all. Her parents, Henry, Killian… when she looked at it that way, it was a simple choice.

Maybe I live, maybe I don’t, but my life for theirs… I’d make that deal with nothing like regret.

“Emma, no!” her father yelled as she moved towards the darkness. She looked to him and her mother, seeing Killian beside them. Her heart ached, but she shook her head at him. There was no debate in this. It had to be this way.

“You figured out how to take the darkness out of me once. You need to do it again. As heroes.”

“Emma! Emma, please!” Killian begged, running towards her and holding her hand, a final tether to the light. God, she loved this man. And here she was, breaking him apart in a million tiny pieces. “Don’t do this, love. Please.”

Looking in his ocean colored eyes, she saw a flash of everything they could have had if things were different. She knew, in her gut, that this was the only man for her, the only one who could tear down her walls and bolster her up in one fell swoop. He loved her unconditionally and without fail. He’d surrendered so much sooner to the feelings between them, showing her vulnerability that she needed to feel safe and sure, but they were both caught in the same blissful and scary as hell current. He was her soulmate, and this may be the last time she ever saw him.

“I love you,” she confessed, seeing the moment of recognition in his eyes. He’d already known her feelings even if the words never left her lips. They were impossible to hide even though she’d tried so desperately, but the words were coming at the most excruciating time, and even to her ears, they sounded an awful lot like a final goodbye.

Just one more kiss, she thought to herself, pulling him into her and letting the touch of his lips and his warm embrace breathe life into her. For a moment the darkness was nowhere in sight. It was just them. Just their love. Just the hope they shared together, and the dedication of two wills that would give anything to be together. Breaking away was the hardest thing she’d ever done, made all the worse by the fact that she had to take advantage of his distraction to push him back. When she did, she flung herself into the darkness and felt the magic swarm from Regina into her.

The feeling of it coiling around her made her blood run cold, as if she were submerged in ice water. She wanted to shiver from the chill, but could barely move. It was like being stuck in a vat of cement as the darkness descended. An anguished cry sounded out around her, and Emma realized that was her own pain emanating from her chest. The sharp sides of this magic were slicing into her, and unbiddenly she closed her eyes. A montage of the worst memories of her life flashed before her, ripping at old wounds that had never really healed.

It started with the slow crescendo of her childhood, a silent kind of torture where the defining part of every memory was the way she was always left behind. Families she was placed with, other kids in the system, teachers, case workers, all of them abandoned her in one way or another. None of them stayed, and in the end, it was always Emma left standing on her own, lost and forgotten and never ever chosen.

The memories flashed forward to Neal and the heartbreak of giving her love only to have it destroyed and tossed aside like it was nothing. The betrayal of his choices and the sting of losing yet another person, this time in a more malicious way made her as angry as it did sad. Still that was nothing at all to the realization that she was pregnant and the choice she knew she had to make to give Henry up for adoption when she was in jail. That sadness and that heartache was a bone deep one she was sure would never heal.

Only it did, in part, when she came back to Storybrooke. She was finally getting the chance to build a life, reconnecting with her son, but that was mired down by recent memories of Regina being a certifiable nightmare and the jarring moments she’d faced, like Graham’s sudden death. Emma had the comfort of Henry always, but even that had put so much pressure on her. She felt like a failure as a mother, always doubting she could be enough for her brilliant boy and torn between wanting him to have Regina in his life and knowing that Regina had also been deeply flawed in trying to raise her son. Oftentimes it felt like the only thing that got her through that initial time in Storybrooke was finding a true friend in Mary Margaret. She was the first real friend Emma had in her life.

Then she felt the moment that the truth was revealed. Of course, she was shocked with the news that Mary Margaret and David were really her parents, but along with the revelation that she had a family who loved and wanted her, there came a lot of pain, pain that they’d ever given her up in the first place, and pain that she had now lost that special friendship forever. It would never be the same for her and Mary Margaret when she was really Snow, and while she may love her parents dearly now, and had made more peace with their decision to make her a savior instead of a stable and securely loved little girl, it still inflicted so much pain on her and let a little more darkness creep into her heart.

When she’d made the choice to be back in Henry’s life again, she promised herself and her son that she would never do the same. She wouldn’t leave him, not when he deserved her love front and center in his life. But here she was going back on that promise. She didn’t want to leave, but she was barely even here anymore. The darkness had overtaken her. In one last show of strength, she opened her eyes and saw something that broke through the mind-numbing pain of this evil torture – Henry was out there, holding onto Killian and looking on in horror at her being consumed by this.

The tears rained down Henry’s face and she could see him yelling for her, but she couldn’t hear it. The whip of the magic’s winds was too strong. She realized he was actually trying to break through to get to her, but it was Killian holding him back. Looking to her pirate, Emma saw the pain in his gaze, as well as the determination. Determination to keep her son safe even though his own instincts must be screaming at him to try and help her too. God how she loved him. She only wished she’d been brave enough to tell him sooner.

Hold onto the love, Emma, a voice said to her, one that was vaguely familiar but certainly not hers. She did as it said, thinking of the possibilities for her and for Killian. In admitting her feelings, she had opened the door to wanting so much more. She could see things that she never imagined would ever come to pass – a real relationship with dating and affection, a marriage, a family. It was all so picturesque, and yes, it was what she would call a happily ever after, but at the heart of it all there would be one basic ingredient – true and everlasting love.

As if the thought alone sparked something, Emma felt the dark magic flinch. Curious, she continued her test. Finding strength from within, she spoke aloud, finding a command in her tone she never expected. “I love Killian and that love is true. Nothing this darkness does is ever going to change that.”

As if she’d whispered out a spell, magic burst forth, this time in her own familiar shade of bright golden white. It was small at first, but it created a barrier around her, letting her breathe in deeply and recenter herself. She was in awe at the display of power here, amazed that she was able to put up any kind of fight, so she kept going, knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try.

“I love my parents and my son so much more than I ever thought I could. I used to be afraid to care so much, but I’m not afraid anymore. Not with Henry. Not with my family.”

Again, the magic grew brighter and this time it began to merge with the darkness, touching the blackness that was trying to destroy her and neutralizing it. The color shifted from midnight to onyx, from cobalt to lighter gray, then the darkness was nothing more than a silvery shimmer. Slowly her lighter magic worked through the attacking succubus, and though there was a sound in the air crying out like a wounded animal, Emma knew it was the dying of darkness that was making that cry. The threat, miraculously, was fading, and it was love, and her, that made it possible.

“And most importantly, I can love and accept love because I learned to love myself. I didn’t know that was possible, but now I know that real love, true loves, require that. Because I love myself, I let love guide me. Because I love myself, nothing can hurt me.”

That was it, the last of the darkness was extinguished and the dark one’s dagger fell to the ground, no name etched in its blade any longer. Then they all watched as Emma’s light magic burst forward in a glorious gust, washing out over all of them and beyond. Emma felt it extending to the outer limits of Storybrooke. Her magic had created a layer of protection, a spell made to safeguard all the people she loved. She only had a few seconds to appreciate that, and then she felt Henry lurching towards her in a back breaking hug filled with relief.

“Mom, you did it! You destroyed the darkness, and you saved us all.”

“You think it’s really gone?” Snow asked and Regina and Emma replied at the same time with a resounding “Yes.”

“There’s nothing left of it,” Regina said, flicking her fingers towards the air and pushing her own magic out to test the waters. It’s just…gone.”

“But how?” Killian asked, still standing at somewhat of a distance, his shock so palpable it had frozen him in place.

Emma could see his resistance to believe that this had all concluded this way. He knew the moment she stepped forward the choice she was making in sacrificing herself. She was supposed to leave, supposed to be lost. They were going to be separated through time and space and whatever other fresh hell the Dark One had in store, but here she was, still alive and still very much in one piece. Instinctively she moved towards him, wrapping him up in a hug and loving the feeling when he held her close. They became each other’s anchors to this miraculous moment, and despite the exertion of what had just happened, she felt energized and ready.

“I don’t understand,” Killian murmured, looking into her eyes once more and shaking his head. His hook came to push a strand of her wayward hair back as he gazed at her in wonder. “Merlin was supposed to be the answer. The Apprentice was clear. How did you do it?”

“Love,” Emma said with a smile before rolling her eyes at herself and letting out a groan. God that sounded so freaking cheesy and even if she was eternally grateful for the magic in their love, it was still too much for her to really stomach. “Wow, that sounds corny, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think it sounds ‘corny’ at all,” her mother said with a bit of huffiness, defensive of the true love status she and David had.

“So in the end all it took was true love’s kiss?” Regina asked, shaking her head as Robin pulled her in his arms and whispered in her ear to be nice. She laughed and then softened her commentary. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be done with this, but we had plenty of that to spare. You think someone might have mentioned it.”

“I don’t think it was that simple,” Emma said, explaining what had happened to her inside that force field. She explained that Killian and Henry and the others were her tethers, but the magic was only complete when she believed in herself.

“You were right then, Swan,” Killian said, holding her hand tightly. “It had to be you. No one else could have handled that as you did.”

“Well except Merlin,” Henry said with a shrug. “But you know what, I bet it was never even about Merlin in the first place.”

“You think?” Emma asked, intrigued and Henry nodded.

“Yeah. I mean every time heroes get sent on a quest it’s about learning a lesson, right?” They all nodded. “And every time anything happens in Storybrooke it’s all of us who have to fix the problem starting with ourselves. The answers are in us the whole time. Especially you, Mom.”

“You know what, kid, I think you may be right.”

“Well you know what that means,” Henry said though no one hazarded a guess. “Since we saved the day we get to celebrate. Cocoa at Granny’s. I’m paying.” Emma looked at Henry quizzically, silently asking where he would have gotten that kind of money. Henry only laughed. “Okay, actually Grandpa’s paying.”

“Works for me,” her Dad agreed, clapping Henry on the shoulder affectionately. From there everyone headed towards the diner, but Emma and Killian lingered a moment more.

“So, it’s really behind us then?” Killian asked.

“Yes, it’s behind us. Can’t promise how long it’ll stay calm and collected here – we haven’t got a great track record in that department – but the Dark One is done. That much I know.”

“And what you said earlier…” Killian couldn’t bring himself to ask the words aloud so Emma moved in closer, running her hand against his jaw and offering him a smile.

“I meant it, Killian, and I am not taking it back. I love you. I really, truly do.”

“Thank the Gods for that, love.”

And with that the two of them kissed, sharing a moment of sheer pleasure and joy. They had averted a crisis and they still had the chance to make this thing between them work. This was a new day for the two of them, and the start of something Emma was eager and a little anxious to explore further.

At the corner of her mind she heard something. Like the sizzle of pancakes on a griddle, or the popping of air in a bubbly drink. She and Killian broke apart, and there it was – that rainbow tinted magic she’d only seen a few times before.

“True love’s kiss,” she whispered, and then the two of them watched as the dagger that once was deteriorated before their eyes. Soon it was nothing more than ash, and as it blew away in the breeze the magic of their embrace rid it from the world entirely.

“Finally,” Killian said, as if he’d been waiting for them to share such a moment forever.

“Been waiting on that have you?” she joked and he looked properly chastised before letting his boyish grin go free.

“Perhaps. Though can you really blame me, Swan? In this town it’s practically a right of passage. Your father and mother certainly talk of little else, and since there is no way anyone loves their partners more than I love you, I just thought –,”

Before he could ramble on about his competitive pirate nature, Emma pulled him by the collar down for another kiss. That successfully silenced him and distracted them both, grounding them in how lucky they were to have this and to have each other.  And though they couldn’t steal more than a few more moments together before rejoining the others, Emma knew that they had so much more to live together. For in choosing love, she’d cemented their future, and that future was looking bright, and hopeful, and so much happier than she ever could have dreamed.

……………

Noises from the window Flashes from the street Tired in the backseat And nothing could hurt me Surrounded by the talking Swallowed by the rain Sleeping in the backseat I know that nothing could hurt me It was a long time ago I'm far away but feel like home We're all awake in stereo Keeping the moving ground aglow And nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I know that nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I can see you with my eyes shut It flickers past me now Listen to distant chatter I know that everything's alright It was a long time ago I'm far away but feel like home We're all awake in stereo Keeping the moving ground aglow And nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I know that nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me Nothing that they'd ever do Could never dim any light from the view And any gravel that gets in my way Could never break me apart anyway

Post-Note: So there we have it. I know some of you may be wondering why I felt the need to rewrite this scene, when it brought us to all of the season 5 storylines, but to be honest, I had a very difficult time with this episode when it first aired for two reasons. The first was that yet again Emma was sacrificing herself for everyone, and she just couldn’t have a happy moment. I literally watched the show for Emma. Yes, also for CS, but mostly for Emma herself and as an Emma stan it was just brutal to watch her get the short end of the stick every damn time. But more than that, the written dialogue in the original scene has Emma sacrifice herself in Regina’s place because Regina, ‘worked too hard for her happy ending.’ I always thought that was kind of ridiculous, and I liked Regina as a character. It just wasn’t really true in my estimation. I felt like Emma had worked much harder and had been so much kinder to people, overcoming trauma that was really bad and which made her so guarded and always made her second guess her own worth. But she was still forced to just continuously sacrifice herself and to undermine her own growth for the sake of Regina’s getting some other-character endorsement. I don’t know, like I said, complicated, and many of you may not agree. But I hope you’ll all read this as what it is – an attempt to give EVERYONE a fluffier, nicer outcome. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and see you all next time!

The Captain Swan Mixtape oneshot series:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194

[ve1vetyoongi]

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 

[vexillumalbum]

Hello! Whenever you do open requests, could you do the Insecure MC headcanons with Lucien and Victor as well? They’re my favorites so I’d really appreciate it. Loved those headcanons with Kiro and Gavin!

Hello to you too Anon! I struggled a bit with writing these so they can be a bit off. I hope you’ll forgive me. 

Victor’s HC I treated a little too personal (let’s say I’m in a similar situation as MC is here, because my partner is “wealthy” and I am not as much and when I tell you some rich people are ruthless... yeah they are) so I got a little carried away. I then tried to rewrite it but it just got worse so I decided to post it like that. 

As to Lucien - I don’t know him very well. I only have a few of his karmas, and I played only two of his dates. I do not dislike him, he is just not my type in otome games. 

With that being said I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy these HCs. Have a great day/night and please stay safe! 

*slight spoilers*

“You are gorgeous* with Victor and Lucien:

Victor

“Are you okay in there?” A deep voice from behind the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly wiped your face with a towel, which you then threw into a basket of dirty laundry and looked in the mirror, hoping that you would not see a tearful woman with red eyes and swollen cheeks.

There is a reason, however, that they say hope is the mother of fools.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Give me a minute!” Your voice almost cracked and it took everything in you not to start crying again. You grabbed another towel, soaked it in cold water and started to vigorously tap it on your face to make the puffiness disappear. 

On the other side of the door was standing very worried Victor with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He wasn’t deaf, he heard your sobs coming out of the bathroom a while ago and immediately wanted to know what’s wrong but knew you would not tell him right away. So leaned on the wall next to the door and waited for you to enter your shared bedroom.

Paler than a few minutes earlier you finally walked out with a tight smile plastered on your face. You rubbed your still-a-little-shaky hands on your silk robe to occupy them with something and get rid of the feeling of overwhelming nervousness.

♪ Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know ♪ (I’m sorry, I got carried away)

“Who are you trying to fool?” He knew. Of course he knew. 

“I’m tired, Victor. Can we please go to bed?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s bothering you.” He was giving you The Look™. This icy glare that he used at work that was basically saying „do as I say” and that every LFG employee was afraid of. You’ve seen The Look™ so many times now it didn’t bother you anymore but Victor didn’t even flinch when you tried to push past him in order to get to the bed. He was stubborn and you were   sick and tired of your own thoughts so you gave in.

Being the girlfriend of one of the most influential people in the country (*cough* the whole world *cough*) brought many advantages. Fancy business meetings, cruises on private yachts, beautiful views from hotel windows when you were traveling together for business trips. Not to mention how much love Victor gave you and how much he did for you privately, behind closed doors, where he showed you his tender loving side. 

But it also had many downsides. The people you two were mingling with were refined, elegant, sometimes you could even say stuck-up. And you felt like you didn’t belong there. Hell, you knew you didn’t.

Everything was a race between them. Who drove a better car, who had more investments, who knew more languages, who graduated from better university. Where was your place in this picture? 

You weren’t stupid, you were the boss of your own company, you were extremely strong-willed and dutiful, you worked hard, but somehow you still didn’t see yourself worthy of being Victor’s partner. 

In addition, there was the fact that Victor had little time for you - which of course you understood, he could not put his duties aside because of your whims - but somewhere inside you were still a bit upset.

Your boyfriend didn't know how to react. From the first day of your acquaintance, he saw you as someone confident, brave, not worried about failures, but only going forward. You managed to convince him HIM to give you and your company a chance. Never in a million years would he had guessed that under your tough exterior lay so many insecurities.

He held your shaking body in a tight embrace occasionally giving you a kiss on the crown of your head partially to calm you down and partially to calm himself down. He treated the fact that because of the self-doubt you brought yourself to the state where you cried when locked in a bathroom alone, as a private failure. 

Now he had to make up for every time he weren’t there with you. For you. 

You were used to lonely evenings spent in front of the TV with your favorite pudding (which compensated his absence a bit). So you were very surprised when a few days later he announced that from now on two evenings a week you would be obligated to spend together doing whatever you would like to.

Watching TV, playing piano, eating, having sex. You named it - he was down for it.

At banquets, when he saw your eyes begin to waver, he hugged you closer to his side or squeezed your hand a bit harder. He made you understand that he was next to you and did not intend to leave you. So you better not leave him

Oh, and if someone tried to offend you or your intelligence/appearance/mannerisms/whatever…

He would be with you in a minute and with the help of The Look™and his CEO voice he would let the poor thing know that the only person with whom something was wrong in the room was them.

Victor was not very good at comforting you with words, but his actions expressed more than a thousand of them. 

When you felt the need for self-pity, he brought you a cup of your favorite tea, covered your body with a blanket and hugged to himself, leaning your head against his sturdy chest. This way he made sure that you weren't alone with your problems. Sometimes he was also combing your hair with his fingers humming a melody he knew you loved, because you were constantly playing it on the piano. Like a parent calming their child down.

“Victor, thank you.” You said one time, your voice tired.

“Sleep, dummy. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He once lost you. He wasn’t going to risk it happening again. You were definitely the love of his life, the only person he would ever wait for. So if he had to wait for you to love yourself properly, so be it. 

Lucien

The spark of joy disappeared from your eyes some time ago. 

Lucien was a researcher, an observer, he knew when changes to your behavior occurred. He noticed them right away. 

How you were sabotaging yourself when something good happened to you. How you were dragging down all your accomplishments. How you became even harder on yourself to the point when you were falling asleep in different places because you were so fatigued. 

You were physically and emotionally drained but you kept going anyway cause if you stop, insecurities would eat you alive. 

“When are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind lately, butterfly?” A simple question asked during breakfast when he put a cup of chamomile tea in front of you made you almost choke on eggs you were currently chomping.

“Whatever you mean, Lucien…”

“I thought you were the one who said that a healthy relationship is based on honesty and openness. Weren’t you?”

This man. Seriously. 

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in that matter.”

“On the contrary. I am interested in about everything regarding your person.”

At that point you were sure he was aware of a mess you had inside your head. He gave it away by the way he grabbed your hand and wrapped his long fingers around yours, to later bring them to his lips and kiss each knuckle. It was a tender gesture, one he often did to lift your spirits.

You didn't quite want to explain everything to him, uncover all of your insecurities, but when he looked at you as penetrating as if he wanted to expose your soul as gently as possible, you couldn't refuse him. 

He held your hand all the time, didn’t let it go even when you rested your head on his shoulder while weeping.

To say that it broke Lucien's heart is an understatement. He knew everything he heard from you that morning. He had all this information, and yet to hear from you how much you did not believe in yourself, how much you loathed yourself, was a blow to him.

All he could do was gradually try to get you out of your bubble. He wanted to replace all that ugliness that you wore inside with something beautiful. 

Step one: A healthy mind in a healthy body. Who was supposed to know it better than a doctor?

As you struggled with drooping eyelids trying to perfect another report, which was impossible, Lucien's strong arms gently pulled you away from the desk and led you towards the bed. After several times, you even stopped protesting.

Chamomile tea has always been provided to you in stressful situations. Lucien even instructed Anna to prepare this tea for you at the company where he had no possibility of being.

Your boyfriend attached great importance to what you ate because it was a well-known fact that people with a diet rich in vitamins and omega-3 had a better mood. Oh no, no more junk food

Step two: exhibitions, galleries, theater, cinema, stargazing, watching the skylights, amusement park.

Between research and teaching at the university, Lucien took you to all the places you could have thought of. He took the replacement of ugliness with beauty quite literally. 

Your favorite place was a temporary butterfly exhibition at the Natural Museum, because there your boyfriend led you from a display case to a display case and was telling you passionately every interesting fact he knew about different species. How unguarded he became there was amusing but also very sweet.

“Did you know that this butterfly pups quite late and its wings are slightly smaller than the rest of the butterflies living in this area? This does not prevent him from being the most beautiful and useful of all of them.” He said pointing with one hand to one of the insects while the other was drawing small circles on the small of your back.

Did he just compared you to a butterfly?

Step three: a good ol’ love-making.

This man thought that if it doesn't reach you normally, it will hit you how wonderful you are through various positions in bed. Not only in bed

Good luck walking for the next few days

You gave Lucien’s life color, showed him that living with someone who cared about him and loved him was far better, happier. He was going to repay that favor now.

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[lightsandlostbells]

wtFOCK season 3, episode 5 reaction

This whole episode I kept doing that Marge Simpson groan. You know, the one that’s like tight-lipped and this low, exasperated mmm from deep in the throat? That was me constantly.

Episode 5

Clip 1 - Jens gives Robbe sex advice

Robbe texts his mom and says to her he can’t visit, lying that it’s because he’s sick. One repeated element that does exist in this season is Robbe listening to music on his headphones, which is him retreating into himself, or using music to cope. The song lyrics reflect that: “I used to feel so alone, now I’m feeling better on my own.”

Since I’ve been trying to think of ways to rewrite this season, they could expand Robbe using music as a coping strategy even further. Music should have been something that Robbe bonds with Sander over. And not just Sander’s recommendation of Bowie, either, which is all they’ve done so far - it seems like Robbe should give recs or insight as well. Talk about how important music is to him with Sander. Make it a serious point in their developing relationship.

Jens skates up and talks to Robbe. Robbe wants to get high, but Jens doesn’t have weed with him at the moment. He asks Robbe if he’s thought about the Brrrothers, because they’re not the same without Robbe. Robbe snaps and turns away from him, then lies and says his bad mood is about Noor. Jens has already heard that they’re fighting.

Jens’ talk to Robbe, knowing that Noor wants to have sex and Robbe doesn’t, is actually pretty sweet. Even though he doesn’t understand the real reason why Robbe doesn’t want to, his talk is thoughtful and not shaming Robbe for being a nervous virgin, it’s considerate of him. Considering the Brrrothers have been obnoxious about sex and girls all season, this was a refreshing change. One question I do have is how Jens knew that Noor wanted sex and Robbe didn’t, but I guess it was implied that this explanation was part of the rumor mill. 

Of course, the downside is that Jens’ advice prompts Robbe to text Noor about how he misses her and wants to meet up. Bad, Robbe! I don’t know if Jens’ talk encouraged Robbe to text her because Robbe was like “Yeah, I’m supposed to like Noor, better get back on that,” or because maybe he genuinely told himself, “I just don’t want to have sex with her because I’m nervous, yeah, that must be it,” and decided to just move forward with it. 

I do like drama that comes from characters trying to be helpful but unintentionally saying or doing the wrong thing - that’s what happens in the locker room scene with Isak and Even. When Isak says he’s better off without mentally ill people in his life, he’s telling Even this as a way of saying that his mother won’t cause problems for them, he doesn’t care what she’ll think of them dating. So taken on its own, I think this scene is fine.

HOWEVER. The pacing of this season is again, SO SO weird, because this scene would have fit right in around episodes 2-3? Right after Robbe tried and failed to have sex with Noor, you know ... the first time? Or the second, or the third? Like … have it be in line with Isak’s episode 3 sexuality crisis, all the “why does he have to be so gay” stuff. It would’ve worked well to have this talk at like, the beginning of episode 3, and then have Robbe making the “that guy is so gay” comment as an unintentional result of this - by trying to convince himself he is just straight and nervous and distancing himself from being gay. We had three entire scenes of Robbe failing to fuck Noor, so narratively, why did we need to wait this long for Jens to talk to him about it? 

Clip 2 - AGAIN?

Robbe invites Noor over to bone. He’s lit about a million candles and is trying to make this a big romantic deal, except lmao, he has on David Bowie’s Life on Mars … Robbe … what u doing…

Actually, I’m not sure if this is diegetic music or not, if Robbe is blasting Bowie from his phone as mood music or if he’s only hearing this song inside his head. I think we’re definitely meant to take away that Robbe is hearing the song since it gets distorted as he slinks down Noor’s body, and that it’s not just there for the audience. In either case, Sander is supposedly the shadow hanging over this sad hetero affair.

Tbh listening to Life on Mars is the best part of this season and I wish I could just like … listen to this song play against a black screen instead of watching poorly written, repetitive clips.

They start to get it on and he takes off her shirt, unhooks her bra, yadda yadda, he doesn’t look happy but he soldiers on and it’s implied they went All The Way. On the one hand, I will rage if they actually had sex. On the other hand, if they don’t, it’s yet another clip where the same shit happens, Robbe tries to bang Noor and fails.. 

Clip 3 - Robbe’s not turned on by Noor and this is BRAND NEW INFORMATION

… okay, so he didn’t have sex with her AGAIN? He couldn’t get it up?

For fuck’s sake. I mean, on the one hand I’m glad it was actually Robbe’s choice (apparently) to put a stop to the sex instead of like, someone else walking in and interrupting yet again, but on the other hand, I feel like we have done this scene SO MUCH. We KNOW. About the only thing that’s changed I guess is that Robbe kissed a boy and now he’s trying to be straight? If this was only like the second time this scene had happened, it would have been fine.

I just don’t have a coherent idea of Robbe’s arc. This season is going in circles. 

Anyway, Robbe couldn’t get it up, Noor is sympathetic, she asks if it’s her, Robbe says she’s amazing, he looks sad and haunted blah blah we’ve already seen this play out.

Why were these separate clips? In the first clip, we have Robbe seemingly determined to have sex with Noor, and then in the second, he can’t get it up. So why not SHOW THE MOMENT OF CHANGE? Are these filmmakers on drugs? This is storytelling 101. Like there’s no reason to split up these clips except to cause a bit of anxiety if you happen to be able to watch the clips at the exact time they’re posted, and from a real-time perspective I get it, but that’s ineffective for the vast majority of people who will have to watch later and then will watch these two clips together at the same time. I mean, the fact that it’s not even 10 minutes in between clips … just SHOW THE WHOLE SCENE. Holy fuck. How are they this incompetent?

The pacing of the scenes themselves is so weird. So many of the clips are oddly short, we don’t NEED them to be split into parts. It makes me really appreciate Julie’s pacing: Skam S3 episodes had 4-6 clips each, and in those clips, we got rich scenes packed with details, often multi-tasking within different story threads. wtFOCK’s pacing is simplistic and choppy and unnecessary.

Clip 4 - Milan gives Robbe a pep talk

Robbe is Googling erectile dysfunction which is honestly kind of funny (but again, probably would have been a better fit for earlier in this season, before Robbe had already kissed a dude ...) Milan comes in wanting advice on two shirts, Robbe is annoyed.

Milan tries to get Robbe to talk to him. It takes some prodding (and I do like how Robbe is swiveling in his chair and not looking at Milan) but Robbe admits there’s a guy who likes him and, after Milan asks, admits that it’s mutual. 

Tbh … I don’t find it so hard to believe that Robbe opened up to Milan even though they’re not anywhere as close as Eskild and Isak, because I do think another gay guy is a “safe” person to talk to about this situation and I can see Robbe doing it. What I do NOT get is why, here and now, Robbe is now openly admitting it. Why did we go from Robbe trying to fuck a girl and, before that, calling the boy he kissed a pervert and a homophobic slur, to admitting his attraction for a boy? Why the sudden turnaround? Based on the clips themselves, all we have to go off as a turning point is that he couldn’t fuck Noor, BUT this is nothing new for either Robbe and the audience, AND not being able to fuck a girl does not actually mean that Robbe would be able to fuck a guy, or that he’s into guys, and it especially doesn’t mean that Robbe would accept that he likes a guy.  I mean, he’s Googling “erectile dysfunction” not “am I gay?” which tbh seems still more like denial than anything. He’s blaming his lack of arousal on a medical issue, not his sexuality.

This scene would feel more true to me if Robbe was like, downplaying his side of it, or playing it off as only Sander had feelings and it wasn’t requited. That’s more in line with the characterization we have just been given, that Robbe is denying his attraction to Sander.

Another way would be to not split up the sex clip and to show like, Robbe flashing back to his kiss with Sander while he’s making out with Noor, so we get that it’s not just that he’s not into Noor, it’s that he’s very into Sander, and we see him grudgingly admit to himself that yes, he’s attracted to Sander (at the very least.) which would make it believable that he admits it to Milan. Cause and effect, etc.

MIlan is like, are you so nervous to tell me you have a crush on another guy (...????? um, yes, Milan, you have to know it’s hard to come out???) but is pretty supportive and says Robbe’s lucky to have him, Milan would have wanted himself when he was going through this. Robbe is just like, I don’t know what I feel and I want everything to be normal, there’s too much shit going on right now. Milan says Robbe IS normal and he doesn’t want to bottle up who he is, the pressure will get too real and he’ll explode, he’ll hurt people. Robbe seems to take this advice seriously, so hopefully this scene will actually lead to cause + effect.

Again, this scene is fine on its own? There’s just something about the pacing of the season as a whole that feels strange.

I don’t know if this is supposed to be the equivalent of the Pride clip, because Robbe doesn’t say anything offensive and Milan didn’t get upset. Milan’s advice is good about not pushing away who you really are, but there’s nothing specifically confronting internalized homophobia, which Robbe desperately needs seeing as he’s had some extremely homophobic outbursts. I think it’s a shame to lose that part of the scene, because it’s got a very pointed and urgent message. (EDIT from the future: We got the Pride clip later in the episode, so that’s good.)

Clip 5 - Robbe tells Jens he likes someone else

Robbe is sitting on the sidelines listening to music again. Jens comes over and asks how things are, Robbe says he took his advice with Noor and Jens is happy that he’s a matchmaker. Robbe is like no, there’s someone else. He says he thought it would go away, but it didn’t. 

For a moment it seems like this might be a sudden coming out scene, but Jens finally asks who it is and Robbe clams up and finds it hard to get out. Jens asks if she goes to their school. Robbe is saved by Moyo wanting to play a game against some guys.

This is some plausible conflict, at the very least, Robbe not being able to tell his friends that he’s into a guy. It would have been way better to focus on this instead of Robbe flinging a slur at Sander. Robbe’s friends seem like the clearest explanation for his internalized homophobia. 

Now Jens needs to follow up on this development, or else turn in his Jonas card. Because there’s dropping the subject if he senses Robbe doesn’t want to tell him yet, and then there’s forgetting about the subject because Jens isn’t that engaged with what’s happening with Robbe, and unfortunately the latter vibe has come across far more than the first. Like why does it seem like Jens is always walking away?

Clip 6 - Robbe breaks up with Noor

Old Town Road is playing as Noor meets Robbe in a cafe. One thing I do notice is that there are a fair amount of gay musicians on the soundtrack this season, so that’s cool.

Robbe is stressed because we can tell he’s gonna try to break up with Noor. He doesn’t order anything to eat. Noor is sympathetic about him not getting it up with her, but Robbe says he needs some time for himself, he has so much shit on his mind. Noor says she can help with that, he’s like nah, Noor is crying and reaching for him desperately. He gets up and walks out.

L O L I heard all about how Robbe supposedly handled this better than Isak, and I mean … on the one hand, I certainly agree that he did Noor a solid by officially breaking up with her and not just running away from her in the hallway. But er ... first of all, Robbe went wayyyyyyyyy farther with Noor than Isak EVER did with Emma. Robbe and Noor had an actual relationship for what, a month? Isak and Emma made out twice and flirted a bit. They were not exclusively, seriously dating. So yeah, Noor is owed this breakup. 

Second, Robbe still cheated on her with Sander before he broke up with her. The fact that they were naked while they made out in the pool frankly adds an on-screen sexual element to the cheating. And technically Isak making out with Even in the pool was not cheating … for sure it was a dick move to lead on Emma and then ditch her like that, I’m not going to say it was NBD, but like I said, they weren’t exclusively dating. I mean, in all my years of Skam fandom, it’s pretty rare that I’ve heard anyone refer to what Isak did as cheating - it’s usually talked about differently than Even cheating on Sonja. Robbe and Sander BOTH cheated on their girlfriends here. 

Third, it’s nice he did this with Noor but lmao, kinda small potatoes considering what Robbe said to Sander. 

Fourth, Robbe just gets up and leaves while she’s crying, lol. He let her order soup and then he ditched her! That’s cold as ice! Bro, you need to stick around until she tells you to leave, or you needed to pick a breakup location where both of you can leave ASAP without someone coming by with the meal you ordered.

And to be clear, I don’t think Robbe not handling this perfectly makes him a terrible person or anything. It’s more the comparison to Isak with how Isak is supposedly worse and Robbe is much nicer. Nah.

Sucks for Noor and all, but whyyyy are they making the Emma character so tragic and emphasizing this het relationship so much? We don’t even end the clip on Robbe’s POV. Because how he feels about this breakup doesn’t matter, I guess. Does he feel guilty? Free? Unsure? Conflicted? IDK because we close on her, not him! I’m sorry, but it’s not her season!

I mentioned this in an earlier reaction but I’m just super tired of gay storylines that have this intense focus on how much someone being gay hurts a straight person. I believe I mentioned Love, Victor as a prominent example, because Victor’s relationship with his girlfriend seemingly gets more screen time than the relationship with his actual male love interest. And I get why this storyline is relevant to a coming out arc, of course I do, but it really bugs me when the het relationship seems to overshadow the gay relationship, as it does here. At this point I feel like Robbe/Noor has been given equal plot relevance as Robbe/Sander, if not more, and that should not be the case. It’s not about shipping, it’s about wanting a story about a gay kid’s journey of self-acceptance to focus more on the life-changing love story that is the catalyst for embracing his sexuality, than the fake passion-less relationship that is doomed to failure that is just a momentary stumble in said journey of self-acceptance. There is no need to demonize Noor, but there is actually a middle ground between treating her with respect and empathy and making her the real victim of this story.

This narrative choice also does not exist in a vacuum. It is completely fair to be skeptical of the prioritization of a het relationship over a gay one. It’s fair to wonder why we’ve gotten multiple scenes of Robbe getting hot and heavy with a girl, why Robbe spends a pivotal clip being so sad about Noor that he doesn’t seem to really notice or care that he’s alone with the guy he supposedly likes. 

I mean, fuck, Robbe seems more upset about hurting Noor’s feelings by breaking up with her for legitimate reasons than he does about hurting Sander’s feelings by calling him a f*g and accusing him of sexual assault.

Clip 7 - Robbe tries to speak with Sander

Robbe goes to school (not his school, Sander’s) and asks where the art room is. He’s in a way better mood, a spring in his step, but LMAO you better pray that Sander actually wants to talk to you rather than kick your ass or avoid you for all eternity because of what you said to him.

Sander is sketching a nude male model. Robbe seems happy just to see him. He walks away and goes to the bathroom, fixes his hair, stares in the mirror, takes a deep breath. Then he goes up to Sander after the bell rings. Robbe wants to talk, Sander is not having it and walks away. Robbe is sad, angsty music plays. 

Uhhhhh, serves you right? No offense but I can’t even feel sad for Robbe in this scenario, because what he did crossed a line. Internalized homophobia is a hell of a drug, but there’s such a difference between Robbe just denying that the kiss meant anything or blaming it on being drunk or whatever, and essentially accusing Sander of sexual assault and calling him a slur. It’s not an ignorant mistake, it’s a malicious one. I feel bad that Robbe ever had such self-hatred that he made those comments in the first place and I certainly don’t hate him or think he should be forever alone, but it is 100% understandable why Sander would not want to speak to him after that.

Also, going up to Sander at his school was not the best move, because he’s basically ambushing him. Sander doesn’t have a choice whether to deal with Robbe in that moment. It would’ve been better if Robbe sent him some kind of apology text or voicemail first and left it up to Sander whether he wanted to meet. I get that’s not as good for televised dramaaaa, but it’s kinder to Sander. (And if Sander doesn’t respond, or if he’s blocked Robbe, well, those are just consequences of Robbe’s actions that he’ll have to live with.)  EDIT: Robbe actually did contact Sander first via text, wanting to meet up so he could explain. That does make it somewhat better, although I still think he shouldn’t have approached him at school. If Sander doesn’t want to talk to you? Then give him space. Maybe he’ll be willing to hear you out in time, or maybe he’ll decide he’s better off without you, but Robbe’s the one who did something wrong and it’s not up to Robbe whether Sander forgives him.

Clip 8 - Robbe and Sander make up and kiss

Angsty music keeps playing as Robbe walks home. He sees a mom and her kids playing, more sadness presumably due to his own family troubles.

Sander has followed him and says he has five minutes. Robbe’s like “Why don’t you want to talk?” LMAO IDK ROBBE, WHAT COULD IT BE. 

Robbe says he’s sorry and that he loves Sander. LMAO WHAT. Is this a nuance of translation where “I love you” isn’t as strong as it is in English? Are you kidding me? 

First of all … he LOVES Sander when they’ve barely interacted? They’ve spoken only a handful of times. Hell, they only met in episode 3, and this is episode 5. It’s been like two weeks since they’ve met, and while I could buy that some ships fell in love in that short of time, this is sure as fuck not one of them.

Second … Robbe goes from shoving Sander and calling him horrible things and trying to fuck Noor, to professing his love for Sander, WITHIN DAYS? And this is the character who’s supposed to have a big coming out arc? What is nuance, what is good writing, what is a coherent idea of this character’s struggles with his sexuality and himself... The talk with Milan might convince Robbe to accept his feelings, but it would make way more sense if Robbe was more tentative about them. He doesn’t need to come out swinging the big epic declarations in order to accept his romantic interest in Sander.

Like this isn’t even based on what I personally think is believable for a romance, this is based on what wtFOCK has told me about this character! They made the choice to make him say more viciously homophobic things. They made the choice to have him go back to Noor and try to have sex with her for the millionth time.

I’m glad that Sander doesn’t buy the confession at first, at least. 

Robbe says that he was really fucked up and hat Sander is the first dude. There is a cute moment where he’s like “that kiss (mimes fireworks)” but then things went Chernobyl. Would have been great if we saw exactly what made him go Chernobyl and make him regret the kiss. He says he’s sorry but asks for one more chance.

Sander steps in, leans in for a kiss. “What about Chernobyl?” “Fuck Chernobyl.” They kiss, it’s really sweet, but lol they’re kissing in public??? Robbe is ok with this?? I just have abso-fucking-lutely no idea where this kid’s head is. Like ... how is he so cool with this considering where he was just days ago? Apparently Robbe’s internalized homophobia was so extreme that he was all “get away from me f*g” toward Sander with no clear catalyst, but also not so extreme that it couldn’t be fixed with a pep talk from Milan? Okay!

This scene would have been totally fine if Robbe’s mistake was less cruel and amounted to blocking Sander or telling him to stay away or w/e. It doesn’t feel satisfying for what Robbe actually did say.

Also, sigh, because Sander did forgive Robbe just like that, and I don’t buy it. I mean, if anything, it makes me sad for Sander. I want to tell him that he deserves better. I suppose I can buy this as part of his fear that no one will ever love him, that he’s desperate to be accepted and loved and so is quick to forgive.

It would have made more sense for Robbe to have a longer period of self-reflection, have him come out to his friends, etc. and then reunite with Sander an episode or so later, similar to how Isak and Even reunited at the end of episode 7. Or to have Sander take some time before letting Robbe talk to him, during which Robbe works on his own issues.

Sander gets a call from Britt, which he ignores, saying Britt’s the past, he and Robbe are the future (as the song lyrics talk about the future and the past … they’re going pretty on the nose this season. Fine by me, OG was also on the nose.) Lmao but Robbe has no right to be upset about Britt after he explicitly told Sander to stay away. I mean, it’s dubious of Sander to keep dating her after cheating, but he also thought Robbe was no longer an option sooo don’t be surprised Sander is still with her, dude.

Sander goes to meet Britt, but not before some make outs, some handholding. I think their chemistry is good! It’s just that I don’t really buy the depth of this relationship. It legit makes me sad that these actors are getting served this half-assed material. 

Clip 9 - Zoë gets a letter

Robbe goes home and gets a text from Sander, with a sketch of them, saying their kiss was Chernobyl. Well, that’s cute.

Milan is telling Zoë about seeing some straight-looking dude on the bus who melted when Milan looked at him. Robbe is in a good mood and is gonna do the cooking. Milan observes that he’s happy and asks if things went well with his (Robbe looks toward Zoë) “lovely girlfriend”. At least Milan covered for him! (EDIT from the future: Ahahaha, funny considering how casually people out Robbe this season...) 

Robbe hands Zoë some mail that turns out to do with Viktor, the apparent Nikolai in this version, about the case going to court. She has to testify. She is upset and walks out of the kitchen.

I complained a bit about Zoë/Senne drama taking up time in Robbe’s season, but to be clear, I have no problem with them following up on this plot point from S2. It’s a hugely important story. But I also think it works best if you integrate it into Robbe’s story, by drawing a parallel to their situations, finding a common theme, etc. And it depends on whether Robbe’s story is otherwise satisfactory, because if the writing is pretty tight, I’m not really bothered by digressions in other characters’ subplots. 

Clip 10 - Robbe and Sander get cozy

Oh hey, it’s the big cuddling clip! Robbe and Sander goof off, pillow fight, smoke a joint, make out. Mostly make out. Sander shows Robbe a sketch of him (Robbe) and implies how good it would look on a wall (big). 

Robbe’s fave actor is Leonardo DiCaprio, because hasn’t Sander seen Romeo + Juliet? It’s fucking beautiful.

Man, on the one hand, sick Skam reference, and it’s just a simple, cute little nod to OG, not something complicated. I can dig that. But on the other hand, now I’m annoyed at how Isak got all of this beautiful development and watching R+J actually meant something for his character, and Robbe has absolutely nothing like that. Stuff like the fact it’s Robbe who likes R+J instead of Sander, WHICH IS FINE, but like … doesn’t say anything about Robbe’s view on masculinity or w/e, doesn’t do much for his characterization.

Sander takes pics of Robbe. Their chemistry is cute. Once again I despair at gifted actors being given subpar material leading up to this clip.

LMAO at them copying the dialogue from OG, Sander being all life is like a movie. Again, irrationally annoyed because this dialogue MEANT something to Even. Even was a huge film buff and an aspiring director. Sander hasn’t mentioned movies at all, he’s into art and David Bowie and photography. So why not have Sander quote some Bowie lyrics that explain his thoughts on life? Mention what art means to him? Personalize this dialogue so that it’s specific to Sander. Or, if you’re going to borrow this chunk of dialogue, at least establish Sander as a film enthusiast prior to this clip.

Also that Isak brought up the multiverse theory because he was smart and inquisitive, but I have no idea who the fuck Robbe is. Does this make sense with Robbe’s prior characterization? Shrug.

I do like the multiverse reference to Spider-Man because HELL YEAH Into the Spider-Verse!!! Fucking masterpiece! I could be watching that for the 20th time instead of the upcoming gay-bashing hate crime.

I do like Sander’s acting in this scene and his reaction, how the music (“Ocean Eyes”) stops when Sander starts talking about multiverse theory. His dialogue is a little different here than OG, about thinking about what he’s done and wondering why he thinks something, his thoughts never stop, which fits in with bipolar disorder.

Robbe notices he’s a little agitated, Sander says the only way to stop your thoughts is from dying. So I guess we’re putting in the suicidal thoughts in this version?

“Sometimes I forget how young you are.” Are they the same age in this version? Lmao. It’s a joke so it’s not a big deal.

Robbe starts kissing him and asks when Sander fell for him. Sander is like, before you! When Robbe was spraying the graffiti he knew Robbe was the one. Robbe is like … you were there??

I mean. this is cute and all, but doesn’t it kinda take away from later events, if Sander goes back to Britt, then like … knowing Sander has been Pining All Along should create way less doubt in Robbe’s mind? When Even went back to Sonja, there was room for actual doubt in Isak’s mind (and the audience’s) about the sincerity of Even’s feelings. I think people forgot that the “I saw you the first day of school” moment at the end of the season was a surprise. I was in the fandom and I don’t think a lot of people thought Even had fallen for Isak that early. So Robbe now knows that Sander fell for him well before they even talked, doesn’t that remove some of the tension about Sander’s motives? I suppose it depends on how the story goes from here, but if it’s similar to OG, then I think it slightly lessens the ambiguity and tension.

Also, another reason why it would have been good to actually see the graffiti scene play out in episode 1… and to see what Robbe tagged on the wall … come on. COME ONNNN. Let’s see what got Sander’s attention! Did Robbe create something funny or clever or insightful? Wouldn’t that have been a great detail to show their connection? This is basic storytelling, hello? 

I guess if I’m being fair, we don’t know exactly what Even saw in Isak that first day of school, either. But then again, we didn’t see the first day of school in a clip, while we definitely saw the graffiti scene. Just a missed opportunity, IMO.

They kiss and Sander gets a text from Britt. According to Sander, he told Britt about him and Robbe, but she doesn’t believe him, which is what I assumed of Sonja too, btw. At least, that’s what I thought at Emma’s party where she initiated the kiss with Even. Sander says Britt is so controlling. Robbe seems uncertain.

Sander says there’s probably another universe where Sander is still with Britt, but he’s glad to be in this universe. I do like this part.

Clip 11 - Milan schools Robbe on Pride

Robbe’s alarm goes off in the morning. He smiles a bit, though, presumably because he’s got Sander in his life. He gets a good morning text from Sander, which is cute and makes him smile more. Goes into the bathroom and Milan is there. Sander texts Robbe that he’s been thinking about him in all universes, Robbe is happy.

Milan is like, when can I meet your boyfriend??? Robbe says soon. Awww, this interaction is pretty sweet. Milan is like, welcome to the club! You know, “our” club meaning dudes who like dudes.

Robbe is like, just because I’m with Sander doesn’t mean I belong to some club, I’m not like you. Milan is like … and how am I? Robbe gives the usual Isak-ish response of dressing up and talking about BJs, Milan gets upset. Robbe says there’s nothing wrong with being gay but when people think of being gay, they think of that and it’s not fair to those who aren’t like that. Robbe’s not going to put on leather pants and dance at pride just because he likes Sander!

Milan gets very upset and goes into the Pride speech. I always appreciate this scene and I’m grateful that it’s one thing the remakes don’t really fuck with, since it’s so important (I think the remakes all recognize that it’s amazing, heh). 

Senne wanting to use the bathroom is kind of a jarring thing, they should’ve just let the moment sink in.

Robbe takes a Good Hard Look at himself in the mirror which is on the nose but like, better than nothing. I think there was a mirror earlier in the season? I confess that I’m so hung up on the basic writing fumbles that I might be missing stuff that’s actually supposed to be symbolic.

Anyway, all things considered, I think they did fine with this clip. Robbe coming out to Milan earlier in the episode did help pave the way for this talk since they didn’t have the close relationship as Isak and Eskild. Like, any issues I might have with it are related to the bigger issues in the season, but on its own, I felt like it was decent, and the “welcome to the club” comment is something I can believe Milan would say and something that would make Robbe reply with a boneheaded comment.

Clip 12 - This fucking scene

Robbe and Sander flirt in a bar and get touchy-feely with each other. For some baffling choice, we start with some rap/hip-hop song and then it cuts to “Two Men In Love” by The Irrepressibles … like … you could just start the clip with that song instead of this weird non-transition?

They kiss and then move outside the bar and then kiss and cuddle some more (again … I ask, where did Robbe’s boldness with gay PDA come from ...) Robbe jumps on Sander for a piggyback ride. They kiss passionately in the street.

Ahahahahahahahahah HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAA FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Some homophobes spot them and call them slurs. Robbe and Sander try to grab their bikes and quickly leave. The bigots manage to grab them and beat the shit out of them. It’s really brutal, like we get POV shots from the ground as the guys kick them. The guys call them f****ts once more before leaving Robbe and Sander crumpled on the ground in the fetal position. The wheels on the bike go round and round.

I mean … where do you even start.

OK, I’ll start here: worst decision made in a Skam S3 remake yet.

“Yeah, Skam season 3 was a masterpiece and all, but you know what I could have used more of? Violent gay-bashing,” said no one ever.

I don’t get triggered by media, not really, but boy am I glad I was spoiled for this. Because I do get fucking angry at media. And I’m angry now, but if I was watching this unspoiled? Man, I would’ve popped a couple of blood vessels. And I feel so, so sorry for people who watched this unprepared and were triggered. Because yeah, it is a remake and not 100% like the original, you can’t predict everything that will happen. But this isn’t something that you expect in S3, because you expect the writers to know enough to leave this shit out. This isn’t made with kind intentions for the audience, it’s made for shock value.

Consider that the WHOLE POINT of this very, very short clip is the hate crime, btw. It’s like two minutes long! They dropped a clip just for a cute kissing montage and then to interrupt it with a brutal beating! Something about that makes it even more repugnant than if it were like … a long involved scene about something else, and this happened. IDK, something about it feels even more tasteless, like this beating is their cinematic setpiece.

The first-person POV of the beating = not necessary. Like of ALL the fucking times in your season to actually give a shit about the importance of POV, lmao. This isn’t a video game. I’m not shooting zombies or getting jumped by bandits.

Remember when Skam faded to black on Noora’s blackout? And cut away from Even walking naked out of the hotel? Yeah, there are plot and POV reasons for those, but they were also ways to respect the audience and not include pointlessly triggering, exploitative material. 

There’s just so much to say about this bad choice that I’m at a loss. Why did we need to go here? In particular, why did we need to go here knowing how the rest of the season plays out? Because for me, that’s what clinches this as a terrible decision. This isn’t a shitty scene with a satisfying follow-up. The resolution - or non-resolution, as it turns out - of this plot development is what exposes wtFOCK’s true character.

There is an AMAZING Evak vid set to Two Men In Love and I recommend you watch it to get the bad taste out of your mouth from this scene.

HOW I WOULD REWRITE THIS EPISODE:

Sigh.

This is just textbook bad writing for coming out stories, not to mention packed full of tired cliches.

Closeted gay guy is violently homophobic (Robbe calls his love interest homophobic slurs and accuses him of being a pervert) - I’m sorry but I am so tired of the “dating your bully” trope and this is what it fell into for me. Why should Sander take back Robbe after that? After Sander told Robbe he was afraid no one would ever love him? 

Gay-bashing For The Drama, to make sure you know homophobia is bad, really bad.

Overemphasis on the heterosexual love interest (“love interest”) and how it’s hurtful to her, like I get that it’s a delicate topic with not demonizing her, but I always feel like there is SO much interest on straight characters in these stories! It’s not about them!

The hate crime has to go. Really. What is even the POINT of it in this particular story? As if there wasn’t enough angst in S3? Especially if you consider: they wasted a few episodes on repetitive nonsense. Their pacing is fucked up. And now you have to insert this monumentally offensive storyline and its fallout into a season already full of problems? Next.

Okay, I will offer ONE way to incorporate the hate crime, and that is simple: Make the rest of the season about the fallout. Similar to Noora’s season with her assault, dive deep into the trauma, spend a few episodes with Robbe and Sander recovering, telling their friends about it, going to the police about it. Cut back on other drama from S3. Don’t fuck around with Sander going back to Britt, unless you tie it in directly to him being afraid to date a guy after the hate crime. Don’t fuck around with Noor outing Robbe considering he has enough shit on his plate. If you want to bring her back, make her support him through the trauma. Honestly? Don’t fuck around with the hotel incident. Like I truly hate to lose Sander’s mental illness as a vital part of the season, but adding a full-blown manic episode on top of gay-bashing is way too much misery porn. I think you could probably show how the hate crime and resulting trauma affect Sander’s mental state without pushing it into full-blown wandering the streets naked while manic. 

Do I particularly like this plot? I mean, no, not compared to the original, and I feel like this is better off as its own thing rather than a S3 adaptation. But at the very least, I can see the attempt to take the hate crime seriously. You cannot just throw in this type of scenario to shake things up and leave it at that. This show is specifically made for teenagers, to take their struggles seriously and to give them positive examples of how to handle problems. If you prioritize the violent act itself because it’s dramatic and shocking, rather than the recovery (because that’s like, boring and uninteresting, amirite), then you’ve shown your ass. You don’t understand the purpose or the appeal of Skam in the first place.

Jumping ahead, I think this is exactly where wtFOCK exposes its true intentions. wtFOCK does not care about helping vulnerable teenagers find solutions to tough problems. wtFOCK does not care about healing or educating. wtFOCK is about shaking the audience so hard that viewers get whiplash. If wtFOCK gave a shit about helping the audience, the rest of the season would focus on Robbe and Sander dealing with the assault, giving them options to report it, showing them ways to cope with the trauma. Things that might help audience members who unfortunately also found themselves victims of hate crimes or homophobic violence. Those are not present in the rest of the season. It’s just a fucking soap opera. 

If you MUST have a homophobic incident to go with your dark ‘n’ edgy season, you can still limit it to some assholes yelling homophobic slurs without resorting to violence. That’s bad enough, and it did happen to Isak and Even later in the series. Even if you decide you MUST have a violent angle to this incident for whatever reason, I don’t fucking know why but OK, you don’t need to film it in this super exploitative manner where our heroes are getting viciously beaten on the ground. But there are so many ways to incorporate external homophobia without this shit.

Wouldn’t this dreadful scene make more sense at least if it had happened after the pool kiss? Like they go out a few days later, the hate crime happens, and then THAT’s why Robbe pushes away Sander and calls him names? Because now he’s afraid and he’s internalized what the bigots said? It’s tragic and gross, but at least there’s some character-driven logic in that sequence of events.

Another thing that really doesn’t work is that they’re straying so far from the original script, but at the same time they keep jamming in scenes from the original, except there isn’t the same buildup. Or any buildup, sometimes. This results in an incoherent mess of a season and of a POV character, where Robbe is part-Robbe, part-Isak.

I think all the remakes do this to a degree: there are certain beats they feel they must hit, and they hit them even though they’re off course. You need to commit either to doing a mostly faithful adaptation of the original, or to doing a remake with your own spin on the characters, but you need to be very, very careful not to just haplessly mix ‘n’ match the two. Does a scene from OG make sense within this remake universe? No? Then drop it, rewrite it, do what you need to do, just don’t carelessly recreate it if it doesn’t fit.

The way they’re writing Jens is bizarre because he seems to care enough about Robbe to ask him how he’s doing, but also not care enough to stick around and listen once the next shiny thing comes along. From the beginning they’ve set up the friendship tension with the boy squad as not just Robbe’s fault, but as a failure of his friends to pay attention as well. Like in the first episode Robbe is trying to talk to them and they just ditch him! They really need to make Jens more aware of how he himself has messed up with his friend, and not act like this is all Robbe’s doing.

We don’t need another Noor blue balls scene, thank you, bye. But if we keep this one, then we absolutely needed to see what exactly made Robbe stop in the act of sex with her, such as him flashing back to his kiss with Sander. Or even just letting us see him make the decision, because goddamn, what’s with wtFOCK not letting this young actor actually act out some of the meatiest material?

Overall, give Robbe more baby steps in his personal development, and not unbelievable leaps and changes in his behavior because the plot demands them.

I did try to think of a way to incorporate much of the same material from this week, including a hate crime, in a way that made more sense and was not ridiculously OTT or offensive. It’s hard because I really think you need to go back to the beginning of the season, but here’s what I came up with, borrowing some elements from the last episode as well.

Robbe wakes up the night after kissing Sander. He’s happy and glowing, he sees a cute text from Sander and smiles. Then he goes to the kitchen and Milan is there with a black eye or something, he’s talking to Zoë and Senne, maybe they’re tending to his injuries. Robbe asks what happened. Milan had a date last night and some homophobes started giving them a hard time, Milan wasn’t having it, punches were thrown. Milan is very shaken and upset. So is Robbe, who panics. Is this what he has to look forward to if he’s dating a gay? Will people harass him just for being out with his boyfriend? The implications of what it means to be a gay person in this world hit him really hard. He looks at Sander’s text again and ignores him and possibly blocks him. At some point we will establish that Robbe is also ignoring texts/calls from everyone else, too: Noor, Jens, his mom...

Sander shows up the next day outside Robbe’s place after Robbe has been ignoring him. He tries to talk to Robbe, but Robbe is freaked out and visibly nervous, his eyes darting around - he’s paranoid now about being seen with Sander, due to Milan’s incident. He’s worried about being a target for homophobic violence, understandably so. Sander doesn’t realize that Robbe’s frightened, however, and keeps talking and being nice. Robbe tries to play off the other night as just him being drunk, it was a mistake. When Sander physically gets too close to Robbe, Robbe yells that he’s not gay and runs inside, leaving Sander alone.

Robbe encounters Milan at home alone. Milan is still bruised from the homophobic incident. Milan is unusually subdued. Robbe says he’s sorry for what happened to Milan, it’s terrible. Robbe then sticks his foot in his mouth by saying something well-intentioned but hurtful and ignorant about how maybe Milan shouldn’t be so gay in public or w/e, since that will just attract homophobes, and that not all gay people act like Milan (meaning flamboyant, etc.) Milan gets really, really upset and snaps at Robbe about how gay people have been beaten and killed for just being who they are - basically a version of the Pride speech with a somewhat different context - and that it takes bravery and strength, Robbe doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. So that ends on a bad note for them.

Now trying to get out of the house since he’s fought with Milan, Robbe meets up with Jens, or maybe Jens finds him at the park or whatever. Jens comments on how it’s been a while since they’ve talked. Robbe says he was just worried about what the guys would say since he blew up at them previously. Jens is like, dude, we’re your friends. You have to talk to the people who care about you, you can’t just ghost them and avoid facing your problems. Robbe takes this advice to heart. Jens tells Robbe that he’s ready to listen when Robbe wants to talk.  Maybe Robbe sees something that reminds him of Sander, like graffiti on a building, and despite his fears, we can see that he really misses Sander, and that his feelings for Sander are stronger than his fears.

Next he meets up with Noor. She’s really upset that he’s been ignoring her. He apologizes and a version of the breakup scene goes down. When Robbe leaves, we see him walk away with a conflicted expression. Sorry that he’s hurt Noor, but understanding that this was the right call, and relief that he doesn’t have to pretend any more. 

Robbe sees Milan again and apologizes for what he said last time. Milan accepts his apology. Robbe admits that he’s been confused lately because he likes a guy and he doesn’t know what that makes him. Milan says something like that’s great Robbe likes a guy and that Robbe doesn’t need to label himself right now, he should just follow his heart. Maybe that liking boys is scary (Milan points to his black eye) and sometimes you need to be careful, but at the end of the day, Milan has to be himself and live his life honestly, and so does Robbe. After Milan leaves, Robbe takes out his phone and texts Sander saying he wants to talk.

Sander meets Robbe somewhere and Robbe apologizes for ignoring him, says he freaked out because that was the first time he kissed a guy, but now he’s made up his mind that he wants to be with Sander. They kiss and make up, yayyyyy.

This is by no means a perfect solution (like the thought of then going into the shit with Britt next episode on top of this makes my head hurt), this is just an attempt to include stuff like homophobic violence, Robbe’s ghosting Sander, scenes with Jens and Noor, etc. in a way that makes a little more linear sense to me and doesn’t feel as haphazard, and isn’t super triggering or exploitative. I think if you have a hate crime happening to Robbe himself, that really needs to be the main focus from here on out, for at least a few episodes; if you have something off-screen happening to another character, you can address the topic of violent homophobia without having it dominate the season or featuring triggering scenes. And hopefully it would still have some emotional impact, because we see how it affects Milan, and some clear consequences for character development, because we see how it affects Robbe, as the situation he may find himself in one day.

If I missed anything, cultural notes, translation nuances, let me know!

[seyaryminamoto]

Masterpost: answering a single anon in a single post

So. I wasn’t going to answer asks today but frankly, considering what I should be writing I’d rather answer asks, might actually get a laugh out of it. Most of all, because of what I intend to answer here.

To spare y’all from the pain and annoyance of having to read through any of my answers to we-know-who, I’m going to do it differently this time. All in one post. Because frankly, filling my blog with their TWENTY asks, no less (and it’s official this time, used to be sixteen but then I reblogged that post about conflict in stories and they went wild, as usual) isn’t worth anyone’s time. Hell, it’s not even worth mine, but procrastination is overpowering.

Here we go. If you’re not the anon in question and still want to read this, I hope you have fun.

This is a free world. That means multiple things some people can’t seem to accept. One such thing is that people have no obligation to even interact with each other, let alone to do what others demand of them, especially when they don’t want to. The fact is, being harassed (because, yes, there’s no other word for it) by someone has been a pretty irritating and stressful thing for me, to the point where it has impacted my ability to write...

And the harasser doesn’t give a single fuck about it and just keeps going :’)

With such introduction, I decide to engage my least favorite person in this site once again because clearly, ignoring them, blocking them, closing asks, deleting and rewriting reviews, is still not enough to get across the message that reiterating an opinion a million times doesn’t automatically make it more valid. So let’s see just what’s going on with this very much desperate person who apparently can’t stop seeking my attention:

First of all, I asked this person, point-blank, to address their asks, if they would continue sending them, to my main blog. Let’s see how that request turned out:

Oh my, astonishing! They sent it to Gladiator’s blog instead! And what a bigger shock: they’re, as usual, trying to control and direct what I write and how I write it. While sprinkling empty compliments that don’t mean a thing, such as claiming RESPECT for me and my work when every single ask they’ve sent is an outright disrespectful act against me, considering how many times I’ve requested, directly, that they stop this, and how many times they’ve ignored me. It even is extra poignant considering my request for them to send asks to my main blog instead, and yet they deliberately sent it to Gladiator’s blog. This is what RESPECT looks like, in this anon’s head. Fascinating stuff, isn’t it?

And then comes the mad onslaught that left me facedesking for days:

... I mean. Can someone please read this and tell me the person on the other side, with their vague condition, whatever it may be, has any idea what an apology even MEANS? 

For someone who’s so obsessed with alleged consistency, you’re damn bad at it yourself, Anon. You can’t send four asks in a row, to the WRONG BLOG, demanding for explanations you don’t even care to read, because every single time I’ve taken your whining seriously you’ve disregarded all my responses and gone right back to the same BS as before, and THEN pretend you’re here TO APOLOGIZE.

You don’t feel any remorse. To this day, you don’t even KNOW what you did wrong. This is NOT expressing yourself: THIS IS HARASSMENT. Need me to define the word for you to understand what it means, seeing as it’s becoming abundantly clear your reading and interpretation skills are not the greatest?

Definitions of harassment:

1. (n) the act of tormenting by continued persistent attacks and criticism 2. (n)  a feeling of intense annoyance caused by being tormented

I’ve said it before: PEOPLE HAVE HAD COMPLAINTS ABOUT THIS STORY, FAR MORE VALID THAN YOURS, AND I’VE NEVER REACTED THIS WAY. Care to guess why?

Because you NEVER stop. Because you keep going, constantly, never slowing down to think YOUR behavior is affecting a REAL LIFE HUMAN BEING. You’re obsessing over what happens in a fictional story that, by the way, is a fanfic, ergo, it obeys certain rules that general fiction does not. Among such rules is abiding by ORIGINAL characterization to a certain extent, and that means, hahaha, that Azula ISN’T an experienced character in any social or romantic situations because she ISN’T in canon, and there was no reason to change that, especially considering the worldbuilding I crafted, which makes it CRUCIAL for Azula to be careful with her virtue, despite she doesn’t want to be and realizes the whole notion of female virginal purity is absolute BULLSHIT.

But why am I explaining anything anyway? You won’t understand it, because you don’t want to. You claim, constantly, that you’re asking things OUT OF CURIOSITY, as if that makes ANYTHING better, when the truth is you’re just here to impose your cursed opinions on everyone else, especially me, and pretend you somehow own this fic and ship and your demands mean more than anyone else’s. Meanwhile, oh, I understand you PERFECTLY: you don’t want Sokka to ever have any experiences with any other women because you only believe in pure, untainted love of virgins who wait for each other and don’t ever make mistakes or are forced into unwanted situations. Because, again, you can’t understand that those sorts of things CAN happen. Because you don’t see there’s nuance to human beings, nuance I attempt to capture through my characters too.

I said it semi-jokingly, back in my past answers, now I say it directly: IF YOU CAN’T STOMACH THESE SITUATIONS AND CAN’T ACCEPT THEM, THIS STORY IS NOT FOR YOU.

An M-rated story doesn’t owe you any apologies for being what it is. An M-rated story, at the end of the day, is a STORY. You are a human being who should be capable of controlling not only your impulses but your reactions to things, at least to some degree, and yet you refuse to. You, in fact, continue to prove you CAN’T control yourself in the least because hey, just now, halfway through writing this post? I got THREE MORE ASKS by you. No less than three. And you finished them off, again, with a pretense that you’re going to stop pestering me...

... But hey. You said that at the end of the last ask I pasted up there. Hmm. And yet...

You came back, over and over and over again? :’)

RIGHT ON ALL ACCOUNTS! So... how do TWENTY ASKS, after claims that you’d finally stop, count as “regret”? You’re not changing at all, anon, because YOU DON’T WANT TO. You don’t, to this day, see what you did wrong. You don’t get it. And you won’t get it. So how about we just keep going with the next four?

Oh! But hey, you actually switched blogs this time. Super sweet of you to finally listen to ONE thing I said. Very nice.

I’ll just point out: I received the last NINE asks I’ve pasted here in a SINGLE DAY.

Nine. In one day.

I only ever got that many asks in a single go during review parties (admittedly, there were more than that, but still). The fact that you felt the need to send me NINE ASKS, to beg for forgiveness with a completely dishonest apology, is all the proof of harassment anyone could possibly ask for, right? If you weren’t an anon and at least had the GUTS to own up to your opinions, which you seem to consider absolutely sacred and completely correct, you’d have never gotten away with this. Ergo why you don’t have those guts, and why you keep sending anon reviews and asks too.

The fact that you’re so obsessed with this problem, to the point of believing Sokka’s best sex was with JUNE? We’ve literally finished an entire arc of Sokka and Azula banging across the Fire Nation with no restraint, with the two of them repeatedly remarking this is the best time they’ve ever had, and you’re so completely obsessed with this problem that you apparently think Sokka angrily fucking someone WHILE DECEIVING HIMSELF INTO THINKING IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE is... better? Are you FOR REAL? Are you seriously THAT BAD at reading?

Please, click here. I can’t even stand it anymore. It’s not even for my own sake but yours. You need it.

Also... you’re projecting so bad. Like, so bad. June’s teasing in that chapter is 100% intended to piss them off. The fact that she starts asking for Azula to lend her her “second boyfriend”, AKA Rui Shi, should tell you just how much stock June puts in what happened between her and Sokka: SHE DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN. She’s honestly more entertained by pissing off Azula as a consequence of it than over the sex she had with Sokka, especially considering she even lost her temper with him after he started apologizing in 28. You’re so completely beside yourself you can’t see ANYTHING clearly?

If you REALLY need it spelled out, no, Sokka wasn’t June’s best sex. June has probably done anyone and everyone she ever wanted to, and chances are she absolutely found someone, or several someones, who actually wanted HER, for HER, just as much as she may have wanted them. And that, you insecure mess of a human being, would absolutely make for a much better lay than what she got with Sokka. Why don’t I outright state this in the story, you’ll ask? Because despite what you may believe, this story ISN’T a love triangle between Azula, Sokka and June! Oh my, the horror! We’ve literally spent 198 chapters building up the story and developing Azula and Sokka’s relationship but the ONE TIME encounter with June apparently makes her that pivotal for your whole existence?

Dude, I literally don’t look at 28 AT ALL these days, because I don’t care to. Because even when I wrote it, it hurt me so bad having written it that I was crazy about getting to everything else so I could put it behind me. Whenever I reference it, I do the same way I reference ANYTHING ELSE. The only person who seems to think I’m doing it to further torture anyone IS YOU. 

And yes, did I just say it hurt me too? Oh, my, what a SHOCKER! The fact is, that scene is only as intense as it is because I literally couldn’t bring myself to write it. It wasn’t until it came to mind that Sokka COULD imagine Azula in June’s place that I finally found the way to do it: it wasn’t just Sokka imagining Azula instead, it was ME. Because if it had been anything else? I wouldn’t have been able to write it at all. I basically wrote it as hatesex Sokkla because I NEEDED to in order to write it. “THEN WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE IT?!?!?”, you’ll scream, I’m sure: BECAUSE I TREAT MY CHARACTERS AS HUMAN BEINGS WHO MAKE MISTAKES AND DO THINGS THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE. BECAUSE SOKKA WAS IN A DARK PLACE AND DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT AZULA WAS FEELING OR THINKING. BECAUSE AZULA WAS IMPULSIVE AND CONTROLLING AND COULDN’T REALIZE THAT THE MORE SHE TRIED TO FORCE SOKKA TO BEND TO HER WILL, THE MORE HE WOULD TRY TO BREAK FREE.

But all this is clearly too complex for you. Can’t even fathom understanding anything remotely close to characterization and conflict within relationships, no. You’re something else entirely.

And so, we move on to the post-apology Anon: you DO realize that forgiveness is something earned? I mean, it’s kinda funny because Sokka actually earned his own. He spent ages working for it, and even AFTER Azula told him he was forgiven, he still feels so bad about having hurt her that, to this day, he regrets it. Being FORGIVEN was not a condition for him to feel remorse. He regretted his actions because HE KNEW THEY WERE WRONG. Because he’s an actual, decent human being who, when faced with a catastrophic mistake, actually wants to amend it and wishes he had acted differently despite he can’t take anything back anymore.

But you? You can’t even begin to understand what regret means. I guess another dictionary definition would help?

Definitions of regret

1. (v) feel remorse for; feel sorry for; be contrite about

2. (v)  feel sad about the loss or absence of

3. (v)  express with regret

4. (v)  decline formally or politely

5. (n)  sadness associated with some wrong done or some disappointment

So, your attempts to beg for forgiveness fall completely flat. And I say it in plural, ATTEMPTS, because in case you think I’m daft and forgot your old reviews and asks, I didn’t: THIS ISN’T YOUR FIRST ATTEMPT TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS BULLSHIT. I thought I should clarify that, because heh, you have claimed you won’t come back, you have claimed you’re sorry, you have said many platitudes in the past that actually had no meaning... and I could tell they didn’t, which is why I never answered them. Because there was no way someone who had exhibited such obsessive behavior would actually control themselves and get over their issues after MONTHS of persistent harassment.

And so, you didn’t disappoint, because I had zero expectations that you’d actually abide by your apologies. Empty apologies, again, because to this moment you don’t even know what you did wrong. You don’t get it. To put it in the way I did for someone else who talked to me about this mess:

You could be complaining to me about something else entirely. You could be here, demanding that I explain why I’ve been writing Sokka killing people, for instance. You could be disregarding all sense, reason, historical precedents and what-have-you as to why a warmongering, canonically genocidal nation like the Fire Nation would ever have a system like the Gladiator League and enslave other cultures to do their bidding. 

And if you came back with those complaints PERSISTENTLY, FOR A YEAR, I’D BE JUST AS ANGRY AS I AM NOW.

It’s NOT about the situation you’re throwing a fit over. It’s NOT about me having it out for you. It’s about YOU not knowing limits or boundaries, going as far as you constantly, consistently have, ever seeking to twist my story into whatever warped, fucked up perception you’ve developed over it, without ever slowing down to think that your actions and your behavior are affecting someone else. I’m not just a rambling robot who can’t seem to stop talking or writing or whatever you may think I am: I’m an actual person with a FUCKLOAD of problems, who literally just had the WORST year of her life, and you just decided to continue adding to the pile, never slowing down to consider that your feelings, and your opinions, and your pain, does NOT invalidate other people’s, let alone does it make you EXEMPT of hurting others. Which, heh, if you knew how to read, you could’ve even LEARNED this from Gladiator! :’D 

Because Azula, so hurt as she was, took to hurting Sokka too, in many, many ways. And Sokka, once he understood how wrongly he had judged Azula, simply let her hurt him because he thought he deserved everything she threw at him. Later on? Azula realizes all the pain she caused Sokka COULD have led him to choose the White Lotus over her. She’s in a life-or-death situation, unable to fight back, and the ONLY reason she doesn’t get screwed over and captured by the enemy is because Sokka decides she matters more to him than joining forces with sketchy people who are out for revenge. But what if she’d hurt him more than she had? What if she’d done WORSE than she did? Maybe he would’ve been so hurt too that, at this point, he would’ve chosen the White Lotus and not only abandoned her but handed her over to her nation’s enemies! :’) oh, the horror. Is it really that unthinkable? Why, it’s not to me. And why not? Because if Azula had been as unforgiving and unyielding as you are, if she had been so obsessive over whatever caused her pain and refused to move on... this story would SUCK. BADLY.

Makes you wonder what that says about your mentality, doesn’t it?

Alas, after all this digression as to why your behavior is absolutely appalling to me, let’s see what you did indeed, right after your absolutely shallow apology that was obviously not sincere, because you don’t regret having bothered me at all, you just regret that I won’t abide by your whining...

Is THIS what an apologetic, remorseful person looks like? Really, now? Honestly, if Sokka were half as bad as you are, he would’ve slept with half the Fire Nation by now while constantly coming back to Azula like “Oh woops did it again, sorry!”

Yes, I can honestly make the link pretty easily. Must be why you keep assuming he’ll ever be with someone else, because if you were in his place, you would do exactly that :’) beautiful how things just come full circle, isn’t it?

That ask came as a response to another, potentially ill-intended one, potentially sent by you too. An ask I answered with a whole list of unique things Sokka has done for Azula. Not only did you NOT understand the list’s purpose despite you may have even been the one to ask for it... but you took a line directly referencing OBVIOUS events like chapters 64, 69 and 93, moments in which Azula either put a stop to opportunities where she and Sokka might have ended up going too far, and he accepted it without complaint... or Sokka himself put a stop to them, KNOWING that Azula would be taking a huge risk if she gave herself to him completely as she does from 97 onwards. That you literally took something that was SO VERY OBVIOUS, and twisted it into chapter 28 again speaks LENGTHS of how absolutely messed up your perception and interpretation of this whole story is. You have issues. Serious issues. And I’m not saying this just to be an ass, I’m saying it because it’s clear as day that if you CAN’T stop linking absolutely everything I say or do to chapter 28, whether it’s being referenced or not (and in this case, it was NOT), the problem isn’t me, IT’S YOU.

And here we go again. You are actually trying to POLICE the Sokkla fandom at this point? An ANON? And hey, you returned to the Gladiator blog! Which means you were so pissed that I didn’t answer your previous asks and your phony apology because I KNEW you’d come back that even your teeny, tiny behavioral correction was pulled back because you were MAD. And you HAD TO MAKE YOUR OPINIONS KNOWN, AGAIN.

Do tell, are you the same ass who harassed a pretty new friend I’ve made in this fandom? An honestly solid writer who happens to feature Sokka having other, prior relationships to Azula because, haha, if you work with CANON settings, that’s basically guaranteed since Sokka already has canon relationships before even knowing Azula exists? And then, even if in those experiences Sokka ends up going “... I bet it’d be better with Azula”, you STILL take this as a slight and you consider it a reason to go around harassing writers and potentially even THREATENING to report their content because you’re mad that Sokka isn’t exclusively Azula’s in every single story you pick up?

The worst part is, I actually wrote at least 2 stories in my Saturdays’ oneshots where Azula and Sokka are each other’s first everything, absolutely so. And I got nothing from you for it, not even a teeny tiny “HEY THANK YOU YOU FINALLY WROTE WHAT I WANTED TO SEE!”. No, you only come out of your hole to ATTACK writers. To tell us what to do when you think we’re not doing it right. As if you had the SLIGHTEST right to tell ANYONE what to do.

I literally have been here for EIGHT YEARS. I’ve been creating content for this ship for that long, when nobody else was anymore. I won’t take credit for the ship’s rise in popularity, despite yes, it’s far from a major ship no matter how far we’ve come... but my story didn’t reach the heights it has out of sheer dumb luck. I worked my ass off with Gladiator in every way I could to make it a story of the scope and depth it deserved to be, and the fact that people who didn’t even ship Sokkla were interested in reading the story all the same has always been something I take pride on. A ton of multishippers read this story, and support Sokkla too: neither you nor ANYONE has any right to demand or claim or pretend that someone else has no right to be part of this fandom or to set guidelines as to what their content should be. There’s LITERAL stories out there of Sokka having a goddamn HAREM, just so you know, with Azula included amongst the women involved in it... and you’re here, throwing a fit over people featuring Sokka having one-time encounters and brief relationships with other girls before committing completely to Azula.

I’ve been here, working my ass off for Sokkla, not only in writing but literally developing my art skills to the best of my ability so I could ONE DAY create the visuals and images these two evoked for me... 

And yet I don’t feel I have any right to tell ANYONE how to make their content. 

If there was a set number of words in fics or artworks someone needed to make for a ship to prove themselves worthy of obtaining the skill of GATEKEEPING, I am 100% positive I have more than outdone that limit.

And yet I DON’T play gatekeeper. I NEVER have, and I NEVER will. People can create whatever they want to create, whether I enjoy it or not is up to me, and if I DON’T enjoy it, I DON’T read it. If there’s Sokkla content out there I can’t even STOMACH? I would ignore it and move on with my life. You? You make it your whole life’s crusade to attack people over anything that tickles you wrong. That’s how it works, isn’t it?

Unless you’re planning on pulling a Scooby-Doo-esque twist where you remove your mask and reveal you were a known Sokkla fan and content creator all along, which I find ABSOLUTELY unlikely, then this means you haven’t done anything, ANYTHING, for this fandom beyond sending anonymous harassment to people who are actually taking time out of their lives to create content for this ship. The main reaction I’ve seen at you from ANY of us, whether anons like yourself or actual content creators like myself, is that you have too much time on your hands and need a better hobby. And I agree, completely.

So, where people like me and my fellow Sokkla creators are actually making content that convinces people, if not to ship it, to at least CONSIDER this ship a possibility... you’re out there, in hiding, pretending you have any right to tell us what to do and going ignored on most accounts. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if I had any respect for someone, and they either stopped responding to me or started responding by telling me to leave them alone, I’d feel like such stain of garbage I’d never even try to interact with them again. While people absolutely can be different and react differently to things... I can’t see how, exactly, you have any respect for me when knowing you’re a problem for me has never stopped you and most likely never will.

I’ll admit, this one actually made me laugh. Like... you’re seriously trying to tell me that a sex scene was way too good and that’s why I have to change it. I actually disagree on every account, because the last time I revisited 28 I thought the scene was absolutely distant from my best work? I’ve written soooo much smut recently and literally any of those scenes kicks 28 out of any “best smut” contest by MILES. But... heh. This one, apparently, was too good.

I mean... thank you? For telling me that my smut skills are apparently that great they need to be toned down? Fascinating, really.

But again, “it sadly seems to be a too late to write chapter 28″. Sadly?

SADLY?

You can stick your sadness up where the sun doesn’t shine, dude: 

SOMEONE WHO THREW SUCH A FIT OVER THEIR REVIEWS BEING REWRITTEN SHOULD

NEVER

TELL SOMEONE ELSE THAT IT’S TOO BAD THEY CAN’T REWRITE ANY OF THEIR CONTENT.

EVER

You can’t pretend, again, that you were EVER sorry for ANY of what you did... while still trying to tell someone they should rewrite their content. Honest to gods, you’re an asshole. You are. And if you think I’m one too, great, I own up to it gladly. But you’re the one willingly intoxicating their brain with my content, only to consistently go MAD over it, and then unleash this kind of illogical nonsense right back at me. I know art can generate a myriad of responses, but I am NOT responsible for your immaturity and inability to handle serious subjects and topics that SHOULD MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. If you don’t KNOW how to deal with the fact that there’s a lot of questionable, dislikeable things in this world, then my damn story is the least of your concerns because you’re well on your way to leading a VERY miserable life, Anon. Better get ready for it, will you?

And again, the Gladiator blog. Again, pretending to be well-mannered, and also, again, using the world “sadly”, same as the ask above. Like... man, what on earth is wrong with you. Are you seriously this masochistic? Do you also drink arsenic for sport? What on EARTH brings you the belief that asking how far or how much was done between Sokka and his previous one-night-stands would help you IN ANY WAY, WHATSOEVER? 

I think I’ll answer that question, for once, with actual quotes, taken right from some of your favorite chapters, no less:

"When you and Ruon Jian got married, was he…?" she asked. Mai only raised a confused eyebrow, and Azula had the distinct feeling that Mai knew what she was talking about, but would force her to blurt it out anyways. She sighed: "A virgin."

Ty Lee's hands flew to her mouth as Mai raised her eyebrows. To Azula's astonishment, she merely shrugged.

"I don't know. I never asked," she said. Azula snorted.

"Then you're smarter than me. By far," she grunted. Mai smirked.

And as things digress there into Azula explaining what happened, let’s skip that and go straight to Mai’s direct answer:

"I've never asked Ruon Jian about whether or not he had anything serious with other girls before me because I seriously don't care," said Mai. "If I knew about it, I'd probably have a bout of jealousy like yours, I suppose… but it's in his past, and he left them behind to make me his present and his future. So, whatever he might have experienced before, with however many women there were, isn't something I'm overly concerned about."

"You're awfully mature compared to me if that's the case," said Azula, slipping her fingers through her hair again. Mai smirked.

"You've been complimenting me quite a lot today, Azula, that's not like you…"

"Shut up," Azula grunted. Mai chuckled.

:’) 

This is the only answer this ask warrants. The fact that you’re so immature and so obsessed as to want to know more about what happened with something you HATE is completely cringeworthy and absurd. If you want to get angry imagining Sokka having wild sex with every woman who crosses his path, go ahead and do it, but do us both a favor and torture yourself, and yourself alone, with those thoughts rather than coming back TWENTY TIMES to my inbox looking for MORE reasons to get angry. You’re honestly unbelievable.

You know, that reading comprehension site I linked up there? Courses, 20% off! Seriously, perfect fit for you. You need it, direly.

Like... how can someone read a story built on the premise of Azula literally defeating Sokka painfully in battle to the point he’s left unable to move, taking Sokka away from home, turning him into a slave, being objectively responsible for the WORST TWO YEARS OF HIS LIFE... and then come to my inbox asking if Azula will ever hurt Sokka?

Dude, you’re off the deep end. You can’t even pretend you have a grasp on reality if you SERIOUSLY THINK Azula has NEVER hurt Sokka. Like, seriously, it feels like you’re reading this truncated version of Gladiator that’s only chapters 28, 111, 112 and perhaps 123? Is that what’s going on?

I’ve had Sokka and Azula arguing over ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, whether for humorous or for serious purposes, since the very beginning of the story. Their first serious falling out is LITERALLY caused by the direct conflict of their worldviews clashing in chapter 12. Their second falling out was indeed caused by women: by Azula’s discovery that Sokka didn’t want to fight women, which of course, doesn’t bother you in the least because you and I both know that’s NOT what your problem was.

I could literally run through the whole story listing every single argument they’ve had, every single time they’ve hurt each other if that’s what you want: their first time? It literally comes from a very serious argument where Sokka believed he had reached the pinnacle of his potential as a fighter and feared Azula would need someone else to achieve her goals instead of him.

AND YOU’RE SERIOUSLY HERE ASKING IF THEY’LL EVER ARGUE OVER ANYTHING ELSE.

You don’t read this story. This ask absolutely proved it to me. You only read chapter 28 and everything potentially connected to Sokka having anything with other women. You don’t CARE about anything else, simply. Because if anything actually had ANY impact on you? You’d say something about it. But the only thing that touches your weird heart is Sokka sleeping with anyone else or having any potentially romantic interactions with someone else, whether he rejects them or not. 

You don’t care about Gladiator. You only care about your ego, and the validation of your worldview and puritanic morals.

And to that I say, fuck that noise. I write whatever the hell I want to write, and you’re not going to rope me into playing it safe just to please insecure harassers who don’t know boundaries and are completely incapable of empathizing with anyone while demanding everyone should understand their feelings.

Final note on this matter: you, also, have no idea what love is. You plain and simple don’t understand it. You’re even more confused by what love should be than Azula was at the start of this story. You don’t get it, AT ALL.

All you want is for them to get even on things? You literally asked me, when I was in my angry spree of deleting your bullshit, to make Azula and her future husband have happy consensual quality sex with who knows how many orgasms... because it was only fair!

AGAIN: YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND LOVE IN THE LEAST.

If you think love is about getting even, you’re seriously an asshole. If you think love is about both people being 100% equal in social regards and experiences, you don’t even UNDERSTAND human relations. Do you live in a bubble, by any chance? Maybe you do! You must have zero contact with anyone other than people with your same puritanic beliefs, right? So that means you assume everyone who’s different from you is fundamentally a bad person? I take it?

Like... literally at this point I think you’d hear about someone who was abused in their childhood, molested, and your reaction would simply be “Oh wow I hope someone molests whoever they end up marrying too, so that way they may be even in the future and been molested by the exact same number of people, otherwise it’s not really love”.

This is fucking sick. I’m not holding back at this point, it’s SICK. It’s TWISTED. It’s VILE. Your mentality is absolutely repulsive to me. You don’t know what love is, and you have the most literal, obvious change to understand it better by reading this story properly, but instead you just read chapter 28 over and over and over again, isn’t that right?

And here’s the evidence of that. You really want me to answer that last question?

No, it doesn’t bug me to read that AT ALL. Because unlike you? I don’t obsessively reread 28 while disregarding everything else in the story. Unlike you, I don’t revisit the chapter every day to pick apart every line to look for reasons to get extra angry at those developments.

Most of us, when faced with things we DON’T like in fiction? We move past it. You, instead, dig yourself into a hole and continue digging, and then pretend to hold other people responsible for whatever impact this may be having on your psyche. Because yes, you’re holding me responsible for whatever trauma or insecurity this is awakening inside you when you continue to pester me as you have: if you’re an adult, you should have the tools and brains to determine what is and what isn’t acceptable behavior, as well as to curate your own experiences with media, with fandom, with EVERYTHING to do with these communities. If you choose to look for things to hate instead of things to love, THAT’S ON YOU.

And if you’re allegedly looking for things to love but can’t find ANY that suit your purposes (which... is bullshit. Clearly, your only priority is “Sokka must be a virgin who never had anything with anyone else”, and such stories DO exist, which I guarantee considering I’ve written at least THREE of them, where it’s absolutely stated that Sokka’s first and only one is Azula)...

Well, it’s funny. Because when I got here? I was looking for some very specific fics so I could explore whether or not Sokkla made any sense. And I didn’t find them.

Which resulted...

... In me writing the very stories I wanted to see.

Oh, my. Imagine taking your impulses and channeling them into something productive rather than looking for reasons to get angry 24/7! Must be such a NOVEL CONCEPT for you!

Seriously, you have no right to dictate what anyone does. Again, worth bringing up because you INSIST on the rewriting matter. Even if you’re claiming you’re done asking for it, you somehow KEEP bringing it up. And then you act like me mentioning 28′s events here or there in the story is absolutely outrageous... but you just go right on ahead and do the same thing yourself, don’t you? Funny how much of a hypocrite you really are, isn’t it?

The fact that you’re bringing up something I have NEVER written, and have NO INTENTIONS of ever writing, as some sort of stupid, ridiculous argument to be made AGAINST the post I literally reblogged TODAY... is just absurd beyond belief.

The fact that I ever even wrote Sokka cheating on Suki with Azula, which I DID, still bothers me. Because yes, it made for a good story, but the truth is, it doesn’t sit well with me. It worked in The Reason, worked in my collab story with a friend, but it doesn’t mean I feel 100% happy with that choice. Even if the cheating only amounted to a kiss in The Reason, and then a lot worse than just that in the other story, it’s still not cool! :’) I know this!

... And yet no one, NO ONE, has ever caught me writing Sokka cheating on Azula. In fact, when my collab story with my friend seemed to start moving towards that angle I BEGGED her not to do it, and then she didn’t, and my heart was deeply relieved and blissful for it. Because not only did it mean we wouldn’t have to deal with the very controversial and unsettling notion of someone in a good relationship cheating on their significant other... but because in that story, it also showed how much he had grown, and how he was truly devoted to Azula despite he hadn’t been to Suki.

But alas, I have my qualms with that concept, of course I do. And I don’t like it. Ergo, I’ll never write it.

Which begs the question as to WHY, exactly, you’re so obsessed with the notion of Sokka cheating on Azula? Like... do you get off on it? Are you wanking at the idea of Sokka and June every single night and then wake up feeling like crap and then take it out on me, by any chance? Is that what’s going on? Because I’m seriously starting to believe it is.

You clearly don’t understand anything about storytelling, which is probably why you don’t have the guts to create your own content in the first place. But the fact that I reblog a post about how conflict in a story is GOOD, and your first thought is “THEN THAT MEANS YOU APPROVE OF SOKKA CHEATING!” actually says A LOT MORE about you than it says about me. You need help. Clearly, the therapy site I was sending you to the last time wasn’t much good, was it? I guess you just ignored it in the end. Hopefully the reading comprehension one will suit you better, right?

Fuck you, seriously, for coming to someone who has been working this hard for this long, for a ship that they’re completely devoted to, to spout this kind of senseless shit. To think you seriously ever believed I’d accept your half-assed apologies when you’ve been doing this sort of bullshit for this long... you’re a piece of work. If you have the time to write that BULLSHIT into my inbox, at the very least use that time to look INWARD and ponder just what your damn problem is, resolve it on your own, AND LEAVE ME THE HELL OUT OF IT. Someone as immature and unstable as you has no business reading M-rated fiction, and I honestly rue the day you ever clicked my story. Both your life and mine would be countless times better if you simply had scrolled past it.

And on and on we went today. The THREE MORE ASKS that arrived as I was typing this insanely long response. Which resulted in you bumping the total, successfully, to 20. MIGHTY NICE OF YOU TO PROVE ME RIGHT! :’)

Now then, getting serious here... I must say your priorities are fucked. Like. Really fucked.

You’d rather Sokka tries to KILL AZULA than have a one-time sexual encounter with someone?

Like... you’re here, condoning VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN to that extent...? :’D and then you... you actually have the balls to whine because apparently him  hurting her feelings is WORSE?!

Are you EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF???

You know, I think I have to offer you some REALLY good advice right now: go watch Naruto. Seriously, all of it. Go watch it, and enjoy your sweet loins’ release once Sasuke and Sakura start trying to kill each other, ONLY TO END UP TOGETHER AT THE END! :’) They were both 100% faithful to each other too, in the sense of Sakura getting depicted as a girl who can’t ever get over the guy she had a crush on when she was 6, no matter if he tries to kill her or her friends once he starts to go off the deep end, and Sasuke getting depicted as a guy who treats everyone like garbage, even the people he loves, because his manpain story somehow validates him being absolutely toxic to everyone he knows, so that’s absolutely up your alley! 100% the love story you’ve been looking for! You’re gonna LOVE IT.

Man, I just can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you. You’re seriously asking me to feature Sokka trying to kill Azula because that’s more acceptable to you. There was a story out there, you know? With Azula basically using Sokka to commit suicide, impaling herself on his sword and dying? You should just go look for that too, perfect fit for you (though it may be gone from the depths of this wretched site by now, which tbh I’d be grateful for, since it was the most unsettling, disturbing read).

Also? Thank you, truly, for all  the remarkably shallow compliments you’ve thrown at me to “soften” your “criticism” (which, again, is whining, not legitimate criticism). Calling me a capable writer is super NICE of you, especially after all these months of persistent harassment and constant repetition that I should rewrite whatever you don’t like. I mean... that’s definitely the way someone treats a capable writer, isn’t that right? 

“The problem isn’t conflict it’s what the conflict is”, the anon says. I’ve been writing a story for 8 years, 198 chapters and counting... and I’ve had a ton of different types of conflicts for Sokka and Azula to deal with. If your problem is “I don’t like this conflict”, FINE. But... hey. There have been THOUSANDS of other sources of conflict across the story, so many I don’t think I can even promise I’d ever take my time to count them all... there’s whole ARCS with conflicts regarding world politics and the war’s consequences and both Azula and Sokka completely changing their worldviews as they realize their realities are soooo much more complicated than they ever knew...!

Ergo. There ARE other conflicts. There are SO MANY of them that there’s no point in even listing it all out.

And yet you are obsessed with the one conflict you didn’t like, outright acting like THIS IS THE ONLY CONFLICT THERE EVER WAS, as proven by that preposterous and mindless “when will Azula ever hurt Sokka” ask. The one development you were pissed at, because it tickled your loins the wrong way. Oh yes, I’m a capable writer, I could’ve done things differently...!

BUT I DIDN’T!

And aren’t you thrilled that I didn’t? You would be a complete nobody in this fandom if this hadn’t happened, because otherwise what would you POSSIBLY have to complain about?! To harass someone about?! You’d be SO BORED! You’d be so unknown, nobody would even be aware of your existence...!

Though.

Wait.

You’re an anon.

You’re unreachable and nobody really knows who you are.

... So never mind, you actually still are a complete nobody in this fandom and your only attempt to even take part in it is to be a negative, irritating presence that literally makes people facepalm, laugh and ridicule you to the extent I and many others have laughed at you.

And yes, that post I reblogged was 100% worth reblogging. Why? Because it hits the nail on the head:

I DIDN’T WRITE 28 SO YOU’D BE HAPPY WITH SOKKA.

I DIDN’T WRITE THAT CHAPTER TO MAKE PEOPLE THINK “OH WOW WHAT A WHOLESOME SITUATION”.

I WROTE IT BECAUSE IT WAS MEANT TO DETONATE CONFLICT AND SPEED UP CHARACTER GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT, WHICH IT DID.

And the thing is? Maybe, in the future, I’ll write other stories, just as I wrote the Saturdays’ stories, and Sokka won’t have either meaningful or worth mentioning encounters with anyone else in them. Maybe I’ll write original fiction, and there won’t be any twists like what happened in 28! 

But you will never get over this.

You will never care about any other content beyond this.

And that’s your failing, not mine.

If you would rather obsess over what makes you angry, that’s on YOU. But I’m damn sure I wrote a pretty reasonable conflict, character-wise, that was not only consistent with characterization but with the slightly darker take of the Avatarverse I’ve been working with. Not only that, but I NEVER skipped the consequences of their actions. I literally had them facing those consequences for whole arcs. Sokka assumed he’d never have a chance to be with Azula and made his peace with it, WITHOUT EVER PRETENDING HIS DEVELOPING FEELINGS FOR AZULA WERE ANYTHING THAT ENTITLED HIM TO HER LOVE IN RETURN. But oh, that’s too complex for you to understand, isn’t it? The fact that Sokka actually loves Azula for her, and not for himself, that he devotes himself to her in every imaginable way, that he fights people who dare disrespect her, that he would stop at NOTHING, even coming close to killing someone, to keep her safe despite he’s completely against killing people? That all means NOTHING to you.

And again? THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM. THAT’S YOUR FAILING. THAT YOU’RE SO OBSESSED WITH 28 AND CAN’T MOVE PAST IT IS NOT MY FAULT, IT’S YOURS.

Because I damn right moved past it. I’ve moved so far past it I literally don’t ever THINK about that damn situation until your stupid asks start arriving. Heck, maybe if you didn’t ASK so much about it, I’d stop bringing it up in recent chapters of the story :’) how do you feel about that particular kernel of unexpected information? Maybe you’re impacting the story in a whole shocking manner by inception-ing 28 into my head all the time and that’s why I can’t seem to stop throwing in lines referencing it for you to go completely BONKERS over. How about that? :’)

Say... how exactly do you think this fic is special? Literally all I know is you think I’m a capable writer who can create something perfectly catered for you, and yet ALL the feedback I’ve ever gotten from you is “REWRITE 28 AND EVERYTHING ABOUT SOKKA HAVING ANYTHING WITH OTHER GIRLS I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THIS I’M GENUINELY CURIOUS THIS IS LEGITIMATE CRITICISM SIGNING OFF BYE”. Your compliments are completely devoid of meaning because they’re literally just a handful of “you’re a good writer” and you don’t even say WHY you think I’m good. You don’t ever come here to tell me how much you enjoyed a certain scene, or how happy you are with a certain development... No.

Because when Sokka and Azula got married? What did I get?

“HOW CAN YOU LET SOKKA AND AZULA GET MARRIED NOW WHEN HE SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE IN CHAPTER 28?!”

I wish I had screenshots for those, but you and I both know the truth, you irksome anon, and the truth is you did exactly that. And with every new development in Shu Jing, I got yet more reviews and ask(s), persistently whining about how UNFAIR it is that now Azula apparently is locked in marriage with this unfaithful man who has been unfaithful to her a grand total number of ZERO TIMES ever since their relationship began! How DARES he even think about marrying her?! Scourge of earth, let’s murder him in cold blood because DEATH IS BETTER THAN CHEATING!!!

If you think highly of Gladiator for ANY REASON, you’ve kept those reasons well and safely tucked away in the depths of your broken heart or shared them with anyone but me. Look at all these asks, damn you, and tell me at what point in time did you convey ANYTHING beyond “why don’t you write what I want you to write?”, huh? Because hell, I don’t see it in any of them. Literally nowhere. No backwards (: emojis are compliments or evidence of how much this story allegedly means to you. All I know is that you hate 28 and everything about it.

And you see...

I don’t give a flying fuck. 

I don’t.

You can hate 28 all you want.

You can hate June.

You can hate Sokka.

It is, INDEED, a free world.

But you have no right, NONE WHATSOEVER, to commit to this level of harassment as you have, for A WHOLE YEAR, and pretend the problem is that I, Seyary, the “evil super-sensitive author who writes Sokka sleeping with other people and doesn’t even break a sweat but then crumbles to pieces when “negative” feedback arrives”, can’t handle your comments properly.

I’ve said it before, damn you: NO ONE NEEDS TO REITERATE THEIR OPINIONS A MILLION TIMES. NO ONE. NOT YOU, NOT THE PEOPLE DEMANDING FOR THE PLOT TO KICK INTO HIGH GEAR, NOT THE ONES WHO THINK THIS SHIP IS GARBAGE, NOT ANYONE.

NO ONE HAS ANY RIGHT OR REASON TO COME BACK PERSISTENTLY THORUGHOUT A YEAR TO HARASS SOMEONE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES THEY’RE TOLD TO STOP IT.

Point being: HATE WHAT YOU WILL! But keep it the fuck off my blog. And if you CAN’T? Get used to these responses. Because you’re going to get them, constantly. I guarantee it.

I know your damn opinion already. I know it by heart and I damn wish I didn’t. You are perfectly free to go read all the other stories where I’ve had Sokka staying faithful to Azula, with Azula being his first, or with Azula being much more experienced and sleeping around while Sokka stays mostly chaste... but you don’t. You come back, every time, to my miserable inbox that must cry every time you show up in it, to make these demands and pretend you have any power over what I should be writing.

Again, no, I have no idea why this story matters to you at all. And at this point? I’d rather NOT know. Because I’m 100% sure the only thing that matters most to you is chapter 28. So you know, go ahead, wank to it again and cry yourself to sleep. It’s kind of fascinating to have written something that has such a visceral emotional impact on a complete and total stranger. Makes it clear I’ve made a lot of progress as a writer if I can fuck up someone’s life to this extent with what I’ve written.

Yeah. Sure. You really think I’ll buy it? You really think this is goodbye? Oh, no, Anon. You can’t stay away. You’ve been told to, you’ve been asked to, but you can’t.

So no, I’m not wishing you good luck back. And I’m certainly not wishing you any fun with my fic, because it’s more than clear that the only source of entertainment it provided you was chapter 28, seeing as it’s the only impactful thing I apparently ever wrote. And someone who’s that obsessed with one of the chapters I most disliked writing despite I knew the plot would benefit from it in the long run simply can’t deserve to have fun. So... good suffering over Gladiator, if anything? Go ahead and continue to wrack your brain while trying to unravel why, oh, why would ANYONE ever write what I wrote and still call themselves a Sokkla shipper?! 

I dunno, maybe go on and write something similar yourself. Could be you’ll finally figure out what your problem is if you take to writing the cheating storylines you’re so very much obsessed with. Only, heh, I can guarantee I’m not touching anything you write, out of principle more than anything. I plain and simple don’t want anything to do with you... but as I don’t intend to close my inbox again, it seems I have no choice, do I?

Good fucking luck sticking to this alleged goodbye... but we both know you’ll be coming back very soon, won’t you? No worries, Anon, I’ll be waiting this time. Let’s see if you can break your 20-ask-streak record next time, shall we? :’)

It’s December 13th, at 2:32 PM, in my location. Let’s see how long it takes you to come back, shall we?

EDIT: I neglected to check constantly so it definitely arrived earlier than this, but officially received a response at least 2 hours after this post went live.

Didn’t I call it? Yep, absolutely called it.