#not ''everyone'' is enjoying their company
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drunken confessions
Theodore Nott x FemRavenclaw!Reader
Summary: Theo drinks a little bit more than he should....
Warnings: Drinking, No use of Y/N, Only mentions being in Ravenclaw once, and very cute???
Word Count: 1.6K
Note: Long time no see, my loves! I took a really long hiatus abruptly because life was kicking my ass badly. I decided that my first fic back should be a Theo fluff because who would I be if I didn't give this boy all of my attention? I hope you guys all enjoy it.
Banners by @cafekitsune
Music boomed through the Slytherin common room as you tried to navigate the sweaty bodies and screaming teens. You were trying to find Theodore, the person who had invited you. It was a celebratory party for Slytherin winning the quidditch game against Hufflepuff. You were in the Ravenclaw house but are good friends with many people in Slytherin.
"Oy," Draco pulled you to the side, "Looking for Theo?"
"Yeah, you've seen him?" you asked, gripping his arm so no one could separate you both. Draco nodded, pulling you to a separate room where Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo sat.
"Finally, you're here." Daphne pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, "Drunk pants over there have been asking about you for the past hour."
You glanced over at Theo, who was very drunk. "He never drinks this much." You whispered back to Daphne. She shrugged. "He caught the stitch. Winner of the game tonight."
You nodded, walking over to Theo and sitting next to him. He immediately grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I've been waiting for you all night," Theo said, speaking slowly so his words didn't get slurred.
"I'm sorry. Why'd you drink so much without me?" You asked, tapping softly on his wrist. "I didn't mean to." Theo said, "Won the game, so people had given me a bunch of drinks."
You nodded, allowing Theo to go back to being the life of the party. Enzo sat down next to you, to keep you company as the party continued.
"So, what's your excuse for not being at the game tonight?" Enzo asked.
"That project for Transfiguration. My partner is an idiot who waited last minute to do his part, so I had to help him. I feel bad for missing it." You said, taking a sip of your water.
"Theo was upset that you weren't there. Probably what motivated him to win the game. That boy is obsessed with you," Enzo said, nudging you. You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. "We're just friends, Enzo."
"For now." Enzo wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him, rolling your eyes.
Did you like Theo? Yeah, but you didn't think he would like you back. He had a lot of girls on him and he could choose any of them. You were so wrapped in your mind and your conversation that you didn't notice that Theo had wandered off until you heard your name being called.
"Take Theo back to his dorm, please!" Blaise pleaded as he and Mattheo held a nearly blacked-out Theo up. You hopped up, grabbing Theo from them.
"Oh, hey, pretty girl." Theo drunkenly grinned at you. You smiled back. "You should've stopped drinking, Teddy."
"Really should've." Mattheo agreed. "You know where his dorm is. Don't worry about cleaning up down here, we got it."
You nodded, saying your goodbyes to everyone before walking upstairs to Theo's room.
"Pretty girl." Theo dragged out the pet name. "Your hair is so soft."
"Thanks, Teddy." You opened the door to his room, switched on the lights, and put him on the bed.
"Come on, let's get you in pajamas." You tapped his nose lightly, making him smile at you.
"You're so pretty, pretty girl. That's why I call you 'pretty girl' because you're so fucking pretty. Sometimes I think you're otherworldly because of it," Theo gushed, falling back on his bed. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the compliments flowed from Theo's mouth.
"Thank you, Theo. Here, put this shirt on." You handed the shirt to Theo, who shook his head no. "I like to be shirtless."
Theo pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. You tried your best not to stare at his chest before handing him a pair of pants.
"You're taking good care of me, pretty girl. I wish you could always take care of me. Merlin, I love you so much." Theo spoke again. You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. "What?" You said softly.
"I love you like I'm so in love with you. I just want to be with you all the time." Theo continued. You cleared your throat, pushing him under the covers. Theo was clearly saying anything to you because he was drunk. If Pansy or Daphne were here, he would probably say the same thing. You forced yourself to repeat that to yourself repeatedly so you could believe it.
"Get some sleep, Theo, goodnight." You switched off his light as you swung his door open. "Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you." Theo said.
You quickly shut the door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn't know how to interpret what had just happened. Theo admitted to being in love with you. Or did he? He was drunk, so he probably wasn't serious. Yeah, he was drunk. You took a deep breath before making your way back downstairs.
Mattheo saw you hurry down the stairs and raised his eyebrow at you, "You good? Is Theo okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm," You said. Mattheo eyed you, "What happened?"
"What? Why would anything happen?" You asked, diverting your eyes anywhere but to Mattheo's.
"..."
You sighed, glancing down at your feet, "Theo said he was in love with me."
The room froze as everyone turned their heads to look at you. Suddenly, you felt tiny. "What? Why are you guys staring at me like that?" You asked.
"Nothing! It's just...." Daphne glanced at everyone, "We didn't expect Theo to confess that when he was drunk."
"Yeah, I had galleons on an angry confession followed by an angry, passionate kiss," Draco said, causing Pansy to hit him in the arm.
You blinked. Confess? Confess as in.... he's been holding this in for a long time?
"Wait, so he's telling the truth, and you all knew it?" You asked. Everyone made noises in agreement.
"I mean, everyone can see how head over heels he is for you. You were the only one denying it." Blaise said. Your face felt hot, and you shook your head, "I'm going to my dorm."
Everyone laughed, bidding you goodbye.
Theo woke up the next day with a terrible headache.
"Ahh, there's our champion." Blaise's teasing voice caused Theo to groan.
"Why would I ever drink that much?" Theo asked, mainly to himself. Enzo laughed, setting a cup of water and some medicine on Theo's bedside. "I don't know, but it was quite entertaining to see you get taken care of by your pretty girl." Enzo's voice was teasing and light.
Theo's face immediately heated at the idea of acting like a fool in front of you. "Did I do something stupid in front of her?"
Blaise and Enzo shared a look before shrugging. Theo looked at both of them. "What? What did I do? Oh, Merlin, tell me I didn't embarrass myself."
"I wouldn't say you embarrassed yourself," Blaise said.
"But sober Theo definitely wouldn't have confessed to her that he's in love with her," Enzo said.
It took Theo a moment to realize what Enzo had said before his face turned completely red in shame and embarrassment.
"I told her I was in love with her?" Theo groaned loudly. That was not how he pictured confessing to you. Well, he never pictured confessing his feelings to you because he was scared and had no intentions of doing it.
"It's a good thing, don't you think? I mean, she finally knows." Blaise said, "Although she might need some convincing because she thinks you only said it because you were drunk and probably didn't mean it."
Theo hopped out of his bed, finding the nearest t-shirt before slipping on his shoes. He had already confessed how he felt and if it's already out there, there's no point in hiding it.
Theo spirited to your dorm, not muttering a good morning to anyone as he pushed past them. Finally, he got to your dorm and banged on it until he heard your feet shuffling.
"Teddy?" You asked groggily before focusing your eyes on the out-of-breath and frizzled Theo in front of you, "What the hell happened to you?"
"I meant it."
"What?"
There was silence between you two. He knew you knew what he was talking about, so it didn't take long for realization to take over your face.
"I meant it." Theo repeated himself, "Every word I said last night while I was sloppy drunk was true."
"I have been trying to work up the courage to say something about it for the last year or so. Granted, I didn't think it would be while I was drunk."
"How long?" You tilted your head to the side, with a hint of amusement gracing your face.
Theo's face flushed pink, as he knew you were teasing him, as well as being genuinely curious. "Since first year. When I saw you on the train to school."
"You didn't even speak to me until third year."
"I was nervous." Theo let out a breath. "I watched you, though."
You held back a laugh as Theo immediately turned even more red. "That was creepy. I didn't mean it like that! I just— we've shared a lot of classes and— I'm going to shut up."
You stood on your tippy toes, kissing Theo's flushed cheeks. "I've had a crush on you since second year."
"Really?"
You nodded, smiling. "So what now?"
"Um, will you go on a date with me? Maybe next weekend after the quidditch game?" Theo asked, feeling more nervous than ever.
"I would love to, " you smiled. And I won't miss this game, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that." Theo smiled back.
You gave Theo another kiss on the cheek. "It's still early. I'll see you later, okay?"
Theo nodded, and you smiled, closing your door. Theo stayed there for a few more seconds until he realized he probably looked crazy for just smiling at your door.
Who knew getting drunk had some perks?
#theodore nott#slytherin boys#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#theodore nott x reader#jayybugg fics#slytherin#fluff#theo nott x reader
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The hermit community is pretty old so I probably don’t have to say this, but I know a lot of people in the fandom are young; but here’s a few tips from an old school yog fan
1. just because someone has left or did a bad thing, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for enjoying the content, along with still wanting to watch that old content they did or were a part of
2. Just because someone has left or did a bad thing does not mean you cannot continue to make fan content. While it’s understandable if you don’t make more or remove art you have made, you are also not bad if you don’t. YouTube is all about collaboration and transformation. Fanart? Fanfic? Cosplay? That’s all transformative, you don’t have to stop making a new thing from the old thing. It’s fully in your right to do so, but it’s not required.
3. Do not harass people about whether they do or don’t make art or delete art, it’s transformative works and personal choice, the most you should do is ask for it to be tagged so it can be filtered.
4. Don’t harass the creators either, it’s clearly been handled and handled well. If this was a case of it being ignored for years by the company or group (COUGH SJIN YOGSCAST COUGH) then it would be more complicated, but it’s a solved issue. Don’t harass iskall or stress either
5. You are allowed to hold off on making a value judgment until you have more information. We don’t have a lot of information and things around kids media tend to be a lot more stricter then adults for what’s appropriate. so it could be a lot of different things of highly varying morality ranging from assault to a bad case of public intoxication that didn’t fit the child friendly brand of the Hermits. We don’t know. Especially about Stress her resignation and how it relates is a near total mystery right now.
6. Be kind to each other, and remember the people you watch are people, and people do dumb or fucked shit sometimes, it sucks, but these are just people, hopefully it’s something to be grown from by Iskall and not something life ruining, but let this remind everyone to not put people on pedestals as unproblematic. Every hermit has probably held an opinion or been a part of something you’d find distasteful, that’s just what it means to be human. It’s up to you to decide where your personal line is and your comfort levels on that stuff, and no one can make that choice for you.
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The Missing Track - Min Yoongi One-Shot
Pairing: !Idol Yoongi x ! producer f. reader
Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞
Word count: ~ 30k
Summary: Suga of BTS is on the edge, racing against the clock to finish his solo album. With just three songs left to complete and a looming deadline, he's struggling to find inspiration. In a last-minute move, his company pairs him with the highly secretive Producer K, a renowned but elusive figure in the music industry. Everyone assumes Producer K is a male, but when Suga meets the mysterious producer, he's shocked to discover that K is actually a talented and confident woman. As they collaborate, the line between professional and personal begins to blur. Their chemistry is undeniable, but with a ticking clock and the pressure to deliver, can they finish the album on time? Or will their growing connection derail everything they've worked for? Secrets, passion, and music. Can Suga keep his focus, or will Producer K. change everything?
!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex, slow burn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, jealousy
A/N: I miss these two already!! 🥺 This story was highly influenced by me having Yoongi's SDL and Reed Wonder's The machine on repeat. Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! Let me know your thoughts 💕.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The soft hum of equipment filled the studio, punctuated by the click-clack of Yoongi's keyboard. His desk was a mess of coffee cups, scribbled notes, and sheet music—proof of hours spent chasing inspiration that eluded him.
"Hyung," a staff member, Jihoon, said cautiously, standing near the doorway. "I think we need to talk about your album. Specifically, the last tracks you’re stuck on."
Yoongi swivelled his chair, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not stuck," he said sharply. "I just need time."
"You have three months before the release date," Jihoon reminded him. "And right now, three of the songs don’t have melodies. You’ve been staring at the lyrics for weeks."
Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I’m working on it."
Jihoon hesitated, holding back a smirk. "The team suggested bringing in another producer."
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need help. This is my album. I’ve handled everything myself before, haven’t I?"
"This time, we’re short on time," Jihoon countered. "And we’re talking about Prod. K. He’s incredible! The guy with the minimalist beats and genre-blending compositions. Even you’ve praised his work."
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I praised the music, not the person. And I don’t work with strangers, especially ones I’ve never even met."
"It’s non-negotiable, hyung." Jihoon sighed. "The higher-ups already agreed. We’re bringing him in to collaborate."
"Bringing him in?" Yoongi repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I’ve never even seen his face. For all I know, he could be some arrogant newbie."
Jihoon smirked, his gaze flickering with amusement Yoongi didn’t appreciate. "Lets not judge, just wait until you meet him."
Yoongi grumbled, turning back to his monitor. "Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for him. And when he leaves because I’m too ‘difficult,’ you can tell the higher-ups they were wrong."
~~ Y/N POV ~~ "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed, pacing the small office where my team had dropped the bombshell of the century. "To collaborate with Suga of BTS in person? Sure, it’s an honor, but that’s a no from me. If my identity gets leaked, the fact that I’m a woman, working with him in some tiny studio, any sasaeng will have me on their hit list before I even step out the door."
My manager, Minji, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but eyes pleading. "Y/N, listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His songs are streamed millions of times. You can’t just brush this off."
"I’m not brushing it off," I shot back. "I respect his work, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not willing to risk it. There are plenty of artists who would kill to have me on their projects just by sending them my demo, and they’re happy to communicate with me online without ever knowing who I am. Why him? Why now? Why like this?"
Minji sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It’s not just about you. The label needs this. We’re in a tight spot financially, and this contract is massive. Do you know how much they’re offering?"
I didn’t want to hear the number. Money had never been my motivator, but the way Minji’s face softened told me it was enough to make a difference, not just for me but for my entire team. I groaned, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms. "Why can’t anyone hear my opinion? I don’t want to do this. I’m not just some faceless entity, you know."
"You’re not," Minji said gently. "But you also know how much this could elevate your career. Three songs, Y/N. That’s all they’re asking for. Just three."
Her words echoed in my head, the weight of them pulling me in two directions. Logic screamed to take the job, but fear—fear of exposure, of judgment—held me back.
"Fine," I said finally, hating how small my voice sounded. "I’ll think about it."
*** That night, I found myself on an unintentional deep dive into Min Yoongi’s a.k.a SUGA a.k.a AGUST D world. It started innocently enough: a quick search to refresh my memory of his discography. But then one song led to another, and another, until I was buried in hours of music he’d produced, lyrics he’d written, and performances that made me forget why I was so hesitant in the first place. Scrolling through fan edits and live clips, I couldn’t help but be charmed. There was a reason people adored him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet charisma that seeped through the screen. His easy confidence, the way he handled himself on stage and in interviews, was magnetic.
"Focus," I muttered to myself, shaking off the distraction. But the deeper I went into his work, the harder it was to ignore his genius.
His music was haunting, intricate, and raw. The kind of art that pulled you into someone’s soul, no matter how much they tried to hide. I couldn’t help but wonder how someone with this much expertise got stuck?
By the time dawn broke, I called Minji. "Minji," I said the moment she answered, her voice still groggy. "I’ll do it."
"Wait, what? You’re serious?" she asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes, but on one condition."
"Name it."
"No one finds out who I am. If my identity leaks, I’m out."
Minji exhaled sharply. "We’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the higher-ups and confirm everything. Thank you, Y/N. This is the right decision."
I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but it was the one I’d made. The next couple of days blurred into a whirlwind of paperwork. Contracts, NDAs, and endless signatures filled my time, the reality of the collaboration sinking in more and more with each passing document. Ironically, a small part of me hoped that Min Yoongi would refuse to sign the NDA. Maybe he’d see the clause about not sharing my identity, find it too ridiculous, and decide the collaboration wasn’t worth it.
But no.
He signed it.
When Minji told me, I stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "He signed it?"
"Yeah," she said, looking just as surprised. "No arguments, no complaints. Honestly, I thought he’d push back, but he didn’t."
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This guy… He’s full of surprises."
"Don’t get your hopes up," Minji warned. "Just because he signed doesn’t mean this will be smooth sailing."
"I know," I muttered. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder. How different was the man behind the screen, the one whose music I’d admired for a while, from the person I was about to meet?
*** A few days later, everything was finalized. Minji and I were contacted by Jihoon, one of the team members who worked closely with Suga.
"He’s coming to pick us up personally?" I asked Minji, eyebrows raised as I adjusted my headphones around my neck.
"Apparently," Minji replied, glancing at her phone. "Guess he wants to make sure we actually show up."
When Jihoon arrived, he was younger than I expected, his energy warm and casual. He greeted Minji with a polite bow and a bright smile, then turned to me. For a moment, his expression faltered, his eyes darting behind me like he was waiting for someone else to appear.
"Uh… Hi," he said, looking between Minji and me. "You’re both here for Suga, right?"
"Yes," Minji answered smoothly. "This is K." She gestured toward me.
Jihoon blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait… You’re Producer K?"
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That’s me."
"You’re kidding," he said, then immediately looked apologetic. "I mean, sorry, I just—uh—"
"You were expecting someone else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Kind of, yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "No offense, but I thought you’d be, you know…"
"A guy," I finished for him, crossing my arms.
He laughed awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I mean, your music has this… vibe. It’s not what I’d expect from—" He cut himself off again, realizing he wasn’t helping.
"From a woman?" I challenged, though there was no malice in my tone.
"Not what I meant!" Jihoon exclaimed, waving his hands. "It’s just…forget it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you."
Minji chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry. She gets that a lot."
I didn’t hold it against him. The entire point of my stage name was to avoid this kind of reaction, but moments like these reminded me why I kept my identity under wraps. Jihoon composed himself quickly and gestured toward the sleek black van parked nearby. "Anyway, let’s get going. Suga’s waiting for us at HYBE."
*** The drive to HYBE was surprisingly pleasant. Jihoon was chatty, making an effort to ease the awkwardness of our initial interaction.
"So," he began, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror, "I’m curious. How long have you been producing?"
"About six years," I replied.
"Wow, and you’re already working with Suga," he said, genuinely impressed. "That’s not something just anyone gets to do."
"I’m aware," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "It’s a privilege."
He nodded. "Have you been a fan of his music for a while?"
I hesitated. "I respect his work. He’s incredibly talented."
Jihoon grinned knowingly. "You’re downplaying it, huh? That’s fine. Most people get nervous meeting him for the first time. Don’t worry, he’s actually a lot nicer than people think."
Minji let out a quiet laugh beside me. "I don’t think nervousness is the issue here."
Jihoon glanced between us, confused but wisely decided not to press further.
*** Pulling up to HYBE’s towering building was intimidating, to say the least. I’d seen pictures online, of course, but being there in person was a different experience.
"Here we are," Jihoon announced as he parked the van.
As we stepped out, I adjusted my hoodie, making sure it covered my face as much as possible. Even with the NDA in place, I couldn’t shake the paranoia of being recognized. Jihoon led us through the back entrance, avoiding the main lobby and elevators filled with staff and trainees. "We’re heading straight to the studio," he explained. "He’s already there."
The walk felt longer than it probably was, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. When we finally reached the studio, Jihoon paused at the door, turning to us.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I’ll ever be," I replied, tightening my grip on my laptop case.
He opened the door, and there he was, Min Yoongi, sitting in front of a massive console, his back to us.
He turned at the sound of the door, his expression neutral as he stood to greet us. His gaze swept over Minji first, then landed on me. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he frowned, looking at Jihoon.
"This is K?" he asked, his tone sceptical.
Jihoon winced. "Uh, yeah. This is K."
Yoongi’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "You’re joking, right?"
I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Last time I checked, I’m not a joke."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "You’re not what I expected."
"Good," I said, setting my laptop on the table. "Let’s get started." Yoongi smirked, leaning against the edge of the console, arms crossed. His sharp gaze never left me as he added, "I have to say, your previous work didn’t exactly… scream ‘feminine touch.’ If anything, I thought you’d walk in here with a beard and flannel shirt."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
Jihoon coughed awkwardly, stepping back as if distancing himself from Yoongi’s comment. Minji shot him a warning look, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.
Yoongi raised a hand, his smirk widening. "No offense. I’m just saying your music has this raw, almost aggressive energy. It’s impressive. I just didn’t picture..." He motioned vaguely toward me. "...this."
Minji quickly interjected, "Alright, we’ll leave you two to it. Jihoon and I have some things to take care of."
"Wait—" I started, but Minji grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve and dragged him toward the door.
"You’ll be fine," she called over her shoulder. "Just... play nice, both of you."
The door shut with a soft click, and I was left staring at Yoongi, who looked far too amused for my liking.
"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You think this whole thing is a waste of time, right? That I’m here because someone in your company thought you needed ‘help.’"
He shrugged, moving to his chair and spinning it lazily before sitting down. "Help isn’t the word I’d use. But yeah, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this arrangement."
"Trust me," I said flatly, "neither was I."
That earned a low chuckle from him. "At least we’re on the same page."
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. I’d dealt with condescending colleagues before, but Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude was already grating on my nerves. How different was he from the Yoongi I’d seen in interviews or fan videos? This guy wasn’t the soft-spoken, thoughtful artist fans adored. He was sharp, blunt, and entirely too smug.
"Let’s just get to work," I said, pulling out my laptop and external drive. "You have lyrics, right? Show me what you’ve got."
Yoongi grabbed a notebook from the desk and slid it across the table. "Here. Three tracks I’m stuck on. The lyrics are solid, but I can’t find the right sound to match them."
I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines. His handwriting was neat but compact, and the lyrics were, as expected, incredible. Emotionally raw, introspective, and layered with meaning. They demanded a melody that could do them justice.
"What’s the vibe you’re going for?" I asked, keeping my tone professional.
Yoongi tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "Something atmospheric. A mix of minimalistic and haunting, but with enough depth to make it feel powerful. Think piano-driven but layered with electronic textures. I want it to hit hard emotionally but not overwhelm the lyrics."
I nodded, already forming ideas in my head. "Okay, let’s try something."
Opening my laptop, I connected it to the studio’s system and pulled up my digital audio workstation. I started layering a simple chord progression on the piano, experimenting with minor chords to create the moody tone he wanted. Yoongi watched silently for a moment before leaning forward. "No, that’s too soft. It needs more tension."
I adjusted the progression, adding a dissonant note to the second chord. "Better?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Now bring in a low synth pad to fill it out."
I worked quickly, adding the synth and tweaking the sound to give it a subtle pulse. The room filled with the beginnings of a melody, and for a moment, the tension between us eased as we both focused on the music.
"Not bad," Yoongi muttered, almost to himself. "But it still feels... flat."
I bit back a retort, reminding myself that this was his music. "What do you suggest?"
He leaned back, closing his eyes as he listened. "The transition between the first and second chords needs more weight. Maybe a reversed sample or a swell to build anticipation."
I nodded, grabbing a sample from my library and reversing it. After a few adjustments, I played it back. The swell added a subtle but impactful build to the transition.
Yoongi opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "That’s better."
"Glad I could meet your standards," I said dryly.
He chuckled again, the sound low and almost teasing. "Relax. I’m not here to make this harder than it has to be."
"Could’ve fooled me," I muttered under my breath, earning another amused glance from him.
Despite his initial scepticism, Yoongi was a perfectionist, and that part of him was something I could respect. He pushed for the smallest details, catching nuances that most producers might overlook. But he also didn’t hold back his opinions, which made working with him both frustrating and oddly invigorating.
As the hours passed, we fell into a rhythm. He’d point out what wasn’t working, I’d offer a solution, and we’d tweak it until we found something we both liked. By the time we wrapped up for the day, we’d made significant progress on the first track. The rough demo already had a haunting, melancholic energy that complemented his lyrics perfectly. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Not bad for our first day."
"Let’s hope tomorrow’s just as productive," I said, saving the project file.
He smirked, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "We’ll see. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be."
"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You’re a real charmer."
"Only when I want to be," he shot back, heading for the door.
As he left, I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. Working with him was exhausting, but I couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling under my frustration. For all his arrogance, Yoongi was undeniably talented, and I found myself looking forward to the challenge of working with him. *** The next morning, Yoongi and I sat in the studio reviewing the progress from the day before. The demo played softly in the background, and while it sounded promising, there were a few sections that felt off.
"We need to rework this transition," Yoongi said, pointing at the waveform on the screen. "It’s too abrupt. It needs more build-up."
I nodded, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Agreed. Maybe adding a soft vocal sample or layering the synth more would smooth it out."
"Try it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
As I adjusted the track, Yoongi’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep working. I’ll be back."
He left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I sighed and refocused on the track, tweaking the layers as the melody slowly started to evolve. But after about twenty minutes, I decided to take a break. My coffee from earlier had caught up with me, and I needed to find the bathroom.
Stepping into the hallway, I started down the corridor when I heard Yoongi’s voice from around the corner. I paused, not wanting to interrupt, but something about his tone made me linger.
"...So yeah, Jihoon, I didn’t know she was a girl," he was saying.
I froze, my pulse quickening.
"I mean, if I’d known that was the case, maybe I would’ve pushed back harder at the beginning. Told them I didn’t need the help. She’s okay and talented, sure, but there are other producers out there who could’ve done this just as well."
My stomach twisted. Was that really what he thought of me? I took a step back, the faint creak of my shoe on the floor startling me. Afraid he might notice, I turned and quickly walked the other way, heading toward the nearest staircase to find another bathroom. I didn’t want to hear anything else.
After finally finding a bathroom and giving myself a moment to cool down, I headed back to the studio. I was determined not to let Yoongi know I’d overheard him, but my annoyance simmered beneath the surface. When I stepped back into the room, he was already there, seated casually at the console like he hadn’t just dismissed my abilities a few minutes ago.
"Done with your break?" he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through the project file.
"Yeah," I replied shortly, taking my seat across from him.
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly. "You okay? You sound... off."
"Just tired," I said, forcing a neutral tone.
He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. Let’s pick up where we left off."
We dove back into the work, but my responses to his suggestions were clipped.
"That transition is too smooth," he said at one point. "It needs more contrast."
"Fine," I replied curtly, adjusting the settings without looking at him.
A few minutes later, he frowned at another section. "This part feels like it’s missing something. Maybe we should—"
"Add another layer?" I interrupted. "I know. Already on it."
Yoongi blinked at me, surprised by my tone. "What’s with the attitude?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, not meeting his gaze.
"Doesn’t seem like nothing," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you’ve got something to say, just say it."
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the mouse. "I don’t have anything to say, Yoongi. Let’s just get this done, okay?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might push further. But then he shrugged, turning back to the monitor. "Whatever you say."
The tension in the room was palpable, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.
"Look," he said after a long silence, his voice softer but still firm, "if something’s bothering you, it’s better to air it out now. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?"
I laughed humourlessly. "Team? Right."
Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, what did I do? You were fine this morning, and now you’re acting like I kicked your dog."
I hesitated, torn between calling him out and keeping what I’d heard to myself. In the end, I shook my head. "It’s nothing. Let’s just focus on the music."
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop, his focus returning to the track. For the rest of the session, I kept my replies short, my tone professional but distant. If he noticed, he didn’t comment again. But as I left the studio that evening, I couldn’t shake the sting of his words. He might think I was talented, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.
*** Sunday was a rare blessing, my day off, a chance to breathe away from the suffocating confines of the studio and Min Yoongi. The contract was clear: three months to collaborate on three tracks for his upcoming album. That deadline loomed over every interaction, and yet, the past week had felt like a year.
I sat across from Minji at our favourite café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter around us. She was nursing her caramel latte, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward. "How’s it going with Yoongi? Are you two getting along?"
I scoffed, stirring my drink with unnecessary aggression. "Getting along? Not even close. He’s impossible."
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Impossible how? Isn’t he just... quiet and focused?"
"Quiet? Sure. Focused? Definitely. But it’s like working with a brick wall that also has an opinion on everything. He’s a perfectionist to the point where it’s unbearable. We made progress on a track, a full week’s worth of progress, and on Friday, he decided he didn’t like it and scrapped the whole thing. We’re starting from scratch tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "He threw it all away? After a week? Was it really that bad?"
I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it wasn’t bad. It was good, really good, actually. But it wasn’t perfect by his standards. He nit-picks every little thing, and don’t even get me started on his work ethic. The man doesn’t stop. I get it, he’s Yoongi, he’s supposed to be this genius producer or whatever. But does he have to be so infuriating?"
Minji smiled sympathetically, sipping her latte. "Well, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He’s got a reputation for a reason. But isn’t it a good challenge? You’re working with one of the best."
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought it would be different, you know? I had this idea of him in my head. This brilliant, creative artist who would respect me as a collaborator. Instead, he’s... cold, demanding, and so stubborn."
Minji chuckled. "Sounds like he’s met his match."
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, please. If he’s met his match, he doesn’t realize it. He probably just sees me as another producer he has to tolerate."
"That’s not true," Minji said, shaking her head. "You’re talented, Y/N. He’ll see it eventually."
I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I hope so, because right now, it feels like we’re just butting heads. He questions everything I do. And don’t even get me started on his attitude. He’s so... smug sometimes."
"Smug how?"
"Like—ugh!" I gestured vaguely, trying to find the words. "It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s constantly judging whether I’m good enough to be there. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell he’s thinking it. And it drives me insane."
Minji laughed, leaning back in her chair. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"
"Bad?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Bad as in annoyed? Yes. Bad as in anything else? Absolutely not."
"Sure," she said, her tone teasing.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You’re impossible."
Minji grinned, nudging my arm. "You know, maybe this is good for you. A little friction can spark creativity. And who knows? Maybe he’s just testing you."
"Testing me?" I repeated, giving her a sceptical look.
"Yeah. Like, seeing how far you’re willing to push yourself. Maybe he’s trying to figure you out."
"Or maybe he’s just a workaholic control freak," I muttered.
Minji laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Point taken. But don’t let him get under your skin too much. You’ve got this, Y/N. And who knows? By the end of three months, maybe you’ll even like him."
I snorted. "Not a chance."
But as much as I hated to admit it, her words stuck with me.
*** The following week was no easier than the first. Yoongi and I worked tirelessly in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, experimenting with melodies, and layering sounds. For every step forward, there seemed to be two steps back.
"This bassline isn’t strong enough," Yoongi said on Tuesday, frowning at the speakers.
"I think it works," I argued. "It’s subtle, but it adds depth to the track."
"Subtle isn’t what we’re going for," he countered.
"And what are we going for, exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "Something better than this."
I wanted to throw my notebook at him.
By Wednesday, we’d managed to salvage some of the earlier work, only for Yoongi to suggest another round of revisions.
"You’re kidding," I said, staring at him.
"Do I look like I’m kidding?" he replied, completely serious.
"Do you ever smile?" I shot back.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
The tension between us was constant, a tug-of-war where neither of us was willing to back down. And yet, beneath the frustration, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our interactions. As much as I disliked him, I couldn’t deny that he was brilliant. Watching him work was like witnessing a master at his craft, every decision precise, every movement deliberate. But that didn’t mean I liked him. And I certainly wasn’t going to let him know just how much I respected his talent.
*** The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the studio, casting soft golden stripes across the equipment. I was at the workstation, tweaking some samples on my laptop while Yoongi stepped out for a meeting, or whatever it was he disappeared to.
The door opened suddenly, and I assumed it was him coming back. "Did you finally decide to—"
I froze mid-sentence as someone entirely different walked in. The man was tall, with a warm smile and an unmistakable energy that lit up the room. His eyes scanned the studio until they landed on me, his confusion immediately evident.
"Uh… hi?" he said, his smile faltering slightly. "I’m looking for Yoongi. Did I walk into the wrong room? I am pretty sure this is the right one though..." he started scratching the top of his head, clearly confused.
"No, this is the right place," I replied, standing awkwardly. "He just stepped out for a bit."
His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Wait—who are you? Why is there… a girl in here?"
I frowned, crossing my arms. "What’s that supposed to mean? Girls aren’t allowed in studios now?"
His hands shot up defensively, and he chuckled nervously. "No, no! That’s not what I meant! It’s just… Yoongi didn’t mention working with someone new today. And you’re clearly not Jihoon."
"Clearly," I said dryly.
He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. "Okay, let me start over. I’m Hoseok, but you probably know me as J-Hope."
Ah, then it clicked , of course it was J-Hope. His sunny demeanour didn’t match the grumpy energy Yoongi radiated, though, which was a refreshing change.
"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite nod. "I’m Y/N."
Hoseok’s expression didn’t change for a moment as if he were trying to process something. Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer like he’d just discovered something exciting.
"Wait a second," he said, his tone playfully suspicious. "I’m not even supposed to be here, you know. I heard Yoongi was working with the producer K who doesn’t even disclose their identity, but I just couldn’t resist. I love the music that K has done, so I had to come meet him. Will sign an NDA and everything."
I felt a twinge of amusement at his enthusiasm but kept my expression neutral. Something told me it was okay for him to know. "Well, congratulations. You just met… him."
Hoseok blinked, and then his jaw dropped dramatically as he pointed at me. "No way!"
"Way," I said, trying not to laugh.
His hand flew to his chest as if he were clutching imaginary pearls. "That’s why Yoongi didn’t even say anything when I begged for details! He just said, ‘There’s an NDA in place’ and refused to elaborate."
"Pretty much," I replied with a shrug.
Hoseok stared at me for a beat longer before a wide grin spread across his face. "You’re good. Like, really good. I’ve been following your work, but I never would’ve guessed you were… Well, you!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that a compliment or a subtle way of saying I don’t look the part?"
"No, no, definitely a compliment," he said quickly, waving his hands. "It’s just… Yoongi’s been extra secretive about this whole thing. And now I see why."
"Yeah, well," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, "he’s not exactly a ray of sunshine to work with."
Hoseok laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Trust me, I know. But if you’re still here, that means you’re tougher than most. Or really patient."
"Or both," I muttered under my breath.
Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute. "Well, K—er, Y/N—it’s an honor to meet you. Seriously. Your work speaks for itself."
He continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, when I say this, Yoongi wouldn’t work with you if you weren’t talented. He’s picky about these things. So if he’s giving you a hard time, it’s probably because he knows you’re good enough to keep up with him."
I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "That’s… nice of you to say."
"Just calling it like I see it," he said with a shrug.
Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Yoongi walked in. His eyes flicked between me and Hoseok, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Hoseok, his tone laced with mild irritation.
Hoseok grinned, completely unfazed. "Came by to check on you, of course. But I see you’re in good hands."
Yoongi’s gaze shifted to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—annoyance? Curiosity? It was hard to tell.
"Don’t you have your own schedule to worry about?" Yoongi asked, walking over to his desk.
"I’m on a break," Hoseok replied cheerfully. "And besides, I wanted to meet your mystery producer. You could’ve mentioned she’s not a guy, by the way."
Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on the stack of notes in front of him, clearly dismissing the conversation.
"Well," Hoseok said, standing up and stretching, "I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Y/N."
"Nice meeting you too," I said, watching as he strolled out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Yoongi and me alone again.
"You’ve been busy making friends," he said, not looking up from his papers.
"Is that a problem?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Just don’t let him distract you. We’ve got work to do."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," I said, turning back to my laptop with a hint of sarcasm.
Yoongi didn’t push further, but I could feel his gaze linger on me for a moment before he returned to his papers. But as I settled back into the project, I couldn’t help but think about what Hoseok had said. Maybe Yoongi’s high standards weren’t a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, they were proof that he saw something in me worth pushing for. *** The next day, I walked into the studio, ready to dive into the work, but there was something off in the air. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. It was a subtle change, but it didn’t escape me, he wasn’t his usual, calm and collected self.
I sat down at my workstation, glancing over at him. He was clearly deep in thought, but there was an edge to his silence today that felt... different. More charged. I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterday’s interaction with Hoseok. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge my arrival, which was typical, but today his lack of response felt unusually pointed. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke without looking up.
“Didn’t you want your identity a secret?” His voice was cold, almost accusatory.
I froze.
“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance creeping up my neck.
“Talking to Hoseok yesterday," he continued, now looking at me with an unreadable expression. "The whole 'I can’t reveal my identity' thing. So why are you suddenly so comfortable with him knowing?"
I felt a flash of irritation surge through me, but I kept my voice level.
“I never said I was ‘comfortable’ with it,” I replied. “I’m just doing my job. And I don’t owe you an explanation about my personal decisions”.
He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read between the lines, but said nothing more. The tension hung heavy in the room as he returned to his screen, though his fingers seemed to hesitate over the keys. I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. What did he think? That I just decided to throw away years of carefully cultivated anonymity for fun? Minji had already alerted me that J-hope had also signed the NDA. I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Let’s just get to work,” I said, my tone clipped, trying to deflect from the awkwardness of his question. “You said you wanted to tweak the second verse.”
“Yeah," he muttered, still not meeting my gaze, "but now I’m wondering if I even want to keep collaborating with someone who can’t keep things private.”
There it was again. That little jab. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth, my patience thinning.
“I’ve been working in this industry for years, Yoongi,” I said, fighting to keep my composure. “Long before this project. I know what’s at stake. Don’t lecture me about privacy.”
He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something, was it guilt? But he quickly masked it with his usual indifference.
“Right,” he said, standing up and walking toward the soundboard. “Let’s get this over with.”
The rest of the session passed with both of us avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Despite the friction, we did manage to make some progress. I’d never admit it aloud, but Yoongi was damn good at what he did. Even when he was being insufferable. After a while, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off a headache.
“You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he muttered, half to himself.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you expect?”
He gave me a sideways glance, not quite meeting my eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe someone more... calculated. Or quieter.”
“Is that so?” I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Because I thought you liked chaos in your music.”
He smirked at that, but the tension still lingered between us, thick and unresolved.
As the day wore on, we continued to push through, though it was clear neither of us was really in the mood for any small talk or the usual banter. The chemistry that had started to form in previous days was gone, replaced by an almost uncomfortable distance. I finally stood up to stretch, my back aching from sitting for so long. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice cool, as though he didn’t care.
“Yeah. I’m going to grab something to eat,” I replied curtly, gathering my things.
Halfway through gathering my things, for a split second, I thought I saw Yoongi open his mouth as if he was about to say something. Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face or just the weird tension between us, but for a brief second, I thought, just maybe, he was going to offer to grab something to eat with me. Instead, he just turned away, his back to me as he focused on his work. I blinked, swallowing the unexpected disappointment that bubbled up. What was I even expecting? It wasn’t like we were friends. Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my bag and left the studio, the door clicking shut behind me.
*** Once I got to the company’s cafeteria, I was finally able to relax. The soft buzz of voices and clinking silverware was a welcome break from the tension in the studio. I grabbed a tray and found a seat by the window, trying my best to shove aside any thoughts of Yoongi.
He was a talented producer, no doubt, but the way he treated me was... irritating. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. This was business, not friendship, and I had no time to be distracted by someone who probably saw me as just another collaborator, nothing more.
I opened my notebook and jotted down a few ideas for the next two songs we still needed to work on. The first song was nearly done, but we’d been working on it for two weeks, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It was slow progress, and I could already feel the deadline creeping closer.
I was so deep in thought, sketching out some melodies, that I didn’t notice Hoseok standing in front of me until he waved his hand in front of my face.
“Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.
I jumped a little, then glanced up at him. “Oh, hey, Hoseok. Didn’t see you there.”
He slid into the seat across from me, still grinning like he knew something I didn’t. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me curiously. “So, how’s it going? He’s not making it too hard for you, is he?”
I almost snorted at the question. “Hard? That’s an understatement. But yeah, I’m surviving. We’re getting somewhere.”
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to get along with Yoongi so easily. He’s a bit... stubborn, right?”
I shrugged, taking a bite of my food to avoid answering too directly.
“You’d be surprised what I can tolerate,” I said, feeling defensive for some reason.
Hoseok tilted his head, his gaze sharp. “I guess so. But you know, it’s funny.”
I looked up from my food, confused. “What’s funny?”
Hoseok smirked. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to be such a fan of Yoongi’s music.”
I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you mean?”
Hoseok just pointed at my phone on the table, where I’d left it open to a playlist of Yoongi’s songs.
I froze, then quickly reached to hide it, but it was too late. Hoseok’s grin widened.
“You know, I really didn’t expect that,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. “I mean, I always knew Yoongi’s music was good, but seeing you listen to it like that... I got to admit, I’m curious what you think of it.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m just... trying to learn more about him, okay? It’s part of the job.”
“Sure, sure,” Hoseok said, still grinning. “I mean, I get it. He’s got a certain... appeal. But hey, don’t let it distract you too much. He’s not the easiest person to get close to.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I muttered, returning to my food, trying to act like I wasn’t the least bit fazed.
Hoseok studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
“Well, if you want my advice...” He grinned again, his eyes mischievous. “Try not to fall for the music and the man, yeah?”
I choked slightly on my food, coughing. “What?!”
Hoseok laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’m just saying, Y/N, don’t get too swept up in it all. Yoongi’s a complicated guy. He’s not someone who’ll make things easy.”
I scowled, but there was a small part of me that couldn’t help but appreciate Hoseok’s frankness. “I’m not falling for anything, Hoseok. I’m just here to do my job.”
Hoseok just winked and stood up. “Whatever you say. But if you do need to talk about him... I’m always around.”
Hoseok paused, about to turn around before he shot me a sly grin over his shoulder. “Actually… I don’t know if you’re comfortable with all this yet, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m known for throwing some pretty epic parties around here,” he said, his tone playful. “I’m throwing one at the company soon, gathering the staff, and some of the BTS members will be there too.”
I raised an eyebrow, confused at where this was going. “A party?”
“Yeah, and I can introduce you as the ‘Assistant of Producer K,’ so you won’t have to expose your identity if you’re worried about that. It’ll be low-key, just a way for you to get used to the vibe here. Who knows? You might even get a chance to chat with Yoongi... outside of the studio.” He smirked, his gaze lingering on me as if he could see through the walls I’d built up. “You can bring a plus-one too, if you want.”
It was tempting, especially with the idea of getting out of this studio for a while. Plus, Hoseok seemed genuine, and I didn’t want to just keep hiding away in my little corner of the world.
Still, I was cautious. This wasn’t my scene, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step into the spotlight, especially if it meant running into Yoongi in a setting like that. The thought of it made my stomach flip.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to sound neutral.
Hoseok grinned, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Take your time. You know where to find me if you decide.”
With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sat there for a moment, turning the invitation over in my head. A party? An opportunity to get used to the vibes, meet people, and possibly see Yoongi in a completely different light. It could be good for me to step out of my shell, get out of my head for a bit. But... was I ready for that?
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. There was no need to make decisions in a rush. I’d think about it later. I finished eating in silence, trying to push all the thoughts about Hoseok’s offer out of my head. It wasn’t like me to just drop everything for a party, but something about the idea of getting out of the studio, meeting people, and maybe getting a chance to see Yoongi in a less... tense environment intrigued me. But I couldn’t focus on that now.
I stood up, pushing my tray toward the dirty dish bin, and made my way back to the studio. As I walked through the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like I’d just left, but already it felt like I’d been away too long. The faint hum of the studio's equipment reached my ears before I even stepped through the door.
When I entered, the first thing I noticed was Yoongi, still at his spot, but now with a bowl of noodles in front of him. The faint smell of the broth hit me, and I couldn't help but cringe. Didn’t he ever leave this place?
Yoongi looked up from his meal, barely acknowledging me as I entered. "You’re back," he muttered, his voice a little muffled by a mouthful of noodles.
"Yeah," I said, letting the door close behind me. "Still working, I see."
“Of course,” he replied, the tone in his voice sounding almost too casual. "The faster we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next track."
I dropped my bag onto the table and pulled my chair out. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep rushing through everything, thinking you can just ‘move on’ from one song to the next. But this isn’t a race, Yoongi.”
He looked at me sharply, his brows furrowing. "I'm not rushing anything. We need to get this done before the deadline, and you can’t expect me to just waste time on something that isn’t working."
I stared at him, my patience thinning. “You’re not even open to trying something new. Every idea I suggest gets shot down, but you’re so attached to this ‘perfect’ vision of yours. Well, guess what? Perfect doesn’t exist.”
Yoongi set his bowl down, the chopsticks clinking against the edge. “So what, you think I’m not doing my best?” His eyes narrowed, and the room suddenly felt smaller. “You think I don’t care about the quality?”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “It’s not about that, Yoongi. You’re too set in your ways. You think your way is the only way, but this is a collaboration. I can’t just keep following your orders. I’m not your assistant.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead, like I was the last thing he needed in his life right now. "I never said you were my assistant."
“Then stop treating me like one,” I snapped, feeling my annoyance rise. "I’m not here just to cater to your ideas. If we’re working together, we need to meet in the middle."
The silence stretched between us for a few long moments. Then Yoongi glanced away, exhaling sharply as if trying to push back his own frustration. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll figure it out. But don’t expect everything to happen overnight."
“I don’t,” I replied dryly. "But I expect respect, which is something you seem to be lacking in."
He didn’t answer right away, just went back to staring at his noodles. For a moment, I thought it might be best to just call it a day and leave, but something about the lingering tension kept me rooted to the spot.
"By the way," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess myself. "Hoseok invited me to a party. At the company. I’m thinking about going."
Yoongi’s head snapped up at the mention of Hoseok’s name, and I caught the flash of something in his eyes—a mix of surprise, confusion. It was hard to tell. But whatever it was, it was there, even if he quickly masked it with a smirk.
“Hoseok?” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “What’s he got to do with you going to a party?”
"I don’t know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe I’ll go. I might need a break from the studio. Get out of here for a bit. And who knows? It might be nice to talk to someone who isn’t you."
Yoongi didn’t seem pleased with that, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him, ignoring me completely.
“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, his voice low.
“I don’t know,” I replied, leaning forward on my elbows. “You’ve been pretty hard to work with lately. Maybe a break is exactly what I need.”
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask you not to take a break. I’m just... trying to get this done.”
I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. "Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to actually collaborate. You can stop being so defensive for two seconds."
There was another tense silence before I stood up to leave the room. But as I reached for the door, something inside me—maybe frustration, maybe curiosity—made me turn back.
“By the way,” I said, walking back to Yoongi’s desk. “Could you give me Hoseok’s number? I might need it for the party.”
Yoongi froze for a second, his fingers stopping mid-air as if I’d just thrown him off balance. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.
"Why would you need that?" he finally asked, voice tight.
"Because I need to respond to him if I am showing up or not," I replied, my tone sharp.
Yoongi glared at me but didn’t say anything else, a muscle in his jaw twitching. After a beat, he reluctantly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it toward me. “Here. But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.”
I took the paper, glancing at it before shoving it into my pocket. “Thanks. I’ll make sure not to expect you there.”
Without another word, I turned and left, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. What was going on with Yoongi? And, most importantly... Why did his attitude bother me more than I cared to admit? *** I grabbed my phone, fingers hovering over the screen before I hit send. The past few days had been a blur of studio time and late-night meals. I needed something to break the routine. So, Thursday evening I finally decided to take Hoseok up on his offer.
Y/N: Hey Hoseok, it's Y/N! I just wanted to double-check the party details again. You said it’s at the company building, right? What time should I be there?
The response was almost immediate, Hoseok’s usual energy practically jumping out of the screen.
Hoseok: Yep! It’s at the company building. We’ll start around 7 PM, but feel free to come anytime after that. You know how these things go. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re introduced properly as “Prod K’s assistant” so no one will know who you really are. It’ll be low-key, promise!
I let out a relieved sigh. That sounded like exactly what I needed … low-key, no expectations, just a chance to escape the studio for a bit.
Y/N: Thanks, that sounds perfect. I’ll be there. Can I bring my friend Minji? She’d love to come.
Hoseok: Of course! Bring whoever you want. It’s all about having a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!
I grinned at the message, feeling a little lighter. At least for one night, I could just focus on having fun and not worry about my identity or working with Yoongi.
Putting my phone down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The whole idea of going to a party sounded so... normal, so different from the chaos I had been drowning in lately. The studio, Yoongi’s sharp comments, and the constant pressure to produce. Maybe this would be a good chance to just... breathe.
I glanced over at the calendar on my desk, mentally counting the days. The next day, I texted Minji.
Y/N: Hey, I’m going to that party Hoseok invited me to on Sunday. Want to come with me?
Minji: YES YES YES YES. This is going to be so fun! Who else is going?
Y/N: Apparently, all the BTS members will be there too.
Minji: Wait, like ALL of them? Are you serious? We need to plan our outfits then.
Y/N: Just don’t go overboard, okay? Let’s keep it chill.
Minji: You know I can't do “chill” when it comes to parties!
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Minji was always up for an adventure. I knew she’d be bouncing off the walls all weekend in preparation. I didn’t mind though. If anyone could pull me out of my head and get me excited for something, it was her.
When Saturday evening arrived, the studio was buzzing with an unexpected energy. After three weeks of near-constant back-and-forth, I finally felt like we’d made some real progress. The first song was done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as we could get in such a short time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders.
I glanced at Yoongi, who had been hunched over his computer screen for hours, typing away at the final tweaks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when the last beat dropped into place, he sat back in his chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"We did it," he said, turning his head to meet my eyes.
It wasn’t much, but there was a slight spark in his gaze. A hint of pride, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual indifference.
“Yeah, we did,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "It’s... good."
Yoongi paused, eyes locked on mine for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you don’t completely suck at this after all."
I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I’m glad to know you’re impressed."
We both laughed softly, the tension that had been hanging between us for weeks finally easing. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn’t used to with him, but I couldn’t deny it. It felt... nice. Like we’d just hit a milestone together.
Yoongi extended his hand, and I hesitated for a split second before I went for it, my palm feeling warmer than usual. Our high-five was awkward, neither of us really knowing how to react. But in that brief moment, I realized how unusual it was for us to share something this... simple.
"Congratulations," I said, nodding toward the screen. "We actually did it."
"Yeah," Yoongi replied, his voice softer than I expected. "I’ll see you on Monday, then. We’ll tackle the next one."
I blinked, taken aback for a second. Monday? Just like that, the professional distance came back. I hadn’t expected him to say that so casually, but I guess it was what we were supposed to do: get the work done, pack up, and move on.
But for some reason, as I sat there in the quiet of the studio, a thought lingered. He’s really not coming to the party, huh?
I glanced over at him, but Yoongi was already packing up his things, seemingly focused on getting out of the studio as quickly as possible. He didn’t even look back at me as he gathered his notes and the leftover snacks we had both been snacking on throughout the day.
I stood up and grabbed my bag, deciding it was better to just let it go. No need to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen. He was Yoongi, professional, distant Yoongi. He wasn’t someone who would show up to a party for fun.
"Alright," I said, the awkwardness settling back into my chest. "See you Monday, I guess."
Yoongi glanced over at me for a brief moment, nodding. "Yeah. See you."
As I left the studio, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but I couldn’t place what. Maybe it was just the relief of finally finishing the first song. Or maybe it was just the weird dynamic between us, the unexpected moments of quiet camaraderie that had popped up over the last few days.
But as I stepped out of the building, I realized how much I was looking forward to the party on Sunday. It was the break I needed. *** Sunday evening came faster than I expected. Minji showed up at my apartment just as I was pulling out a few potential outfits from my closet. She threw her bag on the couch and plopped herself down with a dramatic sigh.
“Finally, a party!” she exclaimed, leaning back and stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “We’ve been cooped up with that brooding genius for weeks. We need this.”
I rolled my eyes, laying a sleek black turtleneck dress over the back of the chair. “It’s not ‘we’. I’m the one stuck with him in the studio.”
Minji snorted. “You say that like I’m not the one dealing with your constant texts complaining about how annoying he is. ‘Minji, he’s impossible. Minji, he’s a perfectionist. Minji, he’s so irritatingly—’”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. “I get it.”
She caught the pillow with a grin. “Admit it, though. You’re starting to like working with him, aren’t you?”
“Like is a strong word,” I muttered, holding up a dark green dress and then discarding it. “We finally finished one song yesterday. That’s it.”
“But you’re not denying it.” She smirked, standing up to rummage through the pile of clothes I’d pulled out. “Ooh, this one’s cute.”
She held up a sequined gold dress, and I shook my head immediately. “Too flashy. I’m not trying to stand out. Just look professional and approachable.”
Minji rolled her eyes. “You know this is a party, right? Not a corporate meeting?”
“Still. I want to keep a low profile,” I said, picking up the black turtleneck dress. It was tight enough to show some curves but modest enough to feel professional, with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. “What about this?”
Minji tilted her head, considering. “It’s very you. Chic, understated, mysterious. And Yoongi’s probably going to notice you in it.”
I groaned. “Not everything is about Yoongi!“
Minji raised an eyebrow, smirking as she flopped onto the couch. “Oh, really? If it’s not about Yoongi, then why are you quoting him like he’s living rent-free in your head?”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Because it’s relevant! When I told him Hoseok invited me, Yoongi literally said, ‘But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.’ And yesterday, after we finished the song, he ended with, ‘See you Monday.’” I huffed. “He couldn’t have been clearer about not showing up.”
Minji snorted. “Wow. He really went out of his way to make sure you knew, huh?”
“Exactly.” I tossed the dress onto the bed. “So, can we drop this whole ‘Yoongi might surprise you at the party’ thing? It’s not happening.”
Minji held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No Yoongi talk. But honestly, he sounds so extra about it. Like, what’s his deal? You’re the one who didn’t even want to be there with him in the first place.”
“Exactly!” I said again, throwing my hands up. “I don’t even care if he shows up or not. This is supposed to be my break. I just want to go, enjoy the night, and pretend I don’t have deadlines hanging over my head for one evening.”
Minji smirked knowingly but didn’t say anything more as she got up to sift through her own options for the party. After a moment, she held up a red dress with a dramatic neckline and sparkling details. “What about this for me? It screams ‘I’m the fun friend.’”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t need a dress to say that. Everyone already knows.”
***
A little while later, we were both ready. Minji had gone with her glittery red dress, while I stuck to my black turtleneck one.
As we grabbed our things, Minji gave me a playful nudge. “Okay, so, final thoughts: what if Yoongi does show up, despite everything he said?”
I shot her a withering look. “Then I’ll eat my words. But that’s not happening.”
Minji grinned as we headed out the door. “We’ll see.”
*** The energy of the party was already palpable as Minji and I entered the venue. The music was loud enough to drown out any awkward thoughts, and the lighting cast a warm, celebratory glow. Before we could get our bearings, a familiar figure spotted us and made his way over with an enthusiastic wave.
“Welcome, welcome!” Hoseok beamed, his smile as bright as the room itself. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d ditch last minute.”
Minji laughed. “Not with you hosting, J-hope. She couldn’t say no.”
I shot her a quick glare but turned to Hoseok with a polite smile. “Thanks for inviting us.”
As we exchanged pleasantries, a small group approached him, each handing over neatly wrapped gifts or gift bags.
“Happy birthday, Hobi!” one of them exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before leaving the gift with him.
I blinked, taken aback. “Wait... birthday?” I turned to Hoseok, brows furrowed. “Is this... your birthday party?”
Hoseok gave me a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. Kind of.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”
“Of course, I didn’t,” he replied, laughing. “If I told you, you wouldn’t have come. Admit it!”
I opened my mouth to protest, then paused, realizing he wasn’t entirely wrong. “…Okay, fair. But now I feel terrible. I didn’t bring you anything.”
He waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Your presence is enough of a gift.”
Minji rolled her eyes playfully. “Wow, smooth.”
I ignored her, offering Hoseok a tentative smile. “Well, if that’s the case, I owe you dinner. My treat. Birthday special.”
Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock bow. “I’ll hold you to that.” As the party carried on, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Yoongi. If it was Hoseok’s birthday, then surely Yoongi would be here, right? They were bandmates, practically brothers. Despite everything he’d said, it felt impossible that he wouldn’t show up to celebrate.
Right?
Hoseok, catching my distracted expression, nudged me lightly. “Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.”
As Hoseok led me through the crowd, I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about Yoongi. I couldn’t help myself, though; the idea that he wasn’t here, despite everything, gnawed at me. Was he really just going to stay out of sight, like he’d said? Or had something else kept him away?
"Hey, over here," Hoseok called, his voice cutting through my thoughts as he pulled me toward the others. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Minji, the assistant and the manager of Producer K!"
The guys all turned to look, some with grins on their faces, others with more curious expressions. I gave a small wave, trying to maintain the composure I knew I needed for moments like this. Being around people like them—BTS—was something I wasn’t used to, but I was starting to adjust, or at least, I hoped I was.
"Y/N and Minji, huh? Nice to meet you," Jimin said first, flashing me a grin that lit up his whole face. "Hoseok's always talking about Producer K’s work. You must also be a pretty big deal if you’re working with him."
"Yeah, I've heard about his skills," Taehyung added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nice to meet some of the brains behind the scenes." He gave a slight bow, which I returned awkwardly.
"We've been hearing a lot about you guys," Namjoon said, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "It's nice to finally put a face to the names."
"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the mood light. "We just do our part in the background."
They all nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. But it was clear that Hoseok’s introduction had piqued their interest, and the attention felt overwhelming. I quickly shifted my gaze to see if Yoongi had come in yet, but the crowd was thick, and I didn’t spot him immediately.
"Minji," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low, "Do you think Yoongi’s coming?"
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hoping he does?"
I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed, nudging me playfully. "Relax, Y/N. If he’s coming, he’ll show up eventually. For now, just enjoy the party. You’ve earned it."
I sighed and nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Yoongi aside. There was no point in stressing over something I couldn’t control.
As the introductions continued, Hoseok pulled me into a more private corner of the room, away from the group for a moment. "You’re doing great," he said with a genuine smile. "I know this might feel like a lot, but you’re handling it well. The others are just excited to meet you. They’ve heard a lot about producer K."
"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised at his sudden encouragement. "I’m just trying to keep a low profile, honestly."
"Yeah, I get it," Hoseok nodded knowingly. "You know, though, if you want to meet some more people, I can introduce you around. You don’t have to worry about your identity being exposed here. "
I just nodded, grateful for his understanding. But part of me was still wondering, was Yoongi going to show up? Or had I been right all along? Was he truly not interested in stepping outside of the studio for something like this?
At that moment, Jungkook stepped over to join us. "What’s up, guys?" he said with a smile.
Hoseok grinned and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, you! This is Y/N, Producer K’s assistant. You’ve heard a lot about her, right?"
Jungkook looked at me, his expression slightly puzzled at first before breaking into a smile. "Ah, yeah, I’ve heard a little. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He gave a casual wave, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a slight smile.
Jungkook seemed to sense the tension in the air, glancing between Hoseok and me. "So, Hyung, who else did you invite?"
Hoseok grinned, looking around the room. "A lot more people, but ah, yes, Y/N—the only member you haven’t met yet is Jin. He’s in the military, so it’s just the rest of us holding down the fort tonight."
I nodded, trying to mask my surprise. "Ah, I didn’t realize. That must be tough for you guys."
Hoseok shrugged, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in his eyes. "Yeah, but it is what it is. We’re all proud of him, of course. We just miss him, that’s all."
Jungkook nodded in agreement. "It’s been a while, but we’ll manage. He’ll be back before we know it."
I felt a pang of empathy for them, understanding how difficult it must be to have someone so important absent from events like this. But the conversation quickly shifted as Hoseok directed it back to me.
"So, Y/N, now that you’ve met the guys, are you having fun? No pressure, just curious." He raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for my reaction.
I forced a smile, trying to get out of my own head. "Yeah, it’s been good. Just a little overwhelming."
"Totally understandable," Jungkook said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But don’t worry. It’s just a party. No big deal."
I chuckled softly, grateful for the small bit of comfort. But my thoughts still drifted back to Yoongi. Would he really not show up?
Just then, I spotted Minji on the dance floor, looking like she was having the time of her life. Without a second thought, I nudged Hoseok. "I think I need to join her," I said, already pushing my way through the crowd.
"Go ahead," Hoseok replied with a grin. "I’ll be around if you need anything."
I made my way over to Minji, and we quickly fell into the rhythm of the music, letting the beat carry us away. The drinks were flowing, and before I knew it, the atmosphere shifted into a carefree, almost electric vibe. As more people showed up, the party grew livelier, and from time to time, some of the BTS members would come over and join us on the dance floor. It was fun, it was wild, but... my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi.
Unable to hold it in any longer, I pulled Hoseok aside when I caught him by the bar. "Hey, Hoseok... Where’s Yoongi?"
Hoseok glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged. "Oh, he was here earlier, literally before you showed up. Now that you mention it, though, I haven’t seen him since."
I felt a strange mix of disappointment and... relief? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was better this way, but somehow, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing from the night.
Minji and I were having a blast, drink after drink, dance after dance. The music, the energy, everything was a blur of fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself enjoy the moment so freely, and for a while, it was exactly what I needed. But after a few more songs, I started to feel a little dizzy, the world spinning just slightly out of focus.
"Minji, I’m going to head somewhere quiet for a bit," I said, my voice a little unsteady. "I just need to lay down, get myself together. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?"
She shot me a playful grin, still bouncing to the beat. "Take care of yourself, girl! I’ll be here if you need me!"
With that, I slipped away from the dance floor, trying to stay steady on my feet. I remembered the studio I’d worked for the past weeks had a cosy sofa tucked away in one of its corners. It was the perfect place to rest for a bit until the dizziness passed.
I made my way to the studio, feeling the coolness of the hallway against my skin. The noise of the party seemed to fade as I pushed open the door, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes for a few moments, hoping to just let the room settle.
I was only half-aware of how long I’d been there when I heard the door creak open. My eyes fluttered open, and I instantly tensed. Had someone followed me in?
There, standing in the doorway, was Yoongi. He looked surprised to see me there, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze on me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone still as clipped as ever.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" I shot back. "I thought you weren't even coming to the party."
His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well I did. But, I don’t exactly need to announce my presence to everyone." His voice was colder than usual.
I bit my lip, frustration rising in my chest. "Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you're so indifferent about the party, why are you hiding out here?"
His shoulders tensed slightly as he crossed his arms in front of him while standing next to the coach, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Not hiding. Just... thinking." He sighed. "I could ask the same thing."
I crossed my arms too, feeling the heat of irritation flood my veins. "I’m just getting away from the noise for a bit, okay?"
He didn't seem convinced, his lips forming a faint, sarcastic smile. "Right. Just taking a break. From everything, including the party, in my studio huh?"
Before I could respond, the unease that had been building between us finally snapped thanks to the alcohol. I pushed past him, moving toward the door. "Fine, I’ll leave. You can have your privacy too, Yoongi."
I turned sharply, my frustration boiling over, and reached for the door. The cool metal handle felt solid beneath my fingers, offering a small comfort. But as soon as I used it to crack the door open, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. A hand shot out, and in one swift motion, Yoongi’s arm stretched across me, pushing the door shut and blocking my escape.
I froze, my pulse quickening as I felt the warmth of his body close behind me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a moment, caught in the tension of his presence. His arm hovered just inches from my face, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he braced himself against the door. I could feel the faint shift of air from his movement, the pressure of his proximity filling the space between us. He was so close, but he didn’t touch me.
His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his presence so tangible that it almost felt suffocating. I couldn’t help but stiffen, the tension in the air thick and heavy. My hand, still gripping the door handle, trembled slightly, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.
"Let go," I muttered, my voice low, tight with a mix of anger and something else that I couldn’t quite place.
But Yoongi didn’t budge. He was silent for a long moment, his body pressed just behind mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his every movement, his breath still brushing over the back of my neck.
"No," he said, his voice soft but firm’’...stay.” There was no hesitation in his tone, as though he had made up his mind about this. About me.
I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t. But I could hear the subtle shift in his tone. It wasn’t just the frustration from before—it was something else now. Something quieter.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers gripping the door handle as if it might ground me. "Why should I stay?"
Yoongi’s breath seemed to hitch at that, and he shifted slightly, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. "Because," he started slowly, his voice almost a murmur, "I didn’t tell you to leave."
His words were unexpected. I hadn’t anticipated this, whatever it was, this softness in his tone, this tension building between us.
I could feel myself bristling and I turned around to face him. "Why should I listen? You didn’t even want to work with me in the first place. Why should I stay here with you now?"
"Who told you that?"
His voice, quieter now when his eye caught mine, but the words still stung. "I overheard you that day, talking to Jihoon on the phone, during the first week. You said you should've argued harder with your company to not work with me... and you said it was because I’m a woman."
I could feel my chest tighten as the words left my lips. The tension in the air thickened, and before I knew it, I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Yoongi’s face faltered. His eyes softened.
"I didn’t say that." Yoongi's voice was quieter, almost apologetic now. "If you heard me properly that day... I said I knew you were talented. And I knew how much you value your privacy. I know this whole thing is risky for you. That’s why… if I had known you were a woman, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to work with you. I didn’t want to blow your cover or make you feel uncomfortable around me the whole time".
I blinked, my heart dropping. I felt like I had heard those words, but it was as if I hadn’t truly processed them until now. Not in that context. I could feel my breath catch in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. His words were so different from what I had thought. My mind was swirling, and before I could stop it, a few tears broke free and slid down my cheek.
Without a word, Yoongi stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek gently, his thumb swiping away the tears while holding my face.
I froze, staring up at him, unsure of what was happening, but the proximity, his nearness, was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and his touch was so soft it almost made my heart ache.
His eyes met mine again, searching, lingering. We were so close now. His breath mingled with mine as he looked down at me, and I could feel the heat between us.
"Can I..." He started, his voice low, almost hesitant, but before he could finish, the door suddenly jolted behind me.
I jumped, both of us stepping away instinctively, my heart racing. The air between Yoongi and me shattered in an instant.
It was Hoseok. He stepped inside, a playful grin on his face, but his eyes didn’t seem to notice me. "Yoongi! Where’s Y/N? She was looking out for you earlier, and then she just disappeared on me."
I couldn’t look at either of them. I just stood there, my back to the door, trying to breathe normally.
Hoseok stepped further into the room, a confused expression crossing his face as he noticed me and the way Yoongi was standing. He glanced between us, his gaze flicking back to Yoongi. "Everything good here?" he asked, sounding half-serious, half-playful.
I quickly moved, my cheeks flushed, and hurried out of the room, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Hoseok called after me, but I didn’t look back. I just needed to get away, to breathe, to think.
But as I walked away, I couldn’t stop the images of Yoongi’s eyes on me, his breath on my skin. What had just happened? I wasn’t sure, but my heart was pounding in my chest as I moved further from that room, from him. *** When I finally made it back to the party, I spotted Minji chatting away with Taehyung. She looked up and waved me over, her usual bright energy making her stand out. But I couldn’t shake the feeling from earlier. Yoongi's words, his actions. I knew I needed to leave.
"Minji," I said, cutting through the conversation. "We need to go." She blinked, surprised at the abruptness of my tone, but nodded without questioning me. I turned to Taehyung, who had been listening to Minji ramble on, with a smile on his face.
"Tell Hoseok I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I'll see him again soon," I said, my voice steady. "And remind him that I still owe him that dinner."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just gave me a knowing smile. "Alright, take care. I’ll let him know."
Minji and I made our way out of the venue, the lights of the party fading as we stepped into the cool night air. The moment we were in a taxi, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
Minji glanced at me, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief as she read me like an open book. “Wow. So you did meet him. What happened? Tell me everything. Now."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You’re relentless, you know that?"
Minji threw me a playful look. "You're not getting away with it. I need to know all the details. Was it awkward? Did he talk to you? What did he say? Was it... was it like, a moment?"
I groaned, leaning back against the headrest. "Honestly, it was... complicated." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "We had a bit of an argument, and then, out of nowhere, he blocked the door when I tried to leave. He didn’t want me to go. And then, he... he said some things. I don’t know. Things about me being a woman, about my privacy... It just felt like it was all crashing down in one moment."
Minji’s face shifted from excitement to concern. "Wait, what? He said what about your privacy?"
I sighed deeply, recalling the mix of emotions from that moment. "I told him I overheard him on the phone saying he didn't want to work with me because I was a woman. I was mad. And I think I was hurt, too. He didn’t deny it. He said... he said that he knows I’m talented and that he wouldn’t have worked with me if he knew I was a girl because it could’ve blown my cover. I... I didn’t know what to think."
Minji stared at me, processing everything I’d just said. "Wow. That’s a lot. But it sounds like he really didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I mean, he doesn’t want to blow your cover, and he’s not the type to just say stuff for no reason. I think he might’ve been trying to protect you in his own way."
I shook my head, still not fully understanding it all. "Maybe. But it doesn’t make it easier. He’s so confusing, Minji. One minute, he’s mad at me, then we’re... closer than I thought. I don’t even know if I want to deal with it."
Minji placed a hand on mine, her expression softening. "You’re allowed to be confused. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. He’s not the only one with walls up, you know? You’ve got yours too."
I sighed, leaning back again. "Yeah, but this... this is different. He’s not supposed to make me feel like this."
Minji didn’t say anything at first, but then she shrugged slightly. "Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do."
Her words were comforting, even though I wasn’t sure if I agreed. I wanted to know what Yoongi wanted from me, if anything. But for now, I had to focus on what came next.
***
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was moving through a fog. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol from the night before or the confusion swirling around my thoughts, but I had to get up, get ready, and go to work. It was just another day. I was a professional, after all.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened between Yoongi and I the night before. The words, the tension, the way he blocked the door... It all felt like a surreal dream now. I quickly pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. I’d told Minji last night that I wouldn’t mention it again. That was the plan. I was going to walk in, act normal, and get through this day like nothing had happened. I had a job to do.
I dressed quickly, choosing something that felt both comfortable and professional, jeans and a simple blouse. Nothing too attention-grabbing. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I headed out.
The drive to the studio was quiet, my mind a little too preoccupied with what I’d left behind. I thought about texting Minji again, but I didn’t want to be that person who overanalysed everything. I’d deal with it.
The moment I stepped into the studio, I immediately spotted Yoongi, already seated at the desk, headphones on, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. The familiar quiet hum of the place seemed to swallow up any lingering awkwardness between us.
I set my bag down on the sofa and made my way over to the desk, trying to appear as casual as possible. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes flicker briefly in my direction, but he didn’t acknowledge me right away. That was fine. No need for anything weird to happen today. I wasn’t going to let it.
“Morning,” I said, offering a neutral smile, willing myself to act as though last night had never even happened.
Yoongi just nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Morning."
I took my seat and opened my notebook, flipping through the pages as if the routine of it all would help settle the tension that had been gnawing at me since our confrontation the night before. The silence between us felt a little less suffocating, though. It wasn’t that we were talking more, it was just that Yoongi didn’t seem as harsh on his tone today. No biting comments yet, no sharp observations either.
He adjusted the volume on the speakers and clicked around on the computer for a few seconds before speaking again. "You finished that beat you were working on Saturday?"
“Yeah, it’s done,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were focused on the screen, but I noticed there was a slight change in his demeanour. The tension from before, the coldness, seemed to have faded. It wasn’t gone completely, but it was much more subtle now.
He didn’t respond immediately, just tapped a few keys on the keyboard before nodding. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”
I slid the flash drive with the updated track across the table. Yoongi took it, plugged it into the system, and started the track without a word. The room filled with the sound of the beat I had been perfecting, and I waited, watching his reaction closely.
As the beat played, Yoongi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t make any negative comments this time. He just let the track play all the way through, his eyes scanning the waveform on the screen, listening intently.
When the track ended, he leaned back in his chair, finally looking over at me. “Not bad.”
I couldn’t help but feel a small relief wash over me. "Not bad" from Yoongi was a compliment, even if it didn’t sound like one. At least he hadn’t outright criticized it.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel my nerves creeping back up again. “Anything you want me to change?”
Yoongi scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a little too clean. Add some grit, something to make it stand out more. We need it to hit harder.”
I nodded, taking mental notes. “Got it. I’ll work on that.”
It felt almost normal, the way we interacted. No lingering animosity, no mention of what had happened the night before.
As the session continued, the vibe between us remained steady, calm and professional, with just a touch of the underlying tension we hadn’t addressed. We worked for hours, tweaking the track here and there, going back and forth on the sound and rhythm until everything was just the way we wanted it.
At some point, Yoongi stood up and stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want anything?”
I blinked, surprised. He’d never offered to get me anything before, not like this. His tone was casual, though, like it was no big deal.
“I’ll take an iced coffee,” I said, half-smiling at the unexpected gesture.
Yoongi didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked out of the studio. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t like everything was magically fixed, but there was something about this new, less tense dynamic that felt... better. More comfortable, even.
As I sat back in my chair, I tried to focus on the track again, but my mind kept drifting. What has changed between us? I knew I wasn’t imagining it, there was definitely something different today. But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
When Yoongi came back with the coffee, we fell back into the routine of the session, but now, it felt almost easy. We were working smoothly, and I caught him glancing over at me once or twice, his eyes lingering a little longer than before.
Still, neither of us brought up what happened the night before. Not yet. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Or maybe it was something neither of us wanted to revisit.
***
As the day came to a close, I packed up my things, feeling the weight of the day lifting off my shoulders. I had managed to get through the session with Yoongi without any more awkwardness, which was a small victory in itself. As I grabbed my bag, I looked over at Yoongi, who was already absorbed in his work again.
“See you tomorrow,” I said casually, ready to leave the studio.
Yoongi gave me a small nod, his focus not wavering. “Yeah, see you.”
I left the studio and stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off everything that had happened with Yoongi.
I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text to Hoseok.
Y/N: Hey, are you free tonight?
Hoseok: Yeah, I’m free. What’s up?
Y/N: I told you I owe you dinner. Want to grab some barbecue tonight?
Hoseok: Haha, of course I didn’t forget! Even Taehyung reminded me about it last night after you left! So yeah, sure, let’s do it. When and where?
Y/N: How about at 7 at that popular spot in Gangnam?
Hoseok: Perfect! I’ll see you there. I’ll be starving by the time we meet!
Y/N: Same here. I’m ready to eat my weight in meat.
Hoseok: Haha, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N!
Y/N: See you soon!
I smiled as I read our conversation. Hoseok had a way of lightening the mood, and the idea of spending the evening with him, laughing and eating good food, felt like the perfect way to unwind.
When I arrived at the restaurant, the smell of grilled meat hit me as soon as I stepped inside. I scanned the room for Hoseok and spotted him right away. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking up at me with a wide smile as always.
"Y/N!" he greeted me, standing up to wave as I approached.
"Helloo!" I said with a grin, taking my seat across from him.
He immediately grabbed the menu, flipping through it. "So, what are you in the mood for? Meat, meat, and more meat?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
"Definitely," I replied, laughing. "I’ve been craving barbecue all day."
We both ordered a few different cuts of meat, and as we waited for the grill to heat up, Hoseok leaned back in his chair, looking at me curiously.
"So, what happened last night?" he asked casually, the question catching me a bit off guard.
I hesitated for a second, my fingers tapping on the table. "What do you mean?" I asked, pretending not to understand what he was getting at.
"You know... I could tell something was a little off when you left the party, after i caught you with Yoongi at the studio.." Hoseok said, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Everything okay between you two?”
I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything’s fine," I said, though the words didn’t feel entirely true. "We finished the first song. Two more to go, and then we’ll be done."
Hoseok didn’t seem convinced. He nodded and took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re making progress. But, uh... are you sure everything’s okay with him? You know... since you’ve been working really closely together."
I looked down at my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "It’s fine, Hoseok. Really. Just... we have our days, you know?"
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. "If you say so."
The food arrived, and the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill distracted us both for a moment. Hoseok was quick to start cooking, flipping the pieces of meat with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I could already feel my stomach growling in anticipation.
We continued to eat, talk, and laugh, the mood light and easy. Hoseok was a great conversationalist. We talked about music, our favourite songs, and his plans for the future. It felt so natural, like we’d known each other for years instead of just a month.
At one point, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, I’d like you to hear something," he said, tapping away at the screen. A moment later, his phone was playing a new track, a smooth, upbeat melody that instantly grabbed my attention.
"This is one of my newer tracks," Hoseok said, watching me closely as the music played. "I’m really proud of it so far, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me. "This is really good, Hoseok," I said, smiling. "It’s got such a great vibe. It’s... it’s got that perfect energy."
He grinned, clearly pleased with the feedback. "Thanks. I’m hoping it’s going to be a hit. But, you know, it’s not finished yet. Still got a bit of work to do."
"Well, I’d be happy to help with anything you need," I said, my tone sincere. "I think you’re on the right track. I can already picture it in a club."
"Yeah? You’re the expert," he said, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. "Maybe I should bring you on as a collaborator someday."
I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion. "Collaborator? That would be interesting."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "I’m just saying... if you’re up for it…"
"Maybe," I teased, taking a sip of my drink.
As the night went on, we continued to enjoy the barbecue, the conversation flowing easily between us. It was a welcome distraction from the confusion that had been hanging over me lately. It was hard not to feel at ease around Hoseok. He was kind, funny, and genuine in a way that made me feel like I could let my guard down.
Eventually, after we’d eaten our fill and were lounging in our seats, Hoseok pulled out his phone again. "Come on, let’s take a photo," he suggested, grinning. "You know, for the memories."
I nodded with a smile and he grabbed his phone, opening the camera. We both leaned in, the grill between us, holding our drinks up like we were toasting. "Best birthday gift ever," Hoseok said dramatically as the picture snapped, before quickly typing something into his phone.
"Done!" he said proudly. "I posted it to my close friends on Kakao Talk. You know, just in case anyone wants to know how I spent my special days."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re crazy."
"I know," he said with a wink, taking another drink from his glass. "But seriously, Y/N, this has been fun. Thanks for asking me to come out tonight. You’re a lot of fun to hang out with."
I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "Of course. I’m glad we did this. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a night like this myself."
"Same here," Hoseok said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime."
As the night wound down to an end, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. It had been a good night, and it felt like I’d finally had a chance to breathe again. The pressure I’d been carrying, the weight of my thoughts about Yoongi and everything that had happened, seemed to lighten a little as I had sat there across from Hoseok, laughing and eating with no other worries.
When the bill arrived, I was quick to grab it, remembering my promise. "It’s on me tonight," I said, pulling my card out before Hoseok could protest. I shook my head, giving him a playful look. "I owe you dinner, remember?"
He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your moment." He watched me pay, his expression softening into something more genuine. "But next time, I’m the one picking the place and bill."
"Deal," I said, with a smirk. "But only if it’s something equally as good as tonight."
"Haha, I’ll try," he replied, still laughing.
As we walked out of the restaurant, we decided that the evening had been a success, and that we would definitely plan another time to hang out. It was nice to have a real moment with him, away from all the stress and confusion, it had been exactly what I needed, an evening of laughter, food, and friendship. And for that, I was thankful. ***
The next day, I walked into the studio feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My relationship with Yoongi seemed to had softened after yesterday, and dinner with Hoseok had been a bright spot in an otherwise chaotic schedule. I was ready to tackle the second track with a fresh perspective.
As always, Yoongi was already in the studio when I arrived, sitting at the mixing desk, adjusting levels with his usual quiet focus. He acknowledged me with a small nod as I set up my things. His demeanour seemed normal at first, calm and business like.
We dove into the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. At first, everything felt fine, normal even. But as the hours ticked by, Yoongi’s feedback became sharper, his tone more clipped.
“Can you take this seriously?” he snapped suddenly after I made a suggestion about the arrangement.
I looked up, startled. “I am taking this seriously. What’s going on with you today? You seemed fine yesterday.”
“Nothing’s going on,” he said curtly, not looking at me. His fingers tapped at the keyboard with more force than necessary. “You just need to focus more on the job you’re supposed to do.”
I frowned, confused by his sudden change in attitude. “We’re making progress,” I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m confident we’ll meet the deadline.”
Yoongi spun his chair to face me, his eyes narrowing. “If you really cared about the deadline, you would focus on the work instead of going out to dinner with Hoseok and wasting your energy there.”
His words hit like a slap. I blinked, completely taken aback. “How do you even know about the dinner?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He posted it on Kakao Talk. All the guys were talking about it in the group chat.”
I froze, trying to process what he was saying. Of course Hoseok had shared it, but it was a perfectly innocent dinner, and he’d been excited about it. Still, I felt a strange pang of guilt under Yoongi’s intense gaze.
“I invited him because I felt bad about going to his birthday party without bringing a gift,” I explained, my voice steady but defensive. “I just wanted to make up for it.”
Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable. “It’s interesting,” he said coolly, “how close you are with him. I’m the one you work with every day. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you?”
I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Before I could gather my thoughts, Yoongi waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to work.”
The room fell into an awkward silence. I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to make sense of his reaction, but his posture was closed off, his focus fully on the screen in front of him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my notes and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The rest of the session felt strained. Yoongi’s usual calm, measured feedback was replaced with sharp, almost impatient remarks. It wasn’t just the work, something else was clearly bothering him, but I couldn’t figure out what.
Then, halfway through a take, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. Without a word, he stood and began gathering his things.
“What’s going on?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.
“Nothing,” he said shortly, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s cut this short today.”
“Yoongi—” I started, but he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his tone final.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the studio. I stared at the door for a long moment, my emotions a mix of confusion and frustration. Whatever had just happened felt personal, even though I couldn’t understand why.
As I packed up my things, my mind kept circling back to his words, to the way he’d looked at me. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you? What did that even mean? Why did it sound like he cared, like it bothered him?
Shaking my head, I gathered my bag and left the studio. No matter how much I wanted to make sense of it, I wasn’t going to let Yoongi’s mood derail the progress we were making, or my own peace of mind. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t about to let this strange tension get in the way.
*** The next day, Yoongi and I exchanged only a few words when I arrived at the studio. His mood seemed calmer than yesterday, though still a little distant. I decided not to push it.
We worked steadily through the day, both of us falling into the rhythm of our tasks. It wasn’t awkward, just focused, like two professionals determined to meet their goal. The hours passed in a blur of music, notes, and adjustments. By the time Yoongi looked up from the computer, his face was lit with mild surprise.
“Ah, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock. “It’s late,” rubbing the back of his neck. “We should stop here for today. It’s good progress.”
I nodded and stood up, but as soon as I tried to take a step, my legs wobbled beneath me. I reached out to steady myself against the desk, my vision spinning slightly.
Yoongi was already on his feet, stepping toward me with concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I think I’m just a little dizzy. Now that I think about it… I didn’t even eat lunch.”
Without a word, he reached for my wrist and tugged gently. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, caught off guard. “Go where?”
“To eat,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I tried to protest as he led me out of the studio and toward his car. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll grab something on the way home.”
Yoongi ignored me, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, and he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I glanced at him a few times, wondering why he was going out of his way like this, but his expression was unreadable.
We arrived at a small, cosy restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. Yoongi parked the car and got out without a word, waiting for me to follow.
Inside, the warm lighting and inviting atmosphere made me relax a little. We were seated at a corner table, and soon, the smell of grilled meat and savoury dishes filled the air.
“About yesterday,” he started, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
I glanced up, momentarily stunned. He wasn’t looking at me; instead, his gaze was fixed on his plate, as if the words were hard to push out.
“I was out of line,” he admitted, exhaling sharply, almost like the confession itself was a weight lifted.
I blinked, my chopsticks hovering mid-air. Yoongi rarely, if ever, admitted fault. This was unexpected.
“I took a lot of things out on you,” he continued, his tone laced with a hint of self-reproach. His chopsticks moved idly, pushing food around on his plate as if it could somehow distract him from the vulnerability of the moment. “Things that weren’t your fault. And for that, I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasn’t the stoic, sharp-tongued producer I’d been working with for weeks. This was Yoongi stripped of his usual defences, and it threw me off balance.
“You... You’re apologizing?” I finally said, a mix of disbelief and teasing slipping into my tone.
His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I mean, how can I not?” I said, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms in mock astonishment. “Min Yoongi admitting he’s wrong? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”
Despite his attempt at brushing it off, I could tell the apology mattered to him. He wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and the effort behind his words wasn’t lost on me.
“Look,” he continued after a moment, his voice steadying. “Yesterday... I just have been under a lot of pressure, and I let it get to me. That wasn’t fair to you. You’ve been working hard, and I should’ve recognized that.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer now. “That means a lot.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us melting away. As the meal went on, we started to relax, trading small talk about work and life. Yoongi even ordered a bottle of wine, and soon we were sipping glasses of it, the conversation growing lighter.
For the first time, it felt like I was seeing a different side of him, one that wasn’t guarded or buried in his work. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the studio, the deadlines, and everything else that had been hanging over us.
By the end of the night, my cheeks ached from laughing, a rare, warm contentment spreading through me. Yoongi had surprised me, not just with his apology, but with the way he let his guard down, even if just a little. Maybe he wasn’t as closed off as I’d assumed. Maybe there was more to him than I’d ever expected.
As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted us. "Hey, you can’t drive now since you’ve had a drink," I said, glancing at Yoongi. "Should we call a taxi or something? Or maybe Hobi? I saw his stories, he was bored at home, he could probably come pick us up."
Yoongi’s expression shifted, and he immediately shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll handle it. I’m calling Jihoon." I raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment but let it slide. The warmth from the alcohol in my system faded quickly, leaving me shivering slightly in the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.
Yoongi noticed. “It’s getting cold,” he said, almost to himself. Before I could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
The unexpected gesture made me pause. The weight of the jacket and the faint scent of his cologne caught me off guard. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.
He waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m not cold.”
I tilted my head, sceptical. “Really? Your hands must be freezing,” I said, blowing warm air over my own hands and rubbing them together in a futile attempt to warm them.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to my hands, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his hands gently over mine. The sudden warmth of his touch stopped me in my tracks.
His hands were warm, enveloping mine completely. I glanced up at him, startled. He didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on mine, intense yet unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there, connected by something unspoken.
My breath hitched, the moment heavy with tension neither of us dared to break. But before it could go any further, the sound of a taxi pulling up snapped us back to reality.
“Jihoon’s here,” Yoongi said, his voice steady as he stepped back, letting my hands go.
I quickly pulled my hands behind my back, hiding the tingling warmth that lingered from his touch. Jihoon stepped out of the car, waving casually as he approached.
“Thanks for coming,” Yoongi said, handing him the keys to his car.
“No problem,” Jihoon replied with a grin. “You guys look like you had a good night.”
Yoongi nodded and gestured for me to get in the backseat. He opened the door for me, waiting until I was seated before climbing in beside me.
The ride was quiet, with Jihoon humming along to the radio in the front seat. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling as I replayed the events of the night. The warmth of Yoongi’s jacket around my shoulders and the memory of his hands over mine lingered, leaving me more confused than ever.
Unable to resist, I flicked my gaze toward him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw catching my attention. Why does he have to look like that? My eyes drifted downward, landing on his hands resting casually on his lap. Those veiny, capable hands that had so effortlessly wrapped around mine earlier.
My face grew warm as I recalled the moment, a rush of heat spreading through me. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly snapped my gaze back to the window, determined not to look at him again for the rest of the ride. ‘Focus on something else, anything else,’ I told myself, even as my heart stubbornly refused to settle. When we pulled up in front of my place, Jihoon parked smoothly, and Yoongi stepped out of the car before I could say anything. He stood there for a moment, looking composed as ever, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
“Bye,” he said simply, his voice even but low enough to make my stomach flip. “See you tomorrow.”
I managed a small smile. “Okay. Bye.”
He watched me walk to my door, and when I turned back for a second, he was already getting back into the car. Jihoon gave a small wave before driving off, leaving me standing there, suddenly alone.
Once inside, I leaned against the door, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a whirlwind. Dinner, the jacket, his hands over mine... It was all too much. I sighed, pulling the jacket off to hang it up, only to freeze mid-motion.
“Oh no.” My voice echoed in the quiet space. His jacket. I still had it.
I grabbed my phone, typing quickly.
Me: I just realized I still have your jacket. Did you guys leave already?
His reply came faster than I expected.
Yoongi: It’s fine. You can give it back another day.
I stared at the screen, his words making me bite my lip. For a moment, I debated responding, but what else was there to say? Sighing, I put my phone down and folded the jacket neatly. The faint scent of him lingered, a mix of something warm and clean, distinctly Yoongi.
I groaned softly, shaking my head. “Don’t overthink it.”
But as I walked away, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, my flushed cheeks betraying my effort to play it cool. ***
The next day, everything felt smoother. The tension from the past week seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a productive atmosphere in the studio. Yoongi and I worked through the second track effortlessly, the beats and lyrics falling into place with surprising speed. By lunchtime, we had made significant progress, and the track was nearly perfect. Yoongi gave a brief nod of approval before leaning back in his chair.
"One more to go," he said, his tone casual, but I could tell he was feeling a sense of accomplishment too.
Just then, the door to the studio opened with a loud creak, and Hoseok walked in, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted us.
"Hey, look at you two," he said, his voice light. "I come in, and it’s all quiet. Something going on huh?"
Yoongi and I exchanged a glance. "The second track is done, so we're almost there. One more track, and the album’s done."
Hoseok leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening slightly. "Damn, it’s hard to believe we’re almost there." His eyes flickered toward Yoongi, then back at me. "I’m excited, but... also a little nervous. You know, with everything happening soon."
I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What’s going on? What are you talking about?"
Hoseok sighed dramatically, walking further into the room. "Well, since you two are now so close to wrapping up, I need to tell you something." He sat down on the edge of a nearby desk, his eyes locking on me. "I’m going to the military soon."
For a moment, there was silence as I processed the information. My stomach dropped slightly as the reality of it set in. "Wait, you’re leaving already?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could think.
Hoseok smiled gently, his eyes a little softer than usual. "Yeah. It’s going to happen soon. So..." He leaned forward, his tone turning playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "I’m going to use that to guilt-trip you two into hanging out with me tomorrow night. I’m hosting a little get-together at my place. Come along, since you’ve worked hard on this album, you deserve a break. You know you want to. Let’s have one last hurrah before I disappear for a while."
Yoongi, who had been silent until now, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "You really think you can just guilt-trip us into going out?"
Hoseok nodded with a sly grin. "Yup. It’s my last chance to make you guys hang out with me before I go. Please?" He looked at both of us, his expression softening, almost pleading.
Yoongi shot me a glance, and I shrugged. "I mean, we’re done with the second track, so it wouldn’t hurt to let loose for a night."
Yoongi looked hesitant for a moment, but Hoseok wasn’t backing down. "Come on, it’s just one night. You can relax and have some fun. Besides, you two need a break, right?"
I chuckled, the tension in the room starting to melt. "Alright, alright. I’ll come, Hoseok. You don’t need to keep trying to guilt-trip us." Yoongi also nodded.
Hoseok’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t regret it. I’m inviting a few people, and we’ll just hang out, eat, talk, maybe play some games."
Yoongi grunted, but there was no denying the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Fine. One night. But don’t expect us to get drunk or anything."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Who said anything about getting drunk? I just want to spend some time together, that’s all. We’re all so busy, and before you know it, I’ll be gone."
He was right. As much as we all had our own things to focus on, this was a moment to come together before everything changed. And honestly, after working so hard on the album, I could use a little time to relax.
"Alright, we’re in. What time should we be there?" I asked, already feeling a little more at ease about it.
"7 PM. Don’t be late," Hoseok said with a wink. "I’m going to make sure there’s food, so just come hungry."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "See you tomorrow, then."
As Hoseok left the studio, I glanced over at Yoongi, who was already back to his work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite everything, the day had been productive, and now we were going to take some time for ourselves. I didn’t know how often I’d get moments like these, where things felt normal, light and easy.
"Guess we’re going to Hoseok’s," I said, trying to keep things casual.
Yoongi gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always, but there was a faint sense of relaxation in his posture. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered again, almost as if to convince himself.
***
The next day, Yoongi and I had somehow hit a streak, two days in a row of working together without any tension. We finished everything we had planned for the day, and as the evening rolled around, we were both in a surprisingly good mood.
As the last song for the day played out, I looked up from my computer and caught Yoongi’s eye.
"Guess that’s a wrap for today," I said, stretching out my arms. "See you at the party, yeah?"
Yoongi gave me a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, see you there."
I stood up to grab my things, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. It had been a long time since we’d gotten along this well, and I wasn’t going to overthink it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to relax.
"Try not to get too drunk," I teased lightly as I started toward the door.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Could say the same thing to you.” "Uh-huh," I shot back, laughing as I left the room. "Sure."
As I walked out, I could feel the lightness in my step. For once, it felt like things were moving in the right direction. The night ahead felt full of possibilities, even if it was just hanging out with the rest of the team.
When I got home, I quickly changed into something casual, not wanting to overdo it for Hoseok’s party. I kept it simple, a pair of jeans and a loose top. Around 7 PM, I made my way to Hoseok’s place, and when I arrived, I found the others already there.
The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, the smell of food filling the air. The place was buzzing with laughter and easy conversation. I caught sight of Yoongi sitting at the corner of the room, his usual calm demeanour in place, but there was something different about him tonight. His hair was styled, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to fit him just right, accentuating his broad shoulders. There was an easy confidence in his posture, and as I studied him for a moment, I realized he looked… hot.
I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to get caught staring. The last thing I needed was to get all flustered over him again. I turned my attention to the rest of the room and spotted Hoseok in the middle of a conversation with a few other guests. He seemed to be doing his usual thing, laughing and talking animatedly, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt just yet.
Instead, I made my way over to where Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were chatting near the food table. They were all mid-laugh when I approached, and Jungkook waved me over with a grin.
“Y/N! Come join us, we were just talking about the new choreography for a music video,” he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oh? What is it about this choreography?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Taehyung leaned in with a mischievous grin. “We’re learning this really complicated move that involves, like, spinning and flipping, but it looks ridiculous when we try it,” he said, laughing.
Jimin jumped in. “Taehyung’s over-exaggerating, it’s not that bad. But we’re definitely working on something new for the next video, and it’s going to be fun.”
“Yeah, we’re going to have to rehearse a lot,” Jungkook added with a playful smirk. “Taehyung might need extra practice though,” he teased.
I chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll all manage. You guys are pros, after all.”
Taehyung pouted but then grinned again. “Yeah, but you should see us try. We look like a bunch of drunk chickens. Maybe we’ll film it for behind-the-scenes footage.”
“Please do, I’d love to see that,” I replied, laughing along with them.
As we were talking, I noticed Hoseok making his way over with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands together and announced, “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a drinking game! Who’s in? It’s going to be fun, I promise!”
Jimin immediately jumped up, grinning. “I’m in! Let’s do this!”
“Count me in too,” Taehyung said, raising his hand. “I’m ready to win this game.”
I glanced at Jungkook, who gave a playful nod. “Let’s go. This should be interesting.”
With that, the four of us headed over to the designated table where the drinks were already set up. Hoseok was already grinning, ready to start the game, and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited about just having fun and not overthinking things.
The game started with some light-hearted activities, rapid-fire questions, and silly tasks that made everyone laugh. It was a great way to break the ice, and before long, we were all feeling more relaxed, enjoying the playful atmosphere.
Then, the game shifted into something a bit more daring: Love Shots. The concept was simple: when the bottle spun, it landed on a couple who had to take a shot together. The catch? You had to show the best “couple moment” before drinking.
I glanced around at everyone as the bottle spun, my heart racing a little at the thought of it landing on someone I knew. Of course, it landed on me and Hoseok first. He flashed me a grin that was as mischievous as it was charming.
"Well, looks like we're the first couple for the night, huh?" he said, winking.
I laughed and leaned in slightly. "Guess so. Let’s make this quick, yeah?"
We took our shot in sync, laughing after, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Hoseok’s eyes sparkled when he was having fun. It made me a little giddy.
The game continued, and once again, the bottle spun, this time landing on Hoseok and me again. A few people around the table groaned, teasing us about being the “official couple.” We just grinned at each other, ready for the next round.
I quickly glanced over at Yoongi, who had been quiet all night, sitting at the table but not participating. He wasn’t drinking either. His gaze was locked on Hoseok and me, and there was a strange tension in his expression. He wasn’t judging, but he wasn’t engaging either. It was hard to ignore, and I wondered if he was actually bothered by us being partnered up for the game.
Earlier, I had briefly talked to him when the game first started. I asked why he wasn’t drinking, and he had simply said, “Not feeling like it tonight.” There was something about his tone that made me want to ask more, but I didn’t push it. He wasn’t the type to open up unless he was ready.
"Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn again!" Taehyung called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on Hoseok and me again. We both burst into laughter, but this time I noticed Yoongi’s eyes briefly flicker towards us. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak either. He just observed, his hands folded in front of him as the game carried on.
Hoseok, being a bit more playful, shot me a grin and said, “Guess we’re really the perfect couple, huh?”
I smirked, playing along. “Yeah, looks like I’m stuck with you, Hobi.”
We drank again, and I could feel the warmth of the alcohol creeping through me, loosening my nerves and making everything feel lighter. But despite the fun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Yoongi’s quiet presence at the table was adding a certain weight to the game. His lack of participation made the contrast between us even more noticeable.
The game finally came to an end after what felt like hours of spinning bottles and laughing until our sides hurt. But as the night wore on, a lot of people were either passed out, waiting for their turn, or feeling too sleepy to continue. I noticed the energy in the room starting to wind down, and with work to do tomorrow, I figured it was best to leave.
I stood up, scanning the room for Hoseok. I spotted him laughing with a few of the other guests, his eyes bright and full of energy despite the late hour. I made my way over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
“Hey, Hobi,” I said, offering him a warm smile. “I think I’m going to head out now. I’ve got work tomorrow.”
Hoseok turned to me with a disappointed but understanding expression. “Aww, already? Well, it was really fun having you here. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I shook my head, grateful for the offer but knowing he had a lot of guests to attend to. “Nah, you stay and enjoy. I’ll just grab a taxi. I’ll be fine.”
Before Hoseok could respond, there was a shift in the air. Yoongi, who had been quiet all evening, stood up suddenly from his spot at the table. His voice was calm, but his words caught us both off guard.
“I’m leaving. I’ll take Y/N with me,” he said, tone firm but casual.
The room fell a bit quieter at his declaration. Hoseok blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Yoongi to step in. There was an unspoken tension as we all stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react.
I quickly turned to Hoseok, offering him one last smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks for everything tonight.”
Hoseok smiled back, still a little surprised by Yoongi’s sudden intervention, but he nodded. “Alright, take care. See you soon.”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I quickly made my way toward the door, following Yoongi. I couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. What just happened? Why did Yoongi suddenly decide to take me home?
“Yoongi, wait up!” I called out, catching up to him as he made his way outside.
Yoongi was already ahead, his long strides purposeful. When I caught up with him, I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… you didn’t have to do this, you know…”
He didn’t look at me as he continued walking, but his voice was calm. “It’s fine. You’re not going to take a taxi alone this late. It’s safer this way.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something in the way he said it that made me not want to push back. Instead, I just followed him outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we made our way to the car.
I had no idea what this meant, or what was running through Yoongi’s mind, but for now, I was just grateful that he had decided to take me home.
The drive back home was quiet but comfortable, with only the hum of the car filling the space between us. It wasn’t awkward, though. There was something peaceful about it, something unspoken that made the silence feel easy.
When we arrived at my apartment block, Yoongi stepped out of the car first, walking around to open the door for me.
“Thanks,” I said softly, already preparing to say my goodbyes as I stepped out.
But before I could, Yoongi spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. “Actually… Can I have my jacket back?”
I blinked in confusion, not entirely sure I’d heard him right. “Seriously?” I asked, laughing a little at the unexpected request. “You’re really asking for it back now?”
He glanced at me with a small shrug, his eyes hiding whatever thoughts were going through his mind. “It’s cold,” he said simply.
I let out a sigh. “Okay, follow me. I took it from the dry cleaners today, and I was planning on bringing it to you tomorrow.”
I stepped inside my apartment, Yoongi following and standing halfway between the living room and the corridor. I quickly scanned the room, searching for the bag with the jacket in it. The silence stretched on as I fumbled through a few things, but Yoongi broke it, his voice unexpectedly blunt.
“So, you and Hobi, huh?”
I paused for a second, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What about me and Hobi?”
“Well, all the dinners, the flirting today with the love shots… is there anything I should know about?” His gaze was steady, but I could see something flicker in his eyes.
I shook my head, trying to keep my tone light. “No, we’re just friends. He’s actually a nice person who respects me and my work.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just me overthinking things, but Yoongi’s next words caught me off guard. “But I thought these past few days we were on good terms as well.”
I felt a little defensive at that. “But I’m not working with Hobi. I’m not under a contract with him.”
Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied. “Besides all that, I still felt like we could be more than just coworkers.”
I blinked, not sure if I understood him right. “What? Do you want us to be friends?” I joked, trying to deflect the tension.
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I continued “Do you even hear yourself right now? If I had told Min Yoongi two months ago that he’d be asking me to be friends, he would’ve laughed in my face.”
Yoongi’s expression darkened for a moment. “Hell no, I don’t want to be friends with you.”
I crossed my arms, trying to hide the sudden heat rising to my cheeks. “Pff, then I don’t want to be friends with you either,” I shot back, scoffing. “Besides, you’re the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one sulking about me being friends with Hobi and not with you.”
Yoongi’s eyes flickered with irritation. “I’m not sulking because you are friends with him, I am because you are close to a guy that’s not me.” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
Yoongi took a step closer, his expression darkening. “Let’s cut the crap. You’re telling me that after everything that’s been happening these past two months, the tension, the lingering touches… you never felt anything?” His eyes were locked onto mine, searching for something in them.
My breath hitched in my throat, but before I could respond, he continued. “And after what happened at Hobi’s birthday party… you didn’t move away from me. Hell, you were practically begging me to kiss you with the way you were looking at me. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it too.”
I froze, my mind racing, trying to process his words. I hadn’t expected him to bring up that night, let alone accuse me of anything. My pulse quickened as I searched his face, unsure of what to say. Yoongi watched me closely, waiting for my response, but all I could do was stare at him, caught in the web of his words.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, stepping back slightly, trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding in my chest. Yoongi’s gaze was intense, his expression unreadable, and I couldn’t help but feel exposed under the weight of his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining all of this? I didn’t want to admit it, but everything he said was starting to make sense, whether I liked it or not.
Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied with my denial. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine with a new intensity. “Oh really?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a hint of something sharper in it now. “Then tell me to stop.”
Before I could process the situation, before I could even think about what to say, he was on me. His lips crashed into mine with a sudden force that caught me off guard. The kiss was hard, desperate, as if he was trying to prove something to both of us. His hands gripped my arms firmly, pulling me in closer.
For a few seconds, I froze, not sure how to respond. His lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my mind race, but my body just… didn’t react. I couldn’t. My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts tangled in confusion. Was this real? Was he really kissing me?
Yoongi pulled back suddenly, his hands dropping from my arms. He stepped away, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. His breathing was heavier now, and he seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, a sign, maybe, of whether or not I felt the same.
“I— maybe I misunderstood,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter, as if the weight of his actions was suddenly dawning on him.
His words trailed off into a shaky breath, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath, everything hanging in the air between us. I stood there, wide-eyed, my lips tingling from the kiss, not knowing how to process what had just happened.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the ground for a second, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I actually thought…” He cut himself off, looking at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction, like he was waiting for me to say something, anything.
The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy, and I could feel my chest tightening with every passing second. I couldn’t let him walk away thinking he had made a mistake. I couldn’t just stand there and let this moment slip away.
Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my hands shaking slightly, but I reached for him. I grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to me until there was no space left between us. My heart was still racing, but this time, there was no hesitation. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his with the same urgency that he had given me.
Yoongi stiffened at first, but after a second, he responded, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His kiss was deep, full of everything he hadn’t said, all the things that had been building up between us. His lips moved against mine, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, if that was even possible.
I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his heart seemed to be racing just as fast as mine. The world outside of us faded, and for the first time in a long time, all I could think about was him, Yoongi, and this moment we were sharing.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I was left reeling. My mind was spinning, but there was something in the way Yoongi looked at me, something that made it all feel right, even if it didn’t quite make sense yet. I took a step back, trying to catch my breath, still processing everything that had just happened. "What’s happening?" I asked softly, my voice a little unsteady. "Are you sure tomorrow you're not just going to act like none of this happened?"
Yoongi didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully, like he was searching for the right response.
Then, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us once more. His eyes were intense, but there was a softness in them now, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just some passing thought. "Nah," Yoongi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me show you how much I've been stopping myself from anything happening."
Before I could process his words, his hands were on me again, pulling me back toward him with an urgency that caught me off guard. He kissed me again, this time it wasn’t rushed, but full of something more than just desire.
Yoongi’s hands were gentle yet firm as he backed me toward the living room, the heat of his body practically radiating against mine. I could feel my pulse quicken with every step he took. When my backside finally met the armrest of the sofa, a shock of electricity shot through me, my heart hammering in my chest.
He didn’t give me a moment to breathe before his hands were on me again, this time lifting me effortlessly, laying me down onto the sofa. I gasped slightly as I landed, and Yoongi followed, his body pressing over mine, his presence suffocating in the best way.
His eyes never left mine, and the way he hovered above me, his weight just barely touching me, made my stomach twist with anticipation. "Are you gonna tell me to stop, Y/N?" Yoongi's voice was rough, but there was something almost challenging in it. He leaned in slightly, the tip of his nose grazing mine as he waited for my response. "Or are you actually gonna admit how much you want this? That this is actually happening."
I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. I was caught between every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, and another side of me that wanted to give in, to feel everything he was offering without hesitation.
His lips hovered just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, making my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to understand what this all meant.
The silence between us was almost suffocating now, the tension thick as I weighed my next move. Yoongi didn’t pull away, didn’t pressure me further. He just waited, giving me space, but still holding me in place with that unyielding gaze of his.
For a moment, I thought I might choke on the words I wanted to say. But the truth was, I already knew. I couldn’t deny it anymore.
"I—" My voice faltered, and I quickly cleared my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "I want this," I admitted, the words coming out breathlessly, almost as if they were ripped from me. It was scary, letting the truth hang in the air between us, but it felt... necessary.
Yoongi’s eyes softened, just a little. He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine once more, but this time, it wasn’t a question. It was an answer, his answer to everything we had left unsaid.
Despite the clothes still between us, I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer, craving more of the intimacy building between us. Yoongi’s voice was low and dripping with desire as he whispered, “Good, because I’ve been dying to know how you taste…”
Smirking, he lowered himself further, letting his breath ghost over my pants. My heart raced as I gave him a silent nod, granting permission. Slowly, he unzipped them, his movements deliberate and teasing. My breath hitched as he slid my pants down my legs, throwing them on the floor. Just as he hooked a finger under my panties to remove them, I gently stopped his hand.
“Wait…” I whispered, my voice shaky. Gathering what little confidence I had, I added, “It’s only fair you lose a piece of clothing too.”
His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. “Desperate to see me naked already, Y/N?” he teased.
“Huh, you’re the one who just claimed you’ve been dying to know how I—”
Before I could finish, Yoongi silenced me with a kiss, his lips rough and insistent, leaving me breathless. His tongue swept against mine, teeth grazing in just the right way. When he finally pulled back to let us catch our breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Smirking, he stood before me, his torso now bare, revealing his defined muscles despite the soft lines of his body.
“There. Happy now?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
This man. Such a tease.
“Much better,” I quipped with a smirk of my own.
“Now, let me finish what I started,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. “Let you experience my famous tongue technology...…” His lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he lowered himself between my thighs, his hands trailing down to hook under the waistband of my panties. He slipped them down with tantalizing slowness, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“Who calls—” I started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his tongue made its first bold stroke, fast and deliberate, over my folds. My head fell back against the sofa, a moan escaping before I could even think to stop it.
He didn’t give me time to recover. His tongue moved again, sweeping over me with precision, eliciting another sharp cry. Each stroke was firm, purposeful, and maddeningly good. My body arched into him, instinctively chasing the pleasure he so expertly provided.
“Yoongi,” I managed to whisper, my voice shaky and strained, but he didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, his lips and tongue continued their relentless exploration, the wet heat of his mouth driving me to the edge of reason.
My hands shot to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling lightly, not to guide him, but to ground myself. His name fell from my lips in fragmented pleas, each one blending into the next. His low hum of approval vibrated against me, sending an electric shock straight to my core.
He reached for one of my knees, pushing it further aside to open me up to him completely. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the shift only deepened the intensity of his attention. His tongue flicked, swirled, and teased, hitting every spot that made my body tremble.
The room was thick with the sound of my ragged breathing and unrestrained moans. Each cry seemed to fuel him, urging him on as his pace quickened. I gripped his hair tighter, the sensation building with every stroke. A hand reached for his shoulder, my nails grazing the smooth heat of his skin.
“Yoongi…” I whimpered, my voice shaky and raw, a desperate plea in the form of his name.
He pulled back briefly, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a devilish smirk. “That was to answer your question,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, collecting anything he’d missed, and the sight alone sent another wave of heat through me.
I couldn’t let him have the upper hand, not entirely. Tugging at his hair, I directed him back between my thighs. “Less talking,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, “more doing.”
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against me as he dove back in without hesitation. This time, his movements were even more determined, his tongue working with an intensity that made me cry out. My body writhed against him, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me.
Yoongi’s hands gripped my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he worked his magic. His tongue alternated between long, teasing strokes and quick, precise flicks, sending me spiraling closer to the edge.
He was relentless, unyielding, and devastatingly good. Too good. If he could do this with just his tongue, the thought of what else he could do made my head spin. The heat pooling low in my belly grew hotter, tighter, until it felt like I might combust.
“Yoongi,” I gasped, my voice breaking as my body tensed beneath his touch. “I think I’m gonna—”
“Cum on my mouth, baby,” he murmured against me, his voice low and commanding, the vibrations sending me over the edge.
I shattered, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my head falling back as his name tore from my lips in a broken cry. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could feel was the overwhelming heat of pleasure washing over me.
He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me, drawing out every last tremor until I was trembling beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his face was smug, his lips glistening as he swiped his tongue over them again.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he murmured, and my cheeks flushed at his confession. How many times had this man fantasized about this? It wasn’t like I hadn’t entertained some dirty thoughts over the past weeks, but hearing him say it out loud, so unabashedly, felt different.
Before I could reply, Yoongi leaned back up and kissed me passionately, sharing the taste of myself on his lips. The kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine with deliberate slowness. Then he trailed wet kisses down to my neck, biting softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. It was possessive in the most exciting way.
As he toyed with the hem of my shirt, I decided to turn the tables. My hands moved to the waistband of his pants undoing his zipper. He froze for a moment, his eyes wide, searching mine. “Y/N… you don’t have to. Just because—”
“I want to,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. His breath escaped in a shaky exhale at my words.
“Besides,” I teased, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear, “let me show you what other sounds these hands can produce.”
I bit my bottom lip as I pulled his pants down completely, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. My hand brushed over him, his length already hard and straining against the fabric. My fingers lightly grazed over him, stroking just enough to tease. Yoongi hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration.
“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.
“Me? Tease you?” I feigned innocence, grinning up at him as my hand continued its slow, deliberate motions. He let out a shaky breath, his hips instinctively bucking toward my touch.
I leaned up to capture his lips again, all while my hand maintained its slow, torturous rhythm. “Y/N…” Yoongi moaned, the sound low and drawn out. With that, I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. My hand wrapped around him, the heat and hardness startling me for a moment. Pre-cum was already dripping from his tip, and I swiped my thumb over it, spreading it along his length as he trembled beneath my touch.
His hips instinctively bucked forward, chasing the friction as a low groan escaped his lips. My fingers moved deliberately, starting with slow, measured strokes that made his thighs tense beneath me.
“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, a strained mixture of need and restraint.
I leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline before murmuring, “Relax.” My breath was hot against his skin, and I could feel the shudder it sent through his body.
One hand worked up and down his length, my palm twisting slightly with each stroke, while the other cupped and teased his balls, massaging them gently. His body responded to every touch, his muscles taut and trembling as he fought to stay in control.
“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.
The intimacy of it all had my own heart racing, my body reacting to the sight of him unraveling beneath me. My hand picked up speed, stroking him faster and firmer, my thumb gliding over his sensitive tip with each pass.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless.
“Good,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his collarbone, my lips trailing over the sharp lines of his neck. “That’s the idea.”
His hips lifted again, chasing the rhythm of my hand. His groans deepened, each one more desperate than the last. The sounds he made were intoxicating, sending heat pooling low in my belly.
“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice cracking slightly. One of his hands reached out, gripping my thigh tightly as though he needed something to anchor himself.
Yoongi eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a fiery intensity. “I’m—”
“I know,” I cut him off softly, my hand never slowing.
His half-lidded eyes met mine, his skin glistening with sweat. “Where…?” he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I went to my knees and opened my mouth, holding his gaze. His expression faltered for a split second, a mix of desperation and awe flashing across his face.
Yoongi adjusted slightly, taking his cock in his own hand, his body hovering over mine, and with a few more strokes, he spilled into my mouth. I took everything, swallowing it down as I maintained eye contact. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the slight tremble in his legs as I kissed the tip of his cock, making sure nothing was left behind.
When it was over, he sank down, his body pressing against mine. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” Yoongi’s hand trailed lazily across my skin, finding the thin strap of my bra under my shirt. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I’ll make sure you’re not wearing anything at all.”
He hooked a finger under the strap, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back against my skin with a soft smack. I gasped, half-laughing, and swatted at his chest, but he just grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching slightly before scanning the room. His pants and boxers lay crumpled on the floor a few steps away. “As much as I love this view,” he teased, casting a lingering look at me sprawled on the sofa now, “we might want to at least partially dress before someone accidentally walks in.” Rolling my eyes, even though I lived alone, I reached down to grab my panties, slipping them on with a quick movement. “Happy now?” I quipped, arching an eyebrow as he smirked at me.
“Not entirely,” he shot back smoothly, already heading to the smaller sofa across the room. He grabbed the folded blanket and returned to the larger couch where I laid, tossing it over us as he sat back down and pulled me toward him.
“And why is that?” I teased, arching a brow as I snuggled into his chest.
He smirked, his arms wrapping securely around me as he scooped me into a comfortable position against him. His warmth enveloped me, and I felt myself relaxing despite my teasing words.
“Because, I’ve been messing up so far,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “ but I’m not letting you go away this time.”
I blinked, startled by the quiet sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a playful remark; it felt like a promise, one that made my heart flutter and my chest tighten all at once.
“You’re stuck with me now, Y/N,” he added, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Hope you can handle that.”
I couldn’t help but smile, burying my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “We’ll see,” I replied softly, my voice muffled away.
For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Wrapped in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.
***
The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of Yoongi’s embrace from last night was gone, replaced by the coolness of the sofa beneath me. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Everything about last night had felt surreal—like the universe had finally shifted into place. But now, as I sat up and looked around the room, it all felt like a dream.
My gaze darted to the floor, where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly, and the hallway where his shoes had been kicked off. They were gone. Every trace of him had vanished. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.
Did he regret this? Was it a mistake for him?
I couldn’t stop the questions from flooding my mind, each one louder and more insistent than the last. For me, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not even close. Last night had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a night that felt like it had shattered every barrier between us.
But had it meant the same to him?
Frustration began to bubble up, mixed with a touch of anger. If he had regrets, he should’ve said something. Leaving like this? That was low.
Determined not to let him get away with it, I marched to my room, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a casual shirt. If he thought he could disappear without a word, he had another thing coming. The moment I was tugging on my shoes, ready to storm out and demand answers, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I snatched it up, my frustration spilling over as I saw Minji’s name on the screen. Great, this better not be about work, I thought as I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I said curtly.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Minji’s tone was brisk but edged with concern.
“What do you mean?” I asked, more annoyed than curious.
Minji sighed heavily on the other end. “That’s good. You’re fine. I was worried for a second. Didn’t you hear? Someone raided HYBE last night. A crazy fan broke in and they believe they were trying to expose Suga’s album.”
“What?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in.
“Yeah, it’s all over the news this morning. Security’s gone into overdrive,” Minji continued. “Anyway, just wanted to check if you were caught up in any of it.”
“I have to go,” I said abruptly, hanging up before she could respond.
My mind raced. If HYBE had been raided and rumours about Yoongi’s album were true, then that meant he must be there. I grabbed my car keys and drove as fast as I could, keeping just within the speed limits. My mind buzzed with thoughts about Yoongi and everything Minji had said. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of HYBE.
I stepped inside, my pulse quickening as I made my way through the familiar halls. When I reached the studio, I stopped in my tracks. Yoongi was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadn’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in his conversation.
“Please make sure they’re caught and thoroughly questioned about what they saw,” he said, his tone firm but composed. Whoever he was speaking to replied, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know we had contracts here. Honestly, I don’t care about the album, it’s going to get released soon anyway. What matters is that Producer K’s information stays protected. Make sure no sensitive details leak, okay?” He paused to listen again. “Alright. Call me as soon as you have any updates.”
As he ended the call, his gaze finally landed on me. I was frozen in place, trying to process the past 24 hours, the intimacy, the sudden emptiness when I woke up, and now this chaos.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”
Yoongi’s expression softened when he saw me, but the stress in his posture remained. He sighed and motioned for me to sit down, but I stayed standing, waiting for answers.
“Someone broke into HYBE last night,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “They managed to get into a secure area. Luckily, nothing was taken, at least nothing physical, but there’s still a risk of leaks.”
I blinked, processing his words. “So… this morning—”
He cut me off with a sheepish smile. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you. When I got the call, I panicked. I didn’t even think, I just grabbed my stuff and rushed over here. I had to make sure everything was locked down. The NDAs, your information, everything. But I think we’re okay. Nothing seems to have been compromised.”
My chest loosened at his explanation, relief washing over me. “So… you didn’t leave because you regretted it?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “It felt like… maybe you didn’t care about anything that happened yesterday.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer to me, closing the distance between us in just a few strides. “Ahh, baby,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? How could I ever regret it?”
He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft and lingering. The kiss was brief, but the warmth of it stayed with me. As he pulled back, he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his hands firm on my thighs as he lifted me.
“Yoongi!” I squealed, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his smirk deepening as he carried me toward the door. My back pressed against it as he gently pushed me, one of his hands leaving my body just long enough to twist the lock. The soft click echoed in the quiet room. His eyes flickered with something darker, more intense, as he leaned in closer.
“And don’t even think about doubting me again,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Before I could respond, Yoongi moved us again, carrying me to the producer’s table, the one we’d spent countless hours working on together. He placed me on top of it, the cold surface pressing against my thighs. My body shifted slightly, the edge of the keyboard beneath me accidentally activating a few buttons with soft clicks and beeps.
A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he leaned over me, caging me in with his arms on either side. “Looks like we’re making more music, Producer K,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.
Immediately his lips captured mine, soft and demanding all at once. The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand threading into my hair to tilt my head for better access. I gasped against his mouth as his other hand slid down, gripping my waist firmly to keep me anchored to him.
The kiss was electric, slow, and yet so full of intensity it left me breathless. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a rhythm that made my heart race. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then slid up behind his neck, pulling him even closer.
Yoongi let out a low hum of approval, the sound vibrating against my lips. The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing second. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tugging gently before he soothed it with another kiss.
“You taste soo good,” he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and tantalizing. He kissed me again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase any lingering doubts from my mind.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I asked, my voice laced with impatience and desire. Enough with the teasing, I wanted him, here and now.
A smirk played on his lips as he looked at me. “Yes, right here on this table,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”
Slowly he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His dark eyes lingered on me as he kept his promise from the night before. He leaned down, gently biting one of my bra straps and pulling it down with his teeth, the act equal parts sensual and possessive. Then his hand slid the other strap off my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my skin in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.
His hands unclasped my bra, letting it fall away completely. The cool air of the room ghosted over my now-bare skin, goosebumps forming in its wake. His gaze was hungry, appreciative, as he took me in.
He didn’t waste a moment, cupping both of my breasts in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them until they hardened under his touch. Leaning in, he wrapped his lips around one, his tongue swirling and flicking while his other hand kneaded the other.
A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. My legs around his waist instinctively pull his body closer and flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal pressed against my clothed core, teasing me further.
Yoongi groaned softly against my skin, his breath hot as he alternated between kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening as he grinned down at me.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. He stood upright and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.
The sight of his toned chest and the way his muscles moved as he tossed the shirt aside made my breath hitch. My hands instinctively trailed over his bare skin, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms.
He proceeded to slide my pants down along with my panties in one smooth motion, leaving me bare beneath him. My cheeks flushed as I turned my head to the side, shying away from his gaze. The reality of the moment hit me, this was happening, in the studio no less. Something I had never done before, especially not with a co-worker. I had always been professional, keeping clear boundaries. But Yoongi? He was different. He was so much more.
Before my thoughts could spiral further, two of his fingers gently grasped my chin, tilting my face back toward him. His dark eyes softened as they met mine, a faint smile curling his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine adoration.
He leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips moving against mine with a passion that made me forget all my worries. When he pulled away, I was left breathless, my body trembling.
Without breaking eye contact, he stepped back and slid his boxers down, his cock springing free in a way that had my stomach tightening with need. He reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, so confident and focused, made my mouth water.
I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him. “Please…” I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.
Yoongi smirked at my plea as he rolled the condom over his length slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved closer, his cock teasing my entrance as he pressed the tip against me, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild.
Then he pulled back, a devilish grin on his lips.
“Yoongi!” I cried out, my hands gripping his shoulders in frustration. Yoongi chuckled softly at my frustration, his deep voice resonating in the quiet studio. “Patience, baby,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I want to savour this.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but my body was anything but patient. My legs tightened around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He gave in just a little, letting his tip press further against my entrance, his cock teasing me.
“Please…” I whimpered again, my voice trembling.
“God, you’re so needy,” he murmured, but there was no mockery in his tone, only a mixture of desire and affection. He pressed forward slightly, just enough to stretch me, and the sensation made my breath hitch.
He paused, his hand brushing over my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his gaze searching mine.
“Yes,” I breathed, nodding. “I need you, Yoongi… all of you.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pushed into me, his cock filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he slid himself fully inside me, both of us pausing to catch our breaths.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he began to move.
The first few thrusts were slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that made me lose all sense of time and place. My moans filled the room, blending with the soft sounds of his breathless grunts and the quiet creak of the table beneath us.
“Yoongi…” I gasped, my hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. His movements grew more intense, each thrust hitting deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle, and the new position made me cry out. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”
I clung to him, my body arching into his as the tension built to an unbearable peak. Every movement, every touch, was driving me closer to the edge. His name fell from my lips in a breathless chant, and I could feel his body tensing too, his control slipping with each passing second.
“I’m close,” I managed to gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed my forehead against his.
“Not so fast…” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. In one swift motion, he pulled out completely, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down and guiding me to turn around. His hand on my back guided me to lean forward, making my chest press against the cool surface of the studio desk. I tried to make myself stable, hands roaming over the desk for support when I accidentally hit a button on the keyboard that sounded like the recording audio one.
“Yoongi, I think I—”
“Leave it on,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips firmly as he aligned himself behind me. Without another word, he thrust into me again, harder this time, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.
The new angle was overwhelming, his movements fast and relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body. My hands scrambled for something better to hold on to, finding the edge of the desk as I felt my climax building faster than ever before.
“Yoongi,” I moaned, my voice trembling. “I’m going to—”
“Me too,” he groaned, his pace quickening. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me back to meet every thrust.
The tension inside me snapped like a rubber band, and I shattered around him, a cry escaping my lips as waves of pleasure consumed me. His name fell from my lips in broken gasps, my body trembling with the force of my release.
“Fuck,” Yoongi hissed behind me, his movements growing erratic as he followed me over the edge. With a low groan, he stilled, his hands gripping me tightly as he emptied himself into the condom.
We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breaths as the studio filled with the sound of our laboured breathing. Yoongi’s hand slid up my back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss between my shoulders.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice softer than before, filled with a mix of affection and satisfaction.
I turned my head slightly to glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering haze of pleasure. “You’re pretty perfect yourself,” I replied breathlessly.
His lips quirked into a smirk as he helped me straighten up, his hands still lingering on my waist. “You keep driving me crazy when there’s work to be done,” he said, his voice still low, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Work?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.
We both laughed softly, the tension replaced by a comfortable warmth as we started dressing up together. After fixing ourselves up, Yoongi and I sat back at the desk, quietly adjusting to the shift from intimacy to professionalism.
A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I glanced at the screen. The red "REC" light was still blinking, the audio still rolling.
"Wait," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. "Yoongi... the recording…"
Yoongi's gaze followed mine to the screen.
I stifled a laugh, trying to process the situation. "We... we didn’t just—"
"We did," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the mouse, clicking the stop button on the recording. The sudden silence felt almost louder than the chaos that had just unfolded.
There was a long pause before either of us spoke, and then Yoongi burst into a fit of laughter, the tension completely evaporating. "I can't believe you hit the record by accident," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "That’s... that's going to be something to remember."
I shook my head, laughing despite the embarrassment that was slowly creeping in. "Oh my god, I didn’t mean to! What if—what if someone listens to that? You have to delete it…"
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. "Relax, I’m pretty sure the only one who’s ever going to hear that is you... and maybe me, when I’m in need of some... inspiration."
I shot him a mock glare. "You’re terrible."
But the laughter between us continued, as if we’d both just acknowledged the absurdity of it all. "Alright, alright," I said, regaining some composure. "So, do we actually erase it... or keep it as a very private memory?"
Yoongi eyed the screen for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we keep it," he said with a smirk. "Just in case we ever need to prove who’s really in charge around here."
I raised an eyebrow, a challenge in my smile. "I still have to work with you..."
Yoongi leaned closer, his smirk widening. "We can always record something else to balance it out."
My face flushed again, but this time, it was the shared humour that made the tension feel lighter. The teasing, the jokes, the way we were able to slip back into this comfortable space of banter, it made the moment feel normal again. *** As time passed, Yoongi and I quietly navigated our secret relationship, keeping things low-key while indulging in countless late-night dates after work. Between stolen moments in the studio, quick getaways to his place, and intimate sessions that blurred the line between work and personal time, we found our rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, every fleeting glance became a quiet promise, a bond that only grew stronger despite the secrecy. The sexual tension between us was undeniable, and we gave into it time and time again, the boundaries between us disappearing with every heated exchange. April 17 arrived, and Yoongi and I were standing in J-Hope’s living room. It was a quiet evening before the storm of emotions that would come the next day, J-Hope was leaving for the military, and Yoongi was going to see him off tomorrow. As much as I wanted to be there for the farewell, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. My identity had to still stay hidden, my relationship with Yoongi too, at least for now.
Yoongi caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he walked over to where I was standing by the window. "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his gaze.
I forced a smile, trying to hide the tension I felt. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow," I said, glancing over at J-Hope, who was still chatting with some of the others in the room. "You’re going to see him off right?"
"Of course," Yoongi replied, his voice warm but heavy with the realization that things were changing. "He’s my brother. I’m not going to let him go without saying goodbye properly."
I nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "I wish I could be there, but... you know why I can’t."
"I know," Yoongi murmured, squeezing my hand. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "It’s just... it’s tough for both of us, huh?"
I nodded again, my chest tight. "Yeah. It’s not just about J-Hope going. It’s about the secrecy, the not being able to show anyone who we are... it gets exhausting."
Before Yoongi could respond, J-Hope called out from across the room, his voice teasing. "Yoongi, Y/N! You two are awfully quiet over there. What’s going on?"
I looked up and forced a grin, trying to act casual. "Nothing, just—"
J-Hope walked over with a playful glint in his eyes, crossed his arms. "You know, I’ve always seen the tension between you two," he said with a teasing smirk. "That’s why I kept pushing Y/N to hang out with me when Yoongi was around. I had to give him a little nudge."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by J-Hope’s words. "Really? You were the one pushing her?"
I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, it worked, didn’t it?"
J-Hope chuckled, but his smile softened as he looked between the two of us. "I get it now. You two are like an open secret. But listen," he continued, his tone more serious, "tomorrow, when I’m gone, make sure you both take care of yourselves. Yoongi, I know you’ll look after her. And Y/N, be good to him, alright?"
I nodded, the words heavy in my chest. "I will. You just... you just be safe, okay? Come back to us soon."
Yoongi echoed my sentiment, his voice steady and sincere. "Take care of yourself, man. We’ve got your back. Always."
J-Hope smiled at us both, his eyes a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I know. Thanks, guys. I’ll miss you both."
*** The next day, after Yoongi returned from seeing J-Hope off, we somehow managed to finish the last track just before the deadline. It felt like a weight lifted off our shoulders. The album, which had been months in the making, was finally ready, set to release on April 21st with nine tracks. It was a huge achievement, and that night, we celebrated in typical Yoongi fashion, with whiskey at his place, and, well, sex. The kind of passionate, no-holds-barred kind that made me forget about the stress of the last few months.
The following days leading up to the album release were a whirlwind. We couldn't spend much time together, since Yoongi had a full schedule of promotional activities. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking the rare opportunity to relax and mentally prepare for the next project Minji had set up for me. Life was moving quickly, and I knew the grind would start again soon.
That night, as I was settling into my evening routine, my phone buzzed with a notification. Yoongi's live stream was about to start. He had mentioned earlier that his company would have him livestream his full album for his fans to celebrate the release. I was excited, though admittedly a little nervous to hear how the tracks we worked on together sounded to the public.
I clicked on the stream and watched as Yoongi greeted his fans, his usual cool demeanor giving way to the warmth of being surrounded by people who admired his work. I listened closely as he played the first six songs, the ones he had worked on solo. Each track was a piece of his soul, his sound so distinct and raw. Then came the three songs we collaborated on, and I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing them in front of thousands of fans was surreal, but in a way, it felt like we were still connected. Every note, every lyric felt like a reflection of the quiet moments we shared, the time we spent creating together.
As the ninth track played, I expected the stream to wrap up, but then Yoongi’s voice came through again. It was softer this time, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say the words that were coming.
“This last song is a very last-minute addition to the album,” he began, his tone low and a little more introspective. “Making this album have a total of 10 tracks. I felt like this album was missing something... and this track summarizes everything that’s been going on with me lately. It’s called SDL.”
I froze, heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t known about this last-minute addition to the album. I thought everything had been finalized. But here he was, introducing a track that was somehow more personal than any of the others. My stomach tightened as the beat dropped, and the chorus rang out:
"Yeah, somebody does love
But I'm thinking 'bout you."
The lyrics hit me like a wave, each word carrying a weight that I couldn’t ignore. It felt so raw, so vulnerable. Before I could process it all, I grabbed my stuff and rushed out the door. I knew Yoongi would still be at HYBE, where the livestream was taking place. Without thinking twice, I jumped into my car, determined to get there. The song had caught me completely off guard, and I needed to see him. I needed to understand what this song really meant.
It wasn’t just a track—it was a message. A message that had left me reeling, and I wasn’t going to wait to figure it out. I arrived at HYBE, my heart still racing from the drive. As I stepped out, I caught sight of Jihoon leaving the building, and without thinking, I called out to him.
"Is Yoongi still here?"
"Yeah, last time I saw him, it was just a few minutes ago at the studio," Jihoon replied casually. I didn't even say goodbye as I ran inside toward the studio, my mind set on finding Yoongi. When I reached the door and pushed it open, I could tell it wasn’t the same as the first time we met, where his eyes had been skeptical and full of surprise. This time, when our eyes met, I saw something completely different, softness, warmth, and love.
I closed the door behind me and moved closer to him, my breath still catching up from the run.
"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, his voice laced with concern. He came to me, his hands instinctively reaching up to fix my hair, his touch gentle as he noticed my flustered state.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "That last song, I saw your live... where did that come from? I thought the album had only 9 tracks."
Yoongi paused, his hands lingering in my hair as he gave me a soft smile. "As I said on the live, that song is what’s been going on in my head these past couple of months."
I raised an eyebrow, still trying to piece it together. "So, you mean to tell me... I’m your inspiration?"
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. You know I’m not great with my feelings, and better than anyone, you understand how hard it is for me to express myself. With everything that’s been going on between us lately… I thought this would be the clearest way to show you how I feel, the way we know best: through music."
“Why didn’t you play it for me before? In private?” I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, like a big romantic gesture that only we would recognize,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I felt like I needed to redeem myself for how I acted at the start. To be honest, we were so good together that I’m sure we could’ve finished those tracks in less than a month. But I kept being a jerk, nit-picking everything just so we’d have to restart. It was selfish, but I wanted to steal every last minute with you. You walked into this studio and captured my heart and soul with everything you are, and I wasn’t ready to let that go so easily.”
His words hit me with full force, my heart pounding in my chest as the weight of his confession settled. I stepped closer, my emotions bubbling to the surface, and before I could think or say anything more, my lips found Yoongi’s. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if I were trying to tell him everything I couldn’t put into words. It was a kiss full of everything: love, apology, understanding, and a promise for more. We didn’t need more words, just the closeness, the music, and the quiet understanding between us. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, we both knew: this was just the beginning.
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crescent
it's all hallow's eve and y/n shouldn't be in the woods.
wordcount: 5.1k+
tw: there is a large section describing some scary animal (wolf) stuff w descriptions of blood and the breaking of bones! everything turns out the wya it should tho don't worry!
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With every step, the brush under (Y/N)'s feet crackled. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her weight, the loudest noises that could be heard in the forest. The hoots of owls nearby and howls of wolves far off bounced amongst the trees.
Taking in a deep breath of the crisp air, she readjusted her grip on her skirts as she stepped around a puddle. Every exhale came out in a cool cloud. The basket bouncing against her hip was going to leave a bruise, she was sure.
Truly, (Y/N) was regretting taking on the responsibility of this trip. Her cousin—and her mother for sending her off, actually—owed her more than just the few loaves of bread she was running to pick up. Especially since Katrina apparently was only available tonight, and was unwilling to make the trip herself despite being in town earlier in the afternoon, anyway. That was (Y/N)'s cousin, though; eccentric and impulsive.
Just because no one had claimed this land on the outskirts of town, and she had the kind of money to keep everyone's mouths shut if they had any opposition, didn't mean that it was the best idea. Especially so, when it meant that Katrina was tucked away in-between the trunks of trees and craggy brush.
But, (Y/N) supposed that was the price of enjoying time by herself. No husband needed when she had her peace and quiet, Katrina had said.
A chilled breeze swept across her form, goosebumps lighting over her skin, the texture hightlighted under the rays of the full moon. Yeah, (Y/N) thought as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders, there better be more than a couple of loaves of bread involved in this trip. She didn't care if Katrina enjoyed her peace and quiet, not when she was cold and missing out on the town's festivities for the night.
All Hallow's Eve was one of (Y/N)'s favorite nights of the year. It was the one night that she enjoyed staying out under the moonlight, and actually found joy in the idea of being scared. The last place she wanted to be on a night like tonight, was trudging through the woods on her way to her cousin's home.
This was one of (Y/N)'s least favorite routes on a regular day, even among the morning hours, let alone doing this in the evening with only the moon to keep her company. The forest around her sang, filling the silence of her trek.
Though she would never accept the title, she knew she was a bit of a scaredy cat, as Katrina had so lovingly put it when they were children. She avoided focusing on it to keep her wits about her, but the journey was beginning to send an eerie feeling up her spine.
With every crunching footstep, she swore there were eyes pinned to her. Every brush of her shawl over her bare skin was suddenly an insect crawling into her pores, every hair falling into her face was saliva dripping from an open maw above her head, every chirping animal was a deviant spying on her from the shadows. Shadows were elongated with the help of the moon. Naked tree branches now looked like spindly fingers reaching out to grab her and take her into the earth with them. The smallest creatures skittering over the brush were now out to snatch her away, taking her to their master where she would be nothing more than a banquet table of food.
This was most definitely not the way she wanted to spend her All Hallow's Eve. The only fun scares were the ones in town square, where the masks of witches and ghosts were strung around, and costumes were nothing more than a dressing game from those that she knew wouldn't hurt even a fly. Not this kind of chilling fear. Not the moments she had to convince herself were only in her head.
But, truly, (Y/N) knew they were only in her head. There wasn't any deviant in the woods around Katrina's home, let along a monster with rows of teeth or blinking eyes on the moon. It was just her and the critters that could survive the shift of seasons out here.
She just better be getting more than a couple of loaves of bread for this.
Tightening the knitted shawl around her body, she pushed on. Katrina's cabin couldn't be that far.
(Y/N) all but jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud crunch. She swore the sound came from behind her instead of underneath her feet like the moments before. Her steps faltered. Everything inside her wanted to turn around, to prove that it was nothing more than an animal running passed instead of the ghoul she had conjured up. But, just as badly as she wanted to know, she wanted to run away and sprint to Katrina.
Steeling herself, (Y/N) surged onward. It was really just an animal. She would know if someone was following her. She would have heard something before this. No one could be that quiet.
Maybe.
She only made it a few yards further before a rustling of dead leaves sounded. Much closer behind her than before.
On instinct, she whipped her head over her shoulder.
Nothing but the bony trees. Shadows pulled thin under the bright moonlight didn't allow for many hiding places. Nothing and no one was to be seen.
Her heart hammered in her chest, climbing up to the base of her throat as she forced herself to move on. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck, pasting the thin strands of hair there to her clammy skin. Katrina was going to tease her if she didn't get herself in check; she couldn't walk up having this look of fright on her face.
With her pace quickened, (Y/N) moved on. The basket hanging from the crook of her elbow bounced against her hip with every hastened step. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her feet, the soft rush of the earth being disturbed under the heel of her boots padded each of her steps.
She needed to go faster, she urged herself. The faster she made this trade, the faster she made it home, and the faster she was home, the sooner she could join in on the All Hallow's Eve traditions. If she was lucky, Harry Styles might still even be out with his niece and she'll finally have a chance to talk to him and let him know she exists an—
A threatening growl reverberated through the trees.
A sharp yip fell from (Y/N)'s lips, her lungs squeezed free of air. Despite the cool air around her, she could feel her skin beginning to simmer in fear. Her heart pumped as if in her last moments.
What was it her mother said? When confronted by an animal, was she to be the bigger, scarier entity? Or was she supposed to lie still and hope they went away? Wait, was she supposed to run and hope they didn't give chase?
Parts of her began to grow numb, a light tingle appearing in the tips of her fingers as she dared to look at her stalker.
(Y/N)'s list of fears was long and winding, the kind that had the top spot constantly under fire as new worries were added. In that moment, she couldn't be sure what she was most afraid of seeing when she turned around, only that the not knowing wasn't an option.
Taking in a deep breath and holding as still as possible, she made the smallest movement to peer over her shoulder.
Her heart caught in her throat. Though she couldn't see all of it, the beast wasn't something that could be ignored. Not with the way its paws dug deeply into the earth, it's stance spanning as wide as the width of her shoulders. The fur grew in an array of shades of grey, thick and course. In the right light, he looked like nothing more than a shadow, the illusion only broken by the reflection of his black eyes. As much as she saw the heavy breaths the beast exhaled, she could hear it just as well as he drew closer.
A root snapped under its huge paw, like a bone crunching. The sound had her skin erupting into goosebumps, (Y/N) unable to stop herself from jumping in her spot. The basket hanging from her elbow bumped against the trunk of the tree at her side.
The wolf wasn't pleased by her sudden movement, opening its maw and breathing out a gravelly growl. Its teeth were sharp, incisors coming to a point with the express purpose of ripping and tearing meat from the bone. Saliva gleamed over the teeth, dripping onto the soil at its feet.
It took another step closer to her. (Y/N) trapped herself with her back to the trunk of the tree.
Rushes of blood roared through her ears. She couldn't tell if the black touching the corners of her vision were the result of a stray cloud drifting over the moon, or the fact that she could be looking death in the eye as it stalked towards her.
All for a couple of bread loaves. From Katrina.
At that moment, (Y/N) felt a spark sink into her stomach. It was surprisingly offensive to think that her death would come on the journey to Katrina's cabin. That was far from fair.
In what she was sure she would later think of as a stupid move (if she made it long enough to have a later anyway), she dug the toes of her boots into the earth, waiting just long enough to feel one more beat of her heart against her ribs. Then, she took off.
(Y/N) had to hope this was the lifetime that would allow her to possess the speed to outrun a hellish wolf. Meandering through the trunks of spindly trees, she attempted to cut him off as best as possible, even if the pounding of the beast's feet sounded heavy and close behind her.
She was going to make it, she told herself. Just keep running. Get to Katrina. Get to the edge of the woods. Scream, let anyone else know what was happening. Maybe a hunter was out here—a stupid one for being out so late, but who was she to criticize. She was going to make it, and liv—
A jutting root caught on the tip of her boot. (Y/N) swore the world moved in slow motion as she fell.
The clouds above stopped. The moon dimmed. The leaves under her turned crystalline.
This was it.
Her chin hit the damp earth first, her jaw clamping shut. Her hands stung as she attempted to catch herself, sticks and rocks embedding into her skin. The basket in her arms was crushed under her weight.
This was it.
Hopefully, someone would deliver the bread loaves to her mother instead. Hopefully, someone would find her.
A deafening growl sounded through the forest. Tears filled her closed eyes.
This was it.
Until it wasn't.
The growl had been cut short, killed with a vibrating slam against the forest floor. The static feeling someone looming behind her vanished. Despite the lack of heavy, hot breath fanning across her back, she didn't move. She couldn't trust the sudden change in the air. Her bones stayed stiff as he continued to brace herself against the forest floor.
Another growl rang through the forest. This one was decidedly different than what she had heard while being stalked.
There was another beast. That much she could be sure of.
(Y/N) couldn't decide if it was scarier to not know what was behind her, or to see exactly what the end of her life was going to look like.
When a duo of gravely barks reverberated behind her, the decision was made for her on instinct. Though her gaze was blurry thanks to the tears filling her eyes, she was able to make out the pair of wolves looming behind her.
But neither of them were looking at her.
Roots and brush dug into her back as she rolled to her back. Neither of them appeared to notice the movement of the prey before them, supernatural eyes pinned on one another. While the initial beast's eyes were reflections of moonlight, colored a primal yellow, the newcomer had emerald crescents at its irises.
This new one was also bigger and broader. (Y/N) had thought the yellow-eyes wolf was large and scary enough, this new one was in a league of its own. She shuddered to think just how easy it would be for this one to swallow her whole.
Despite how large the emerald-eyed creature was, it was decidedly sleeker than the other. There wasn't anything course and tufting in its brown coat. Sharpened teeth, though just as menacing, lacked the chips and discoloration the other had. It looked less... feral compared to the other; desperate for a chase.
The emerald-eyed one stepped close to the beast, growling and baring its teeth in intimidation. The rigid posture kept its maw wide over the yellow-eyed one's head, dripping with saliva. A throat growl vibrating from its massive chest.
(Y/N) almost cringed when she saw the stalking beast refuse to back down despite the size difference presented with the emerald-eyed competitor. She was far from being a meal worthy for death.
Neither refused to back down, but at least they didn't spare even a single look in her direction. Now was the time to flee, get away from there and to Katrina before another nasty foe caught wind.
She didn't think before she scrambled to her feet and ran. She had to hope that the competition presented by the two wolves would allow enough cover to get her safely away.
Every hope of that was dashed when it only took a handful of moments before pounding footsteps sounded behind her. At least she had a head start.
The world around her was directionless as she attempted make sense of the trees she should be much more familiar with. She just needed to get away, as far as she was concerned. If she was able to make it to Katrina, even better.
Sweat slipped down her back, her shawl hanging from her shoulder. Branches caught on her dress. Roots attempted to trip her. The cold air didn't want to work with her lungs, every breath feeling that much more stilted. All while being pursued by animals that shouldn't exist—not like this.
Just as she swore she saw the backside of Katrina's cottage, between large trunks and spindly branches, one of the two beasts skidded in front of her. She hadn't heard the change in direction, but there were still footsteps sounding behind her.
(Y/N) was forced to stop, keeping herself from bashing into the chest of one of the wolves. But that kept her stationary just for the other to close in behind her.
She wasn't sure when, but tears slipped down her cheeks. The moisture stung the cuts on the planes of her face, searingly hot against her chilled skin.
There was no way out this time.
Especially not when the beast in front of her, the one with glinting green eyes, started charging towards her.
Pressing in on herself, (Y/N) fell to the floor. It was a fruitless attempt, she was sure, but she curled her arms around her head, rolling into a ball between the brush and roots. There was a chance, however small, that she may be harder to eat and swallow like this.
At her back, the pounding paws were louder across the forest floor. It was there, just behind her.
She wondered if she could feel each bite as her flesh was torn from her bones, or if she would die before then.
Peeking between her curled arms, (Y/N) saw the emerald-eyed beast close in on her. His maw was open wide, a menacing growl sounding through the forest.
Just as she expected to feel the last dredges of the cold air and every piece of her body connected to one another, the beast leapt. Right over her head. And onto the wolf at her back.
Crunches that sound did a lot like broken tree branches rang through her head. But, (Y/N) knew, she wasn't sure how, that those cracks weren't from the forest. That was the snap of bones. She was sure.
Whimpers were now interspersed with the gravely growls, pitches and devastating. Cracks and crunches tore the rhythm apart.
One of them was dying behind her.
(Y/N) couldn't look. She didn't want to see what kind of carnage was taking place behind her. All she knew was that the silence that shortly followed a particularly screeching whine was the sign of an ended fight. The elimination of competition—and her only safety in the form of distraction.
Along with the blood pudding around her boots.
Her body felt faint, her head too heavy for her neck. She was out of chances.
It was then that she hoped she actually wasn't that close to Katrina's cabin. She didn't want her cousin to wake to a sight like this.
A humid puff of air fanned across the back of (Y/N)'s neck, moving the baby hairs pasted to the nape. A quiet whimper tore from her throat, eyes stinging with more tears.
Take her throat first, she wanted to beg. Kill her quickly.
Instead of the hot slice of teeth through her flesh, she felt the nudge of a wet nose against her neck. A chuff sounding.
(Y/N) sat still. Blood began to creep up the hem of her dress, sticking to her ankles.
Another small chuff. A whine so broken and breathy. A whoosh of air bloomed at her side.
Forcing herself to peel her head up, she saw the brown wolf, green-eyed and sleek, laying at her side. It looked up at her with bright eyes, something knowing flashing through them. Despite its large frame and bloody maw, it looked almost pathetic with its puppy-dog eyes and crossed paws.
The beast had saved her. Unless this was an advanced species, having adapted a wolfy version of manipulation, this beast had saved her and wanted her to... live.
She blinked at the beat. Still with a beating heart in her chest and each of her limbs attached to her body.
This wasn't it. The beast before her wasn't her death.
A savior, more like it.
The pressure in her body came to a head, her ribs seemingly collapsing as sobs wracked her body.
(Y/N) reached towards her savior, fingers skating through its bloody fur. Warmth seeped into her fingers at the touch, drawing her that much closer before practically falling into the beast.
The wolf reacted only in small scoots of its body coming closer, sharing it's warmth and comfort with her. Quiet chuffs sounded as it nosed at her neck.
"You saved me," she whispered, the words watery and thin. "Y-You saved me."
Though she would have normally scoffed at the idea of any part of this animal being knowing or intelligent, what she had seen tonight had showed her that there was nothing ordinary about this beast. She believed he knew what she was talking about when it cuddled closer to her, giving a small yip before its rough tongue tentatively licked over her neck.
Not even a flinch was given at the contact.
The beast had saved her and was now sharing its warmth with her. It was comforting her as if language was irrelevant when it came to communication.
(Y/N) wasn't sure how long she stayed wrapped around this creature, only that the chill had seeped from her body but her bones were incredibly stiff when she finally unfurled. Her tears had ran dry like the blood seeping from her injuries.
The green eyes of the beast matched her own gaze, large and round as it took her in. It nosed at her chin, a chuff fanning over her skin.
"My—" she cut herself off to clear her throat from the croaky state of her voice, "My cousin, she lives over here. I-I need to go to her." The loaves of bread were at the absolute bottom of her list, but a warm home was at the top. "W-Will you... stay?"
In the back of her head, (Y/N) wanted to be concerned about the state of her sanity. But she knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, that this creature understood her. He knew what she was saying, what she was asking.
Especially when it stood to its full height, head bobbing as if in a nod.
The beast allowed her to grab his scruff to steady her as she stood to her feet. Every bone in her body suddenly became aware of how hard she had pushed herself to stay alive. Aches and bruises bloomed over her body. She stumbled, only for the wolf to sidle up to her, giving more support.
"Sorry," she murmured, keeping her grip tight on the wolf as they started towards Katrina's cabin.
Standing side by side, (Y/N) was hyperaware of just how large this creature was. The tufts of its ears peeked over her own head, leaving her at eye level with the beast. Her gait was stilted, but the wolf stayed at her side, though she was sure it could cover miles in less time than it would take her to move yards away. She could feel the probing gaze it gave her with each step, a primal feeling of concern bubbling behind its eyes.
Katrina's cabin came into view, a kind of relief flooding her system that had her heart cracking. She could have fallen to her knees, thanking whatever deity it was that had kept her in its sights this evening. Though, she figured she knew well which one she needed to start with.
"Thank you," she murmured, a sad smile touching the corner of her lips as she looked to her creature. She slowed to a stop at the backside of Katrina's cottage, her kitchen window in view, complete with warm amber lighting seeping into the forest. A beacon.
The beast butted its head against her shoulder.
"You saved me," she repeated, visibly drooping. If not for the grip she had on his neck, she was sure she would have fallen. "Thank you."
Another chuff. Another affectionate head-butt against her arm.
The beast tipped its head just so, meeting her eyes under the pale moonlight.
Emerald irises glimmered. So human, with understanding floating through them.
As well as something far more familiar than should be seen in an animal.
(Y/N) was well aware of just how deeply traumatizing this trek had become, but she refused to think it a crack in her sanity when she swore that the beasts eyes were ones she had seen before. A green so unique and enthralling.
A green she had only ever seen in the gaze of Harry Styles.
The mayor's son. The shy man who had plucked (Y/N)'s attention every time he walked into the room, even if he didn't even know she existed.
The eyes of a human man.
Maybe she was cracking already.
She tipped her head just so, the wolf's eyes following the movement.
"You... Your eyes...They—"
(Y/N) was suddenly cut off at the clattering sound of Katrina's dingy door behind pushed open.
"(Y/N)? Is that you?! You were supposed to be here hours ago!"
Whipping her gaze to where Katrina was rounding the front of her home, peering around the porch and right to where she was standing.
Right next to the wol—
A branch snapped in the forest. Moonlight glinted off a slick, blood-matted fur. The creature was gone, disappearing into the forest. Only the ghost of its warmth remained.
"Oh, lord—(Y/N)! What happened?! Are you okay?"
Katrina raced towards her. No wolf was to be seen, no large creature that had saved her.
"The w-wolf," she muttered, voice broken like the skin of her lips, "He—Katrina—"
"What wolf?" her cousin asked, approaching (Y/N) with concerned eyes and worried features, "(Y/N), you're bleeding. What happened?!"
"There... There were two wolves," she muttered, distractedly looking to her cousin, "One of them... It saved me."
Katrina pinned her bottom lip between her teeth. Gentle hands landed on (Y/N)'s biceps.
"Let's get you inside. You need to warm up, and then we can talk about everything. Okay?"
(Y/N) didn't remember agreeing to the proposition, but she knew she made it inside the cottage. That was where, beside the fire, she had to wonder if what she had seen—the wolves, the glimmering eyes, the supernatural size and strength of the creatures—was even real.
If she really had seen the eyes of Harry Styles in the sockets of a deadly beast.
—————
"You are never going out like that again, (Y/N). Katrina isn't even that talented at baking!"
(Y/N) cracked a smile at her mother's fretting. It had been this way all morning after Katrina had escorted her home. (As well as three loaves of bread and every pastry left to spare).
"I won't, mother," (Y/N) vowed, just the same as she had the first dozen times her mother had made the same declaration.
"Two wolves," she muttered, flying back to the kitchen to stir the soup simmering on the stove, "I cannot believe that kind of evil—so close! This town..."
More angered mutterings sounded from the kitchen, but were cut off at the sound of a knock at the door. Before she could move a single inch from where she had been stationed on the couch,(Y/N)'s mother shouted that she would grab the door—do not move!
She watched as her moth pulled open the door, the guest being shielded from (Y/N)'s view. But she heard the voice.
One that caused her heart to spike. Today, for a slightly different reason than the usual.
Harry Styles was here.
"Oh, thank you, Harry! She is going to love this, thank you."
A rumbling tone sounded around her mother. (Y/N)'s name tossed in the mixed.
"She's still very fragile, but you may come in and speak to her if you'd like."
(Y/N)'s spine straightened. The sound of floorboards creaking under foreign weight filled her small home. Harry's head peeked over her mother's, complete with waving curls, a rich brown. The kind that would have gleamed so prettily under a clear, moonlit night.
Harry's eyes met her as her mother escorted him inside.
Green.
Unique and enthralling.
A soft smile bloomed over his lips. "Hello," he greeted her, (Y/N)'s mother disappearing into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"
"I am alright," (Y/N) nodded, attempting to sit up before Harry urged her to stay just where she was.
"No, don't move. You are alright hurt enough," he muttered, coming to crouch at the side of the chaise. Concern floated in his eyes—the kind of concern that (Y/N) almost wanted to place as guilt.
"I really am alright. I look worse than I feel," she attempted to joke, though it fell flat when Harry only trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.
A familiar circuit was run over the planes of her face, taking stock of every slight injury.
Just like the emerald-eyed wolf.
"I gave it to your mother, but my family put a few things together for your recovery. I hope they're able to bring you some comfort." He dropped his gaze from hers. "I cannot imagine going through what you did. You are incredibly brave."
A warmth bubbled along her skin. At least that part was still normal—she was not immune to a dimple and pretty hair.
"I wouldn't call myself brave, but I appreciate your words," she muttered, a bit sheepish at his praise, "All I did was run."
"Sometimes, that is the smartest move to make," Harry murmured, a lopsided smile on his strawberry-hued mouth. "I am just glad you are alright. I've been worried sick since I heard the news."
Her heart caught in her throat. He knew she existed—enough to worry about her well-being.
"I am," he started, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, "so happy to see you. Please call on me if you need anything to help your recovery—anything at all."
"Um, I-I can do that."
The dimpled smile that bloomed over his face was enough to have her throat clogged and lungs stilted. With a face this pretty, it was increasingly harder to find the similarities between the man before her and the blood-matted wolf in the woods.
"If it's alright with you," Harry started, voice dropping a tone lower as if sharing a secret, "I would like to request that if you ever need to make that trek again, that someone accompany you. Myself, included."
(Y/N) didn't have to think before she was nodding her head. "I can do that."
"Thank you," he smiled, a breathy laugh floating through his voice, "I am unable to stay long today, but I would like to check in on you this week. If that's alright with you."
Tempering her reaction as much as she could, (Y/N) only gave a demure nod as Harry stood to the full of his height. "I don't have much else going on, but I suppose I can fit you into my schedule."
Her tease was enough to draw a laugh from him. An achievement, as far as she was concerned.
"I will see you tomorrow, then? If you're not already occupied," he played along, edging towards the open door. "And, please,"—he paused, the intensity of his gaze sitting squarely on her—"if you see another wolf with those yellow-eyes, tell me. Those seem to be more dangerous than the others."
The next moments passed in a haze. She was sure Harry said goodbye to her mother and made plans for the following day. She was sure her mother praised Harry's kindness, talking him up to (Y/N) as if she didn't already know. She was sure her heart continued beating and her lungs continued filling.
She was sure the world continued on, even when her mind stood still.
(Y/N) hadn't told anyone about the yellow eyes.
—————
thank u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes but if you have any fun requests or anything at all please send them in!!!!
#writing#harry#harry styles#harry one shot#harry au#harry imagine#harry blurb#werewolf harry#harry x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles au#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#werewolf harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles angst#harry angst#harryween#as it was#harrys house
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X-Men putting the piece together on who Laura is
ANOTHER X-MEN POV ON THE IDIOTS
Laura who is sometimes seen around the mansion with Ellie, Yukio, and Colossus. She is usually brought by Deadpool of all people. Everyone seems to almost.. know her but they can't place it.
Ellie, Yukio, and Colossus aren't answering questions they just admit she's a mutant who they had met.
They try to get Laura to join the school but she rolls her eyes at the meer idea. She seems so extremely uninterested it's admirable. She doesn't talk to anyone besides the previously mentioned three and she seems more than happy with that.
It's a rare day where Deadpool ended up hanging out at the mansion. (They can usually manage to run him off). He seems to be hanging around Laura who actually sees to enjoy his company.
He's talking about anything and everything as he does while Laura chimes in here and there seemingly enjoying not having to feel the silence.
Eventually after a while and a phone call to Deadpool the merc gets up and tells her he has to go but she doesn't have to come with. Laura rolls her eyes before answering as she too gets up.
"Of course I'm coming with you pop."
The Mansion's inhabitants share shocked looks.
"You are just like your father Mini." Deadpool answers with a audible smile as he puts an arm around her shoulders and they head out the door.
The rumor mill goes wild with that one. Surely that's not Deadpool's biological daughter surely.
It was the next time Laura was at the mansion that they got answers. Laura had been hanging out in the library with Yukio when she got a call. She had rolled her eyes as she grabbed at her discarded jacket.
As soon as she said her goodbyes and hung up she had apologized for having to leave early, but her papá was here because something had come up. Yukio had reassure that she understood and walked her to the door.
A motorcycle could be heard outside and on almost forgotten instincts people started to make their way to the entrance waiting for a ghost. They knew Logan had died and they knew their was a new one that had appeared, but he had done his best to avoid them at all costs.
No one had done anything to reach out seeming to sense that there was something very different about this version of the man they knew. Only this time as Laura opened the door there he was. He seemed extremely uncomfortable and a moment away from fleeing but he was there.
Laura had just smiled widely and hugged him. "Hi papá." She greeted voice warbling with a purr...and...holy shit.
Logan hugged her back, "Hello kit." He warbled right back.
It felt like a baseball bat to the back of the head. It was so obvious how did they miss it? Laura looked so much like him it couldn't have been more clear.
Laura was Logan's daughter, Laura was Deadpool's daughter. That ment....oh no
#deadclaws#deadclaw#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool#wade wilson#x 23#wade x logan#logan howlett#wolverine#poolverine#laura kinney#x men#X-men#X-23#Resi's Shorts
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Just to Stop the Feeling
bi!Theodore Nott x m!reader; angst & fluff
summary: in the wake of his mother’s death and his father’s ever increasing expectations of him, Theodore finds love in a place he never would have expected
a/n: a year in the making and this might be the gayest thing i’ve ever written. big shout out to @suugarbabe for listening to me yap about this for weeks, the anon who requested this, and everyone who’s been supporting me the past year. here's 6.2k words of bi awakening, enjoy ♡
The Great Hall was loud, too loud if you asked Theodore. The Sytherin was sat at his house table, head propped up on one hand as his friends chattered around him. The sorting ceremony had just wrapped up which meant everyone in the Hall was catching up about their summers. Theo thought back to just a couple days ago, the oppressive silence that haunted the Nott Manor in stark contrast to just how lively and crowded it was now. His father was rarely in common spaces nowadays, thank Merlin, but that left Theo to stalk around the Manor much like the ghosts floating above him now. If only it was as interesting an existence as Sir Nicholas or even Peeves. Not even a poorly rolled cigarette in the garden brought much enjoyment to him these days.
“Theo! Are you with us mate?”
His eyes drag up to meet the inquisitive look on Enzo’s face. He hums in acknowledgement.
“We’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” Theo takes the cue to look around and see the group looking at him, some in amusement and some—Mattheo specifically, though he tries to hide it—with concern.
He slips on his signature lazy half smirk with minimal effort, rehearsed and perfected. “Tired from the train, what did I miss?”
Enzo perks up and launches them back into conversation, Mattheo visibly relaxing in his peripheral. Arm still supporting his head, he jokes and laughs and nods along to everyone recapping their summer breaks, feeling hollow.
The Slytherin common room wasn’t cozy in the traditional sense, with its cool lighting and excess of stone architecture, but Theo found it comforting nonetheless. He was sitting on one of the leather couches in front of the fireplace, this time only in the company of Mattheo and Draco.
Cool leather against his skin contrasted nicely with the heat of the fire, the familiar voices of his friends putting his soul at ease for the first time in months. He loosely kept up with what they were talking about, his mind simultaneously wandering to thoughts about the new term. Evidently, Draco and Mattheo were on the same wavelength as the topic shifted to Hogwarts and—much to Theo’s dismay—girls. “So Nott, got your eye on anyone this year?”
Theo rolled his head against the back of the couch to face Draco, that smirk back on his face. “Eh, hadn’t thought about it too much. I know Pansy has hers on you, Malfoy.”
The blond scoffs, “as if I wasn’t aware.”
“Like a predator on prey,” Mattheo cracks, smile evident in his voice. Theo allows himself to chuckle as Draco looks at them helplessly. Theo feels Matt’s elbow nudge at his side. “Too bad it isn’t Granger looking at him that way.”
A pillow flies past Theo’s head and smacks the boy next to him square in the face. Mattheo dramatically falls back onto the couch before erupting into laughter.
“Too bad you aren’t a beater, huh Malfoy?” Theo quips, quickly putting up his hands to potentially block another projectile pillow.
Draco just groans, “I’m going to bed.”
The first month of classes flies by fairly quickly, everyone falling into their usual rhythm. Quidditch practices a few times a week, late nights smoking in the astronomy tower and the odd party here and there. Theo is itching to get off the castle grounds.
That’s why he jumped at the opportunity to go when Enzo asked the group for company on his shopping trip that Saturday morning. Theodore loved Hogsmeade in the fall. The shops would put up festive decorations and the entire atmosphere of the small village grew extra cozy.
With a Slytherin scarf loosely draped over his shoulders and Butterbeer on the brain, he met his group of friends at the beginning of the path to Hogsmeade.
The breeze was comfortable as they walked through the village, stopping every couple of shops to peruse the new inventory. They finally make their way to the Three Broomsticks, finding a table for the group.
Theo groans as he gets voted to go up to the bar for drinks. Sitting at one of the stools is a guy in scarf showing off a badger emblem. As he gets closer, he realizes he vaguely recognizes the Hufflepuff. Theo settles himself down on the stool next to him, causing the guy to look over.
He has a quizzical expression on his face, eyes lighting up as he figures out who he’s looking at, “You’re Nott, right? I think we have a couple classes together.”
His heart thumps a little harder at his name on the boy’s lips. The boy in front of him tilts his head when Theo doesn’t respond, reminding him to give a quick nod.
The Hufflepuff’s lips tug up into a small smile as he offers up his name.
Theo blinks a couple times and stammers out something about seeing the guy around sometime before he’s speed walking back to the table, no drinks in hand.
“Whoa, who got Nott blushing?”
Theo furrows his brows together in confusion, a hand coming up to his face. And sure enough, heat was radiating off his cheeks.
“Never mind that, Theo! Where’s the butterbeer?”
Monday morning Theo is sitting in History of Magic before class starts, getting ready for an hour of boredom, when books hitting the desk with a thud catches his attention. He’s startled to see you, the Hufflepuff boy from the Three Broomsticks, standing there already looking at him.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Theo nods, feeling like an idiot. Why was this Hufflepuff boy able to completely shut off his ability to speak, let alone think?
That bright smile is back on your face as you take the seat next to him. And his heart flutters.
“So glad this is the last year of having to put up with Binns and his masterclass story telling,” he can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice and finds himself cracking a smile. An actual smile, not the smirk he usually puts on.
“I know, it’s a wonder anyone manages to stay awake.”
You gesture to the travel mug in your hands, “gotta keep at least a bit of caffeine on me for emergencies. One of my muggle-born friends gave me something called an energy drink? It’s…a lot, to be quite honest.”
Theo huffs a laugh, “energy drink? You’d be better off with some espresso than whatever muggles put in those things.”
You give a contemplative nod, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before he can figure out something else to say, to keep existing in the surprising warmth of conversation with you, Binns is starting up his monotone ramble. Theo feels his heart sink as you look away from him to at least make an attempt to pay attention. He silently looks through his textbook, trying to ignore the weird sensation in his chest.
“Hey Theo, wanna come to the Astronomy Tower tonight?” Mattheo’s voice comes from behind where he’s sat in the common room the next evening after dinner.
He pulls his nose out of the book he was buried in as he thinks it over. It had been a while since he’d had a proper smoke with the lads, and he didn’t need to ask to know that’s what Mattheo had in mind. It doesn’t take long for him to set his book down on the table with a nod, “yeah, sure.”
As he turns around to face him, he sees Enzo right behind the other boy, grinning with a thumbs up. The look on his face makes Theo debate changing his mind, but he walks out of the common room with the pair anyway.
The walk up to the Astronomy Tower is long and filled with so many stairs that Theo is very quickly reminded why he doesn’t bother coming up here as often as he thinks he’d like to. Enzo and Mattheo walk slightly in front of him, talking about something Theo doesn’t really bother to listen in on, Quidditch perhaps? How those two don’t run out of things to talk about, he’ll never know. He’s so lost in thought he barely notices the last two flights of stairs to the top and he’s suddenly hit with the cool air of early fall. He’s also suddenly aware that Mattheo and Enzo are no longer talking, but instead looking at him. He blinks.
“Huh?”
“Told ya he’s just been on a different planet lately,” Enzo quips, nudging Mattheo with his elbow. Mattheo nods in agreement but doesn’t comment on it, instead repeating his question, “I said do ya got your own smokes or are you taking one off me? Cause if you are, we’re fucked. I’m out.”
Theo isn’t surprised in the slightest, “is that why you invited me? Free cigs?” Nonetheless, he pulls a pack out of his pocket and holds it out for him.
Matt grins as he swipes one, “nah, but it doesn’t hurt. You’ve always got nicer ones than me.” Enzo immediately scoffs.
“It’s cause you’re broke Matty—”
“Shut up, no I’m not!”
“Then explain why you keep mooching off of me—” they continue to bicker before Theo cuts them off. “Matt, got a light?”
Mattheo shuts up and holds out a lighter, flicking it to life with practiced ease. Enzo swoops in with his joint before Theo can even pull a cigarette out of his pack, rolling his eyes at his friend. Mattheo raises an eyebrow quizzically, “weed? Seriously?”
Enzo just shrugs nonchalantly, cocky little smirk on his face. “Not my fault neither of you know how to have fun—hold on, is that my fucking lighter?!” Mattheo gives him a shrug, moving it away from where Enzo’s leaning in to get a better look.
Theo sighs, “I think he meant on a school night—”
“Who are you? My mum? Didn’t think you cared about actually attending lessons, Teddy—” Theo immediately scowls at the nickname, making Enzo raise his hands in surrender, smirk still planted on his face. Merlin, he could be insufferable.
Theo returns the shrug, trying to play it off, “just figured with OWLs coming up—”
He’s cut off once again, this time by Mattheo, “don’t tell me, you wanna make sure you don’t miss sitting by that Hufflepuff.” Damn his ability to see straight through him. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you two sitting together yesterday in Binns’ class.”
“Well, I didn’t…” Enzo interjects but is ignored by Mattheo other than an exasperated eye roll.
“You seemed pretty chatty; wasn’t that the same guy at the Three Broomsticks last Saturday?”
Theo quickly lights the cigarette on Mattheo’s still flickering flame and shoves it between his lips. He receives an unimpressed look at his attempt to avoid the question, but to his credit, Matt refrains from pressing further. The same cannot be said for Enzo.
“So what, you’re fraternizing with Hufflepuffs now, are ya mate? Never thought I’d see the day—” his teasing is abruptly ended by Mattheo whacking him upside the head.
Mattheo lights his own cigarette before putting the lighter away, taking a deep drag from it. There’s a beat of silence between them. A gentle breeze passes through the tower as Theo looks out at the Scottish Highlands bathed in the light of the moon.
“He’s just…nice, I guess. Doesn’t seem to mind I’m a Slytherin,” Theo finally answers, releasing a stream of smoke.
Enzo chuckles, rubbing the back of his head where he was whacked. “Fair enough. I feel like usually only girls that want a little fun are willing to break that barrier.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively as he takes a drag as well. Mattheo snorts with a nod. “At least it's not a Gryffindor.” Theo’s nose subconsciously scrunches.
“Yeah, remember that Gryffindor Enz was all over end of last term because word was going around he had a good pot stash?” Now it’s Mattheo getting shoved, but he barely reacts besides a huff of a laugh.
“Didn’t even have the goods,” Enzo pouts petulantly, “wasted a whole 2 weeks for nothing.”
“I think you’ll live, mate.”
Theo leans back against the railing, cigarette between his lips as he watches his best mates as their bickering shifts into them laughing and joking like it always does. He adds a couple quips here and there, mind wandering to the Hufflepuff boy periodically as the cigarette slowly dwindles. Once it’s reached the end of its life, he snuffs it out, pushing himself off the floor where they’d ended up sitting for the past hour. “I think I’m heading back down to the dorms, it’s getting late.”
Mattheo shares a look with Enzo. With a smirk, Enzo wolf whistles, “gotta get your beauty sleep for your little badger, eh Nott?”
Theo just flips him the middle finger as he crosses the tower to the first of many, many stairs. As his descending footsteps echo through the stairwell, Enzo turns to Mattheo, “poor fucker is whipped.”
Mattheo nods, “and down right oblivious…how many galleons are we betting for how long it takes him to figure it out?”
There’s a mischievous smirk on the other boy’s face. “How much you got?”
The next morning, Theo is once again startled by the Hufflepuff boy dropping his books on the table with that same dramatic thud. If Theo didn’t know any better, he would start to think it was intentionally to get his attention. This time, he speaks first.
“Morning.”
There’s that bright smile again and Theo’s chest feels…odd.
“Morning!” you chirp as you slide into the seat. “I took your advice and got some espresso, much better than that muggle concoction. Figured since it was your suggestion, I’d bring you some. Mum got some beans from a cafe in London when I wrote her about it.”
Once again a warm sensation floods Theo as a second mug is set on the table and slid his direction. He carefully picks it up and takes off the lid, finding a double shot inside. It’s still hot from what he assumes is a temperature charm on the mug and the warm sensation in his chest gets stronger.
He raises the cup to his nose, inhaling the comforting aroma of coffee before taking a sip. It’s not quite the taste of home, but it’s close. He nods appreciatively.
Then before he can stop himself he’s making an offer, accent a hint thicker than he typically tries to control, “I’ll have to make you a cup the way I had growing up sometime. This is good though.”
Theo doesn’t have time to backtrack or change his mind before your smile is turning softer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
To hide the flushing of his cheeks, he quickly downs the rest of the liquid and hands the mug back. For maybe the first time ever he’s glad Binns decides now is the perfect time to begin the monotonous period.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you put the mug back in your bag, soft smile still on your face. And maybe Theo doesn’t hate this class as much as he thought he did.
Over the following weeks, Theodore does the unthinkable: he looks forward to bloody History of Magic, just for the opportunity to chat with you before class.
His friends share looks at breakfast as he starts leaving earlier and earlier each Monday and Wednesday, hoping to get even just a bit of extra time with you. Because he’s too nervous to ask you to hang out. And he cannot for the life of him figure out why.
He’s Theodore Nott. The stoic, level headed and lusted after Slytherin. Right? He makes people nervous. He flusters pretty girls. So what the bloody hell is going on?
He’s never, not once in his 5 years at Hogwarts, ever considered the possibility that someone could do this to him. Let alone a stupid, pretty Hufflepuff boy with a gentle, excited smile that’s way too eager to mingle with a snake. But somewhere in his gut Theo knows he’d be devastated if the other boy stopped.
And that terrifies him.
One morning after several weeks of sitting together, you once again drop your books onto the desk with the theatrics Theo’s come to expect from you. He subconsciously finds himself perking up at the sound just before you start chattering away, something he’s also grown almost fond of. He likes that you tend to fill the space he’d otherwise find awkward or tedious in conversation, seemingly undeterred by his often quiet nature. And he’s more than happy to just listen to you and bask in your welcoming presence.
This time you’re talking about the History of Magic exam coming up in a couple weeks and your lack of a study partner, something that instantaneously catches Theo’s attention.
“Yeah, my usual study buddy bailed on me, the nerve,” you laugh. “So now I’m on the hunt for a new one…”
Theo’s heart rate picks up as you trail off, there’s no way you’re going to say what he’s hoping you will. Right? There’s no way he’s that lucky. Hell, there’s no way someone like you would want to be around him outside sitting next to each other in the worst class offered at Hogwarts. He’s pretty sure you have less controversial friends to ask than a brooding Slytherin whose best mate is the son of Voldemort, for fucks sake—
His internal pity party is cut short by you looking at him almost… nervously?
“Would you maybe be free to, I dunno, study together some time next week? It’s cool if you’re not, I just thought—well, I’m not sure what I thought—other than that I would offer,” your question starts to shift into a ramble and your cheeks flush as you seem to realize it. Meanwhile, Theo’s heart has stopped and his breath catches in his throat. He has to hold himself back from shouting a thrilled “Yes!”
He clears his throat, desperately clinging to his composure. “Yeah, sure, I could make that work. When did you have in mind?”
Theo feels nearly sick with nerves as he sits at the Central Hall fountain outside of the library waiting for you. He was at least 15 minutes early, mostly because Enzo said he would hex him if he kept pacing around the dorm room like he had been for the prior half hour. His foot taps anxiously in a way he is not used to. He's no stranger to stress, but this is on a different level. All he's going to be doing is go over the most boring aspects of wizarding history with you for a couple hours and here he is, worried he's going to end up in the Hospital Wing with heart palpitations. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he looks up at the snoring dragon mural above the library. Just breathe you idiot!
“Hey Theo, sorry I'm late. My dormmate would not shut up.” He hears your voice before he sees you, his head turning to follow the sound. And he tries to keep the surprise off his face at hearing you call him Theo instead of Nott like you had been since that afternoon in the Three Broomsticks. “You ready for the most exciting next couple hours of your life?” Oh, and what he wouldn't do to see that teasing little grin on your face more—
“Ready,” he stands from the fountain bench, following behind you through the heavy wooden doors of the library.
He walks half a step behind you as you weave your way through the tables and shelves, finding a relatively remote spot in the already quiet space. For maybe the first time in—your friendship? Theo hopes that's what you two are at least—the entire time he's known you, your set your books down without the slam.
You must have noticed the look he was giving you because you smirk. “I don't just go throwing books when you're not around. And close your jaw, you'll catch lacewing flies.”
Theo lightly bites on his lip as he sits next to you at the table, your shoulders almost touching. You flip the massive textbook open and pull a couple quills and parchment from your bag as you settle in to go over the material.
There’s a feeling of familiarity with you that Theo wasn’t anticipating. Conversation comes more naturally than when he’s spoken with you before class and he realizes he really, really likes spending time with you. There’s no bickering like there is with Matt and Enzo, no snarky comments thrown around for laughs. It’s peaceful and warm.
He feels like that around you a lot, he realizes, warm. Comfortable. His arm brushes against yours.
Theo and you spend the next couple hours working through the exam material, interspersed with getting to know each other. He listens to you ramble about your favorite classes this term, your friends—anything you’re willing to tell him, he wants to drink it all in.
Neither of you seem to notice how close you’ve gotten to each other until he can feel your breath on his face and that warmth that seems to radiate off of you. Then, you’re getting closer.
There in the back of the library, Theo’s world comes to a standstill as you gently press your lips against his, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. It takes him a couple seconds to regain his senses before moving his lips back against yours, losing himself in the kiss.
He notices you taste like earl grey which blends with the woody scent of your cologne in an intoxicating mixture. Much too soon for his liking you’re pulling back and he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact.
His eyes flutter open to find you haven’t gone far. In the silence he thinks about how pretty your eyes are and maybe—no, definitely—that’s his new favorite color.
“Was that okay?” your voice is just above a whisper.
Theo just leans forward and recaptures your lips in another kiss. First his mind swirls with this is what kissing is supposed to feel like. He’s dumbfounded that it really can feel like fireworks and it’s not just some sappy bullshit made for the romance novels Pansy and Daphne read.
Then it all comes crashing down.
The next thing he feels is dread. Overwhelming, overpowering dread. He can’t quite place why, but it’s there. And suddenly he’s pulling away from your lips like he’s been burned.
He sees the shock on your face, but before he starts to apologize or explain, his father’s voice is itching in the back of his mind. He steps back.
Your voice saying his name is muffled by the ringing in his ears and your concerned expression is taken over by that all too familiar disappointed look in his father’s eyes. He runs away, feeling more like a coward than he’s ever felt in his life.
And the worst part is he knows he’s leaving you alone, confused and hurt. But he does it anyway.
After wandering the corridors of the castle for the better part of 10 minutes, lost in thought, he finds himself in front of the music room. Like his body instinctively knew where he needed to be. He pushes the door open, relieved to find it empty. The wooden stairs creak as he walks up. He sits on the rug by the piano, hugging his knees to his chest.
Theo is alone in the music room not 20 minutes before Mattheo finds him. A bloodhound that boy. Or maybe he just knows Theo too well.
“Your little badger sent me.” Mattheo eases down onto the rug next to him, close enough for his knee to lightly graze Theo’s thigh. “He was freaking out like the world was ending or he kicked your cat or something. Didn’t know where to find you, but he did find Berk and I in the Astronomy tower. So I said I’d take care of it, you’re welcome.”
Theo just hums in acknowledgment.
“So…did he actually kick your cat or what?”
Theo shakes his head.
“Well it must have been pretty bad since you came here. Haven’t seen you hiding out here since, well—” his mum died. Mattheo doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they both know.
A long breath he didn’t realize he was holding breaks out in a sigh as his eyes shut. The soft enchanted piano music is the only sound for a moment as he wills away the emotions threatening to surface. “I don’t know, maybe the world is ending.”
A couple more beats of quiet. “Wanna talk about it?” He knows deep down it’s a question Matt will respect the answer to. And he briefly debates turning him down, but something compels him to slowly nod.
“He—we kissed.”
“Was it bad?”
“No.”
Mattheo nods as he considers the response he was given. “So the problem was that it was good?”
“Yes? No? Maybe?”
“That’s kinda dodging the question, mate.”
Theo groans, “I don’t know, okay?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I just— cazzo! This is wrong, isn’t it? Feeling like this?”
“Theo—”
“I can’t feel this way for another guy. My father would disown me and it’d ruin my life. I’m supposed to marry a pureblood witch and produce an heir and—”
Before Theo has time to stop him or even process what’s happening, Mattheo is grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together, and that same fluttering sensation is back. It’s not as strong and thrilling as kissing you, Theo’s not sure that’s even replicable, but it still feels nice in a way none of his previous kisses have been. Where he was going through the motions for some reason even he didn’t understand. But no, once again he can understand why people would want to do this.
Then as quick as he was pulled in, his best friend is pulling away, silently observing him for a moment.
“Did the world end?”
“…No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
They sit staring at each other as Theo’s brain struggles to formulate a response.
“Matty, I—” he hesitates like this is going to be what destroys their friendship, “I don’t think I’m…straight.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
And something about the way he says it makes Theo feel better. Like he’s not being judged or ridiculed for feeling this way. Like it’s something natural. A no-brainer, boring fact of life. Theo thinks he might cry.
Instead he leans forward and connects their lips again, just briefly. And part of him knows Mattheo can feel the underlying sadness and fear in it. But when they pull apart once again, neither of them comment on it. A weight feels like it's been lifted off him.
“I think,” Theo pauses as he debates speaking about this out loud for the first time, like it will make it real. “I think I haven’t really felt like myself since my mum...y'know?” He says it like it’s a question, but they both know the truth. “I know it’s been 2 years, I should be fine. But I’m not.”
Mattheo, who had been quietly listening, speaks. “I don’t know Theo…I’ve barely heard you talk about her since you came back to school third year. Have you talked about it to anyone? Hell, have you let yourself grieve?”
“I…I don’t know how. My father stopped mentioning her after the funeral and—he barely acknowledged she was even gone.” He pulls his knees back up to his chest. “I miss her.”
He feels the comforting warmth of Matt’s hand on his shoulder blade. And the gentle touch of his thumb across his cheek, wiping a tear away is the first indication that he’s started to cry. He quickly sniffles in an attempt to stop the tears, but it doesn't work. If anything, it just makes them fall faster. He tucks his head down, forehead against his knees. Mattheo's hand gently rubs his back as they sit in silence as he cries. He's grateful Matt doesn't try to help by speaking, the gentle piano filling his ears like a warm hug after being lost in the cold for days with no reprieve.
The silent sobs eventually slow, his body no longer shaking from the force of them. And weirdly, he feels better. He’s spent his whole life being told that men don’t cry, especially pureblood wizards of their status, so when the weight comes off his chest he’s shocked at how easy it is to just breathe.
He pulls his head up to look at Matt, who isn’t looking directly at him but keeps his hand on Theo’s back. A soft murmured, “thanks,” passes his lips and causes the curly haired boy to return his attention to him. Mattheo doesn’t comment on how red and tear-stained his eyes are, much to Theo’s relief.
“You good, mate?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Mattheo hesitates before speaking again, “you don’t have to listen to me, cause what do I know, but I think you should talk to him.” Theo thinks back to you, how lost and hurt you looked when he ran from the library and he sighs.
“When did you get so wise?”
Mattheo shrugs, “we’ve all had to grow up pretty fast…you’re my best mate Theo. It sucks seeing you like this, y'know?” He lightly nudges Theo’s shoulder, “kinda ruins the vibe.”
Theo can’t help but chuckle, “you’re an idiot.”
“And here I thought I was wise.”
“I was wrong, you’re fully a dumbass.”
“Nah, that’s Enz. But seriously, talk to him. We’re all tired of you pretending this isn’t something you want, whether you realize it or not.”
Theodore reluctantly nods, “fine. Fine, you’re right. I think I like my, what did you call him? Little badger?”
Mattheo grins and shifts away from Theo, looking a bit too happy for a man that just watched his friend cry over a crush.
“What are you so cheery about?” Theo raises an eyebrow as Mattheo gets up to return to the Astronomy Tower.
Mattheo throws a smirk over his shoulder as he lingers at the top of the stairs, “Enzo owes me a hundred galleons.”
“Wait! You two idioti bet on this?!”
Despite feeling somewhat better after his talk with Matt, Theo avoids you for the rest of the week. Come Wednesday morning, he’s sliding into the seat next to Mattheo in History of Magic, ignoring Enzo’s annoyed “Hey!” in protest and Mattheo’s side-eye.
He doesn’t turn around to see the disappointed look on your face as your books softly thunk on the desk behind him where you two usually sat. But he doesn’t miss the lack of usual flair the sound has. His heart aches.
“Riddle said you’d be in here.”
Your voice breaks through Theodore’s thoughts, pulling his eyes toward you walking up the steps and over to him.
He'd been finding himself coming back to the music room over and over again since he started avoiding you. He wasn't entirely sure why, maybe he just wanted to stop the dull ache of loneliness in the absence of you. He pushes the thought out of his mind.
You settle down on the rug next to him, jarringly similar to the position he'd been in with Mattheo a week ago. Only you were further away, and while he couldn't blame you, he hated it.
“Sorry for kissing you so suddenly, I just—I’d been wanting to for like a month and I guess I was hoping you wanted it too. I didn’t mean to scare you off.”
He quickly shakes his head, “no, don’t apologize, it was—I liked it. I’m sorry for running off like that. I think I got…overwhelmed. I didn’t exactly know I was, y’know, into guys before…you.” He forces it out despite his embarrassment, cheeks a light shade of pink.
You look at him with a small, somewhat sad smile, “it’s fine. Kinda reminds me of that day we properly met in Hogsmeade. You ran then too.” You pause briefly before adding, “and don’t worry about it, this is new for me too.”
Theo flushes more intensely at the memory as you turn your head to look around the music room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before. Riddle had to give me directions...Why here?”
His mouth goes dry as he stares at you. “My, uh, my mum used to play the piano. She tried to teach me, but I couldn’t fully get it before…” he trails off for a moment before pushing past it, “I come here to feel close to her.”
A look of realization passes over your face, “oh, I—I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I don’t really like to talk about it.”
A hesitant hand reaches out to rest on his knee. He didn’t even realize he’d relaxed his legs down from his chest.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Teddy—”
He gasps at the nickname, soft and filled with raw emotion. “I want to.”
“She was… the only person I felt truly got me, before Mattheo at least. And she uh, she used to call me Teddy. So since she—” he hesitates, the finality of it all hitting him at once like it’s the first time he heard the news all over again, “since she died, I haven’t let anyone call me that.”
He sees the way your eyes soften further, but it’s not from pity, like he’d come to expect from the topic, no, it’s deeper than that. It’s empathy. “I didn’t know,” your voice is quiet, like you’re about to apologize, but truthfully that’s the last thing he wants. So he keeps speaking.
“She would have loved you.” His hand shifts to rest over yours, still on his leg. “She would have loved how…happy you make me. So, I want you to call me Teddy, please.” It comes out a bit more desperate than he intended, but when did anything ever go as planned when it came to you?
But you don’t run. You don’t look at him in disgust for showing emotion. You just nod with a soft, “okay Teddy.”
And god, that fluttering sensation is back. A small smile tugs on his lips; before he knows it he’s leaning forward, needing to be closer, as close as you’ll possibly let him. And this time, without any guilt or shame or fear, he kisses you.
And he feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in your lips, in your scent, in you. Like water filling his lungs, it burns so sweet. Surrender to the unknown, letting his lingering heartache and worries about his father’s expectations go until all that’s left is you.
It’s pure bliss.
As your lips move together in sync, his body heats up and he finds himself craving more. He’s just received a taste, but he can already tell he’s going to be insatiable; the need to devour you, to become one with your very essence, is overwhelming. But he doesn’t run away. He pushes deeper.
He feels your hand cupping his face, almost to steady yourself from falling over as his tongue brushes against your lips, begging, pleading for mercy. Like he’ll fall apart if you don’t let him explore every inch of you. Your lips part.
Tongues dancing together, he pushes you down until your back hits the rug, his torso hovering over yours as his hands on either side of you hold him up. Your fingers caress his cheek, touch featherlight.
The kiss lasts until neither of you can breathe, parting only to gasp and pant, inches from each other’s face. You suddenly laugh, a sweet sound that rivals the room’s quiet piano in its beauty.
“You’re still here,” your eyes search his, like you’re trying to find doubt in them, but there is none. He wants to kiss you like that for the rest of his life.
“I don’t think I’m scared anymore.”
Your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him back into another kiss catches him off guard, but he melts into it like his body was made to meld with yours. It’s soft and sweet and feels like home.
The next morning at breakfast, you’re sitting next to him like you belong at the Slytherin table, at his side and getting acquainted with his friends. Enzo’s in the middle of asking you for details on which Hufflepuffs have the best weed when Draco comes over and sits down, an apprehensive look on his face. “I suppose this is something you just expect us to get used to?”
“Yes.” It’s Mattheo who speaks, grabbing a bit of toast off Draco’s plate and taking a bite. “He makes Theo happy, he’s one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”
Enzo pipes up from beside him, “I’ll do anything to never have to listen to Theo hopelessly pine like that ever again.”
Draco huffs and as Theo’s about to say something, he hears you laugh softly next to him as your hand gently squeezes his thigh. “Just gonna have to live with some yellow brightening your mornings, Malfoy.” The other two boys snicker at the defeated look on Draco’s face and start to tease him that he’s just jealous Nott grew a pair and managed to ask someone out. But Theo barely notices.
He presses a kiss to your temple, heart fluttering as you grin up at him and for the first time in a long time, he’s happy.
#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x male reader#theo nott x male reader#slytherin boys#enzo berkshire#mattheo riddle#x male reader#mattheo riddle x theodore nott#a lil bit of#mattheo riddle x enzo berkshire#if you squint#bisexual#gay#mykie fics
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Tim Minear, here's a hint for you:
For BuckTommy, you don't even have to get them back together as a couple immediately.
You can bring Tommy back to give Buck some closure, and Buck can suggest they just be friends because he misses Tommy's company.
So they still hang out with each other and Eddie, and Buck finally feels ready to start dating again. He doesn't mention it to Tommy, but maybe one day someone lets something slip about Buck going on a great date with this amazing guy, and Tommy overhears it.
Since he broke up with Buck, he knows he can't really question Buck about it, but it still irks him for the very obvious reason that he's still in love with Buck but doesn't think it's fair to ask for a second chance after breaking Buck's heart.
But the slight twist is that Buck is genuine friends with the new guy he's dating, and they like to sleep together on occasion, but it's not an actual romantic relationship. Neither one of them are looking for something serious, but they enjoy each other's company. However, that's their own private business, so Buck hasn't told anyone else the details of his situation. He just allows everyone to believe he's dating.
He knows Tommy will find out eventually, but he doesn't want to tell him or bring it up because it'd be awkward.
Tommy is noticeably irritated and a little curt with Buck on the inside, but he maintains his mask perfectly so that Buck never catches on.
Until one night, they're about to leave for a movie, but Buck's "friend" calls and Buck has to cancel his plans with Tommy.
Tommy leaves, very upset and irritated, but he doesn't even make it to his car before he turns around goes back up to Buck's loft. He knows that nothing is official with Buck's friend, so he knocks on the door, and Buck answers it.
Tommy kisses him hard and closes the door behind him. Buck is in shock, much like the first time Tommy kissed Buck.
Tommy then just lets it all out. He tells Buck that he loves him and misses him, and he hates himself for ending things the way they did and for breaking both of their hearts. He says he thought he could handle Buck dating again, but he can't. He's still in love with him and wants him back. He's willing to do anything: seek counseling, starting over, even moving in with Buck on a trial run basis.
Buck starts crying and releases all the emotions/thoughts he's had/felt since Tommy broke up with him. He's angry, rightfully so, that Tommy hurt him and that it took seeing another man in Buck's life for Tommy to make a move. He asks why Tommy waited until now to really say anything. He talks extensively of all the ways Tommy hurt him when they broke up.
Then his final questions for Tommy are "Why now? Why are you willing to make an effort now and not months ago? Do you actually see a future with me? Or are you scared of being alone if I move on?"
Tommy confesses that he's always wanted a future with Buck, but he's scared of getting hurt again. But he acknowledges that Buck is not at fault for the way past partners have treated him, and he should have stayed and talked things over with Buck instead of ending things and walking away.
Buck kisses Tommy and says he misses him and loves him too. Tommy wipes away Buck's tears and kisses him again and again.
After a few smooches, Buck pulls back and clarifies that he's still angry and hurt over the breakup, but he wants to work through it. Tommy promises not to run away like that again, or at the very least tell Buck when he needs space to think something over before making a decision.
Then they work on their relationship until enough time has passed for them to be happily ever after.
Tim Minear, this storyline alone could last you a couple seasons since Tommy is a guest recurring character.
I'm throwing you a lifeline here, so take it and make something with it. Do what white men are known for and steal this idea and make it yours. Come on, you can do it. Prove to folks that you're not just a mediocre white man who skated by on privilege instead of talent.
Because the queer people of color in this fandom are doing a better job of explaining your mess than you are.
That is all.
#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#tim minear#911 abc#911 discourse#do better tim#bucktommy fix it
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✤ Slow Burn ✤
A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.
- Top 5 H/L Fics -
1️⃣ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {M, 113k}
As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.
2️⃣ got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove {E, 124k}
five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.
now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.
(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)
3️⃣ Collision by itjustkindahappened / @tequiladimples {E, 226k}
Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)
4️⃣ Flightless Bird by audreyhheart {E, 97k}
AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?
5️⃣ Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12 {NR, 208k}
Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.
HIDDEN GEMS:
💎 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere {E, 149k}
Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?
Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.
But this isn’t that universe.
//an X-Men AU.
💎 ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings {E, 109k}
As a rule, Mandalorians and Jedi do not get along.
So when Harry Styles, esteemed Jedi Knight, finds out he has to work with the hot-tempered Mandalorian Duke, Louis Tomlinson, he’s prepared for it to go poorly. But it doesn’t, testing both of their boundaries of what they deem acceptable for a partnership.
It’s the start of something, and as the galaxy dissolves into war, they find themselves clinging to each other, even as it drags up things better left in the past. As it turns out, nothing between them has changed.
Or, a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.
💎 don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux {T, 83k}
All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.
As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.
Louis is a boy. He knows he is.
or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.
💎 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence {NR, 83k}
The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.
Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.
As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?
💎 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo {E, 79k}
“Louis, what do you have to say about how last week ended?” the reporter asks. There’s a moment of silence. Harry is looking at the reporter, but eventually gives in and looks down the table at Louis. He’s looking straight ahead, as if Harry isn’t even in the room. “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.” Harry leans forwards, placing his arms on the table and leaning onto them to get as close to his microphone as he can while looking at Louis. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Louis turns to him, his icy blue eyes meeting Harry's. “Driving is your fuckin’ job, act like it.”
In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.
aka the one where Louis and Harry are childhood friends to enemies to lovers over the course of 15 ish years.
#ficrec#slowburn#helloamhere#mediawhore#thelarenttrap#lululawrence#beckywritesthings#localopa#hatetolove#agreatperhaps12#audreyhheart#itjustkindahappened
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Could you do some angst Logan x mutant!reader comfort. Like maybe she has a similar origin to Logan where she was tested on for her powers and escaped. She ends up at the mansion and that’s how her and Logan end up together.
I’ve been wanting to write this myself for a while but haven’t had time. I need to see some truama bonding and comfort for that man with someone who really understands what it’s like. I would give anything to be that person. 😭
Hi anon!! Im so sorry this has taken me so long to get to- despite some little changes on the request, and my unsureness on writing angst, i hope you enjoy this drabble!
One step at a time
Summary: sleep can be a fickle thing, a struggle more personal than most.. But it just so happens theres another person in the mansion that understands. Written with X1 logan in mind!
Warnings?: angst, mentions of nightmares and troubled sleep, self doubt, slight depression? Comfort and fluff at the end? Idk how to tag this really.. Words: 1.5k Masterlist
People were scared of things they didn’t understand, of people that didn’t fit in to a societal box. And being a mutant? Well, you became the scariest thing of all. An unknown, a secret unshared in a room full of people.
To some, that fear, that little nagging doubt about what you are, what you could do.. fuelled somthing else entirely. Not fear, not quite, more an evil kind of curiosity. A fixation to poke and prod, bend and snap, push the limits of their fear regardless of yours in the name of science. Regardless that you too, we’re a person, different now yes, but still born of the same matter once.
Careless to the person you were, only the thing you could become. And even then, if you weren’t useful.. you were useless. Another mistake in a pile of scraped idea's, a caged creature begging for a way out.
You never wanted it, never asked to sit in a room and wonder why. Why you, why this. There was never a good enough answer, never a reason, not really. Some People were just cruel, vile and nasty, out for their own gain.. to test the limits of humanity.
But then it begged the question, what was humanity? Because it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the sleepless nights afraid to close your eyes. The sanctity of sleep a luxury. Peace a rationed thing.
Therefore It had become normal to find you in the dead of night, curled up the couch in front of the fireplace; whilst everyone else slumbered. Sometimes a book in hand, other times just your thoughts. Embered flames burning bright and warm, the crackle of wood often the only sound. It was how your relationship with Logan had bloomed.
From wordless nods walking down corridors to conversations and nights shared infront of the fire; he had become pleasant company, a friend you regarded higher- one who understood better- than most. He'd seen the same horrors behind his eyes, the years a tiresome thing.
So it's here you sit, like always, in your spot on the couch peering between pages of a book and the old grandfather clock, waiting for Logan.
It was late and he'd usually show up around now, your meetings held in a trusted pact- an agreement that if sleep held pain, this is where you'd find one another. It was up to choice then, if you'd relocate to one of your room's; if you felt the embrace of the others arms would quiet the horror, just for a while.
Because while it's true that you both may no longer be broken here in the mansion.. you'd always be bruised bone deep.
"Hey" Logan murmers softly, breaking you from your thoughts as you crane your neck toward him. Hes stood tall in the doorway, clad in sweats and a white vest, two steaming mugs in hand as he pads closer, handing you one over the back of the couch. "Figured you'd want a drink, tried to make it how you like"
You nod, taking a tentative sip with a greatful smile. Your eyes fluttering shut a moment as you swallow, relishing the warmth. Logan had indeed made it the exact way he knew you loved, and it swells your heart; the fondness you feel for the action- for him. "'S perfect, thank you.."
"Was nothin.." he shrugs, sighing into his own cup, back hitting the couch besides you. the cushions are a soft embrace for his aching body, the days seeming longer. He'd confessed one night, that the winter had never helped his affliction. That the cold air made his adamantium bones ache in a way that seemed impossible to describe. The sting of his knuckles that bit sharper with each snikt of his claws.
You shift quietly, book page marked and now placed on the coffee table. Logan watches silently as you reach for the soft blanket that lays dormant on the back. Your fingers adjusting the fabric carefully, unfolding and draping it until it rests over his knees too.
Logan smiles, a look reserved for these nights- for you- in his eyes. Its a soft, greatful, little thing; Unreminicent of his usual gruff demeanor. he lifts a large arm bringing it to rest snug behind your shoulders, tugging you closer.
Theres a comfortable silence that follows then, sat side by side. Logan simply watches as you pick the book back up, resuming your page. A warm feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt for a while as your eyes flit across the words.
He still cant understand how anyone could- would- hurt you. Would even dare harm a delicate hair on your head. It boils a possessive type of anger inside of him, that people, the very same that had hurt him, had dared. That they had ruined your trust, made you into something of their design, just like him.
And Its then that Logan cant help how his mouth moves, how it burts the words before he can even think to stop them, make them sound less jumbled. "You uh.. didn't deserve it you know?.. What they did"
The words feel foreign on his tongue but they hold meaning- one that you can feel as you cast your gaze to him.
Theres a look in your eyes he cant quite read as you hum honestly. "Neither did you. you know that right?"
And Logan knows. Hell its deep down but he knows. Yet hearing the words still bring an ache to his chest. Its beyond hard for him to even think about- admit really- even after all this time. He hadn't deserved it and neither had you. But that was certain weather perceived or not.
"Im.. Tired, logan" you trail quietly, casting your book aside as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. "Just.. So tired of being tired."
A shattering feeling stabs at Logan's chest from your admission, a sigh falling against your hair. "I know you are. Hell so am i but.." he pauses, trying to find the correct sentiment.
"We- you- can do this"
You can't help the exhaled sound that slips from you, not a laugh, not not a breath either. "Logan-" you try to protest, try to shift back inside your non vulnerable shell ready to shut down, but he has you locked next to him, fingers coming to rest on your jaw.
"No, look at me, Cmon" he murmurs, cupping and turning your cheek gently until your gaze meet his. "like you told me that once. Its one step at a time alright?"
You recall saying it, remember the context, and yet the idea of saying it to yourself feels foreign- as foreign as the words blurted from logans tongue.
He'd had a nightmare that night, had woken with a hoarse scream and his claws embedded in the plush mattress; pillows ruined with feathers everywhere, soaked in sweat. You'd come barreling in from downstairs having heard his sounds of distress, knowing the situation.
But.. You hadn't laughed, despite him being so surrounded by pillow feathers that he's sure he looked like big bird. You hadn't been cruel or judgemental, pitty in your eyes. You'd just been.. Well, you. Kind and understanding, reassuring him that it was okay, that he was safe. To take a shower and you'd sort the rest. It was from then that the fondness he felt for you had bloomed to something a little more inside of him.
You nod gently, a small, barely there smile on your lips now as you repeat. The light of the fire a soft glow in your eyes, tone a fraction more hopeful. "One step at a time"
"Yeah, thats it sweetheart" he smiles gently, a proud look in his own eye's, before his throat clears. A bashful look taking over his features as he continues, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your cheekbone. A distraction to the honesty he was going to drop "Besides.. you got this knucklehead who'd really like to keep this.. Us.. up"
You swallow, breath stuttering as your cheeks heat."You.. You would?" you sound a little surprised, yet a little hopeful, and It makes Logan smile, hearing your heart pounding in your chest.
"Yeah sweetheart" he breathes, voice a low gravel as he anxiously nods, before rushing to add. "if- if thats something you'd want?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, so excitedly it makes logan chuckle, the deep rumble joining the crackling fire. "I, uh, i mean.. ofcourse i do Logan"
Logans fingers tilt your face higher, his forehead coming to rest on yours as your fingers trace over his scruff coated jaw. "Things are better with you.." you murmer, breath puffing over his lips. "Lighter. You get it, get me.. This.."
He hardly lets you finish before his lips are pressed to yours, breaking the miniscule gap between them. His kiss so uncharacteristically gentle, like he was afraid one taste and you'd break.
"Things are better with you too.." he says quietly, forehead on yours, a smile against your mouth as his nose rubs your cheek.
And so Its that night you both agree, while wrapped up in one another, that things are better together. Better with each others shoulder to lean on. And despite the darkness that would still linger sometimes, that's all that mattered. You and him. Him and you.
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#deadpool and wolverine#carbonsfics#wolverine fluff#logan howlett fluff#logan fluff#logan angst#logan howlett angst#wolverine angst
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𖡼 ⊹ ˚. dating felix catton (headcanons)
first of all this boy is clingy as hell. like he needs to be glued to your side at all times or else he'll die (or at least that's what it feels like for him) he's always touching you in some way; hand holding yours when he's walking you to your next class or a hand softly gripping your thigh as he sits next to you in the crowded bar.
to further elaborate on the clingy part; I believe his love language is physical touch so he's always touching you sweetly and kissing you all over, hands exploring you like it's the first time again and mouth finding all your sweet spots whenever he gets you alone. he's insatiable and can never get enough of you.
he drags you along to join him whenever he goes out. house parties, pubs, uni events, it doesn't matter because you're always by his side. he insists you must be present, otherwise he's not having fun.
he's a little possessive to be honest. he's admittedly grown up spoiled so he enjoys when things are exclusively his. there was never any argument on that; felix wanted something so felix received it and it would be his only for as long as he deemed so. that's why he feels like it's his job to show everyone that you were exclusively his, always making sure no guy ever even tried their luck and keeping a possessive arm around your waist when in a crowd, successfully claiming you.
he always asks you to spend the holidays at Saltburn, and you never decline. his mother adores you, and so does Venetia. the days there are spent sunbathing in the more isolated, open parts of the building like his balcony as he catches up on his prescribed reading for the term or taking a dip in the pond to cool off from the sweltering summer. he has you sit by him when he takes a bath because he enjoys the company and vice versa. also absolutely loves when his father has guests over for dinner because the two of you will just be spending the night making fun of the strange characters Mr Catton called friends.
will literally come knocking at your dorm room at past midnight (much to the dismay of your roommate) and ask you to join him for a quick drive because he couldn't sleep. and you never say no either; a CD burned with all your favourite songs playing from his radio as the open jeep allowed for the wind to blow over you and cool you as you drove to nowhere and back.
he spoils you rotten. expensive jewelry and bouquets and teddies on anniversaries and paying to get you all dolled up just for him. he's a romantic at heart, so he's going all out with the corny stuff (you love it, though). I'm talking sweet love letters in his messy handwriting and spontaneous dates to show you he still thinks about you. he's just a loverboy like that.
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Dad!swansea reaction to reader also being on the tulpar or wtv that thing is called??tysm i love your ficss
ʚDAD!SWANSEA X GN!READERɞ
SUMMARY : working with your dad for pony express.
WARNINGS : SPOILERS!!! Jimmy, mention of suicide, injuries, slight Daisuke x reader.
WORD COUNT : 916
A/n : tysm I'm glad you liked my fics!
Click "Keep reading" for more!ʚɞ☟
- Swansea did not expect you to be on that tulpar with him.
- he did hear you talking about applying for a job, he just didn't expect it to be that one.
- well, now you were with him again.
- you were a chef and he was greatful for that since you were good at cooking.
- it actually made him feel a lot better to have you around.
- you were the usual you, just cracking up jokes, making silly doodles and making paper swans for him.
- and to Swansea's absolute horror, you and Daisuke clicked.
- he actually doesn't mind you befriending Daisuke, he just finds it strange how Daisuke stares at you a little too hard when you're not looking.
- you're personality didn't change, just the charming, sometimes bubbly and happy person you were.
- it helped you get along with everyone on that ship (except for Jimmy) and it made Swansea happy to know that you're making friends.
- but he did notice how you and Daisuke were a little too close to each other...
- nevertheless he enjoyed your company with him at the tulpar.
- until the ship crashed...
- Curly did not end up well, he was in the worst state ever.
- seeing how Anya reacted to that, you took it upon yourself to help her take care of your captain.
- unlike Jimmy, you made sure as gentle as possible when it was time to give him painkillers.
- finding out about the food stash only lasting for a few months made you feel uneasy.
- with that, you started feeding yourself less and less, Swansea took notice of it.
- any time he eyed your plate he only found bits of pieces of food while the others had full plates.
- he also took notice when you stopped visiting Anya to get painkillers for your headaches.
- seeing how bad your state was getting, Swansea took it upon himself to confront you (your dad is worried :{) and that's when you broke down.
- you tried to justify why you fed yourself less, you were worried about your crewmates, so you made sure to put less food on your plate so that they can have more, same reasoning for the painkillers, Curly clearly needed them more.
- Swansea felt bad, you were too kind for your own good. If he knew that you were going on that ship with him, he would've stopped you.
- things took turn for the worse.
- you found out what Jimmy had Done to Anya, you started to resent him. Jimmy didn't take it very well.
- things just kept deteriorating, Anya locked herself inside the medical room, judging by her words, she wasn't feeling very well.
- Jimmy thought it was a good idea to get to Anya through the vent by going to the utility room, and to get there, he had to go through Swansea.
- to your absolute horror, you found your dad knocked out, shards of broken glass next to him on the ground. You immediately knew who's the cause of it.
- it was too late tho, Daisuke had already crawled inside the vent Swansea had warned him not too. Causing him to sustain painful injuries.
- you've had enough of Jimmy's bullshit.
- that's it, you snapped at him.
- he was the cause of Anya's suicide.
- he was the cause of Daisuke's painful injuries.
- your dad have had enough, he couldn't bear seeing Daisuke in pain anymore, so he ended his misery with a swing of his axe.
- Jimmy was irresponsible.
- you took the sharpest knife you could find, not bothering to hide it as you made your way to Jimmy.
- too bad for you, Jimmy had over powered you.
- now laying your back on the cold metal wall, pained huffs leaving your mouth, you put a hand on your sliced throat, the knife you've tried to kill Jimmy with now deep in your abdomen.
- the last thing you saw before dying was Swansea looking down at you, visibly furious as he held his axe, he wasn't letting this slide.
- too bad, Jimmy had the gun.
- now tied in a chair, Jimmy let the middle-aged man speak his last words before shooting two bullets in his brain.
- Curly was guilty.
- if he had taken action, none of this would've happened.
- if he had taken action, none of you would've died in those gruesome ways.
- this wasn't what he had expected.
- that wasn't what he had wished for.
- a bad ending.
- jk y'all.
- the tulpar was found not too long after.
- luckily, everyone had made it out alive, except for Jimmy.
- Anya was now in a better state, the hospital staff making sure to look after her.
- Daisuke managed to survive that painful swing, though, he understood Swansea's actions, but his eye sight was a bit foggy.
- Swansea survived both bullets, with one eye remaining, he was glad that you and the others were alive and well.
- speaking of which, you were doing fine, the wound in your stomach hurt and you had a bit of a problem when it came to speaking, thanks for the damaged vocal cords Jimmy.
- Curly was the one who was looked after the most, he was doing alright, he had gotten better treatment and was using a wheelchair for now.
- after the incident, you and the other hung out with each other often.
- Daisuke coming over to visit you and Swansea, he sometimes would spend time with you and your sisters, which brought you closer to each other.
- after all, you've gotten a good ending.
#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing swansea#mouthwashing anya#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing daisuke#mouthwashing jimmy#swansea mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#swansea#dad swansea#anya#curly#daisuke#jimmy#mouthwashing x gn reader#mouthwashing fanfiction#mouthwashing fandom#mouthwashing fanfic#𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜﹏⌕□𖤐
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Rollo Flamme: A Heart's Warmth
Hello ♡ So I've never written for Rollo before, but I got this cute idea for him that I thought would be fun to write. Hopefully you guys like it! Enjoy ♡
Glances and hesitation, walking side by side. The air is cold, yet he feels warm, much too warm as your shoulders brush. He had warned you of the chill coming, weather growing colder as the seasons changed. Yet you didn't listen, neglecting to wear suitable clothes. Where was your winter jacket? Where were your gloves? He should have sent you home, should have told you to come back once you were better dressed. But the way your eyes lit up as you met, coming towards him as if he was something to look forward to… he found the words wouldn't leave his mouth, stuck like his eyes, glued to your features. Do you glance at everyone with that smile, with eyes that shine in adoration?
He turns away when it gets to be too much, unable to meet your stare for long. You were bright, much too bright to linger on, your voice ringing in his ears like chimes. Did you really enjoy his company that much? Speaking to him with such joy, with care meant for those close. Even now he can see you shiver, ill prepared for the day ahead. Was it worth it? Did time with him mean so much?
... He would prefer if you took care of yourself, especially if it involves him, unwilling to allow you to use this outing as excuse. He tells you as much, reminding you to dress appropriately next time, and confirming you had the necessary clothes. If you have gloves, wear them. If you have a winter coat, wear it. You're only going to get sick if you don't... (and that's the last thing he wanted, watching as you tried to hide another shiver).
Your shoulders brush again, causing him to look between you as your hands touch. While he wore gloves, your hands were bare, exposed to the elements. He knew you must have been uncomfortable, the temperature continuing to drop. Perhaps he could... no, he couldn't possibly, shaking his head at the thought. There was no way he could-
And then your hands touch again, shoulders brushing once more as he starts to reconsider. Perhaps he could... his hands starting to shake as he contemplates the idea. With how close you were, he could always make it seem like an accident, waiting until your shoulders brush once more. When the moment doesn't come his eyes narrow in frustration, working up the nerve to put his plan into motion.
"Dress more appropriately next time..." He reminds you again, his hand shaking as it slowly moves closer to yours. When your hands touch he moves away quick, as if burned, before trying again.
"The last thing you need is to get sick." He finishes, turning away as your hands touch once more. You can feel him shake as his pinky moves to hold yours, the warmth of his wool gloves feeling good against your skin. It wasn't much, more of a subtle warmth really, but your chest burned, knowing how much he cared ♡
Hopefully this was good for my first time writing him lol ♡
Thank you! ♡
#♡.sheep writes#♡.twst#♡.rollo flamme#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#rollo flamme#rollo flamme x reader#rollo x reader
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I need anything and everyone Barbatos PLEASE FEED ME
"You sure are something, aren't you?"
He bows respectfully, making you a cup of tea and gently placing it down on the table in front of you, placing a plate with a slice of his famous cake beside the teacup.
"Here you are. I hope everything is to your liking."
(Since you clicked on the "Keep Reading" thingy, I shall gift you a list all about your moments with Barbatos, luckily he made you some tea and a treat to consume while you are reading.)
Warning!!: Slight mature mentions near the end-ish.
During the start of your guys' relationship, (the acquaintance stage), he would most likely observe you every time he's around you, asking you small questions like; "Are you enjoying your stay in Devildom so far?" and "How may I be of service?"
Eventually, after noticing what you liked to eat during supper, and after a good month of observing the little things you do, he'd text you, asking if you'd like to join him in picking up groceries, wanting to spend some quality time with you, finding you interesting.
After your first outing together, he'd learn that he genuinely enjoys your company, and will ask you to go out with him more often, either to pick something up, or simply just to show you new places he thought you might like.
Once it reached the fifth outing together, he'd start to ask you more questions, wanting to get to know you better. Just a few for example;
"Do you have a favorite tea?"
"Do you enjoy sweet flavors? Or perhaps, spicy ones?"
"Would you tell me more about yourself?"
You reached the friend stage after a few months, this is when Barbatos started to make you your favorite tea and whatever pastries you loved once everyone got back to the house of lamentations from RAD.
During the friend stage he would ask how your day was everyday, and how you were doing in all of your classes, asking if you'd like any help with anything or if he could lend you anything to help you study.
During the weekends he would find time to hang out with you after all of his tasks were completed, while also making sure Diavolo maintained his schedule, of course.
The closer you two got, the more he would open up about things he liked, sliding in a compliment towards you at least once a day, commenting mostly on how smart, and how good of a listener you are.
As the end of the Devildom school year came along he would confess his feelings for you, his hands hesitantly cupping your facial cheeks in case you didn't feel the same, and whispering these sweet words to you;
"I don't know if you'll feel the same, and I'm afraid of ruining what we've worked so hard to achieve together... but Y/N... I... Find myself liking you more than I should... more than my own Lord even. I... I love you, Y/N. Please tell me... do you feel the same?"
When you say "yes" his lips part and his eyes widen, as if he were expecting the opposite of your answer, caressing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Soon murmuring just loud enough for you and you alone to hear; "may I place my lips upon yours?"
You two would interlock pinkies in public, but anytime the two of you were around people you both knew like Diavolo or the demon brothers, he would intertwine all of his fingers with yours, feeling more comfortable with these small actions around those he knew.
Behind closed doors, like in your room, he would do anything you asked, holding you close and always touching you gently, treating you as delicately as a rose.
If you said you wanted to take it to the next level he would be hesitant at first, asking you before trying anything, wanting to make sure it was okay. "Is this truly what you would like?"
When others were around you during the short amount of time he wasn't right beside you, he'd get jealous, not liking to admit it, and hiding it well behind a gentle smile. He'd take your hand in his and glance at the people you were once chatting with, kissing the back of your hand as he gazed at them with a firm expression. He wasn't glaring, but he was definitely showing them that you were his lover.
On your birthday he would make all of your favorite meals and desserts, also making your favorite tea and making sure every birthday was the day you most remembered.
After a full year together he would take you to the most beautiful part of Devildom, taking both of your hands in his and slowly kneeling down in front of you, gazing up at you with the most loving expression on his face
"Y/N... The past two years... I've grown a strong passion for you... and because of you I have more love in my soul than I ever knew was possible... will you do the honor of becoming my lovely wife/husband? I cannot picture my future with anyone else, and I truly love you... so... Will you marry me?"
When you agreed to become his wife, he would get up with wide eyes, wrapping his arms around you and giving you the best hug he's ever given you, shaking in happiness and giving you a deep passionate kiss on the lips after a few minutes of holding you.
The wedding had a full chapel, Michael being the priest, Lord Diavolo being Barbatos' best man, and whoever you wanted as your best man/brides maid. All of the demon brothers were invited, a long with Simeon, Luke, Raphael, Thirteen, and whoever else you wanted to be there.
After the wedding he would spend the whole night making love to you, and he couldn't keep his lips off of yours now that he knew you would be his wife forever and ever.
(For anyone that identifies as female); As you became pregnant with his child, he would do everything in his path to take care of you, making sure you were eating healthy, taking folic acid tablets, and even asking Lord Diavolo to grant him some time off so he could spend more time with you and make sure you're doing okay.
You're his highest priority and he would do anything to prove it to you, taking time off to spend with you, doing anything you asked, and making sure you were as happy as can be with him.
"I hope you enjoyed reading all of this."
#obey me#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me brothers#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me mc#obey me satan#obey me barbatos#obey me barbie#obey me shall we date#obey me boys#obey me fluff#obey me x mc#obey me belphegor#obey me fandom#obey me diavolo#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me luke
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Threads - Part 14
Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)
Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!
Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.
Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.
Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives
Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9, 11, and 13), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning. This part contains very brief, light M smut.
Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman
Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea
Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut), Part 12, Part 13 (contains smut)
A/N: Thank you to everyone who responded to my update earlier this week with such kind encouragement! I appreciate all the lovely notes and it helped me feel much better. And now here we are! This chapter opens the second arc of the plot - it's a bit short, but we are setting up for lots of action. Enjoy! -WTT
Part 14
It had been rare in his life that Ereinion had known peace. True, his time as High King had been peaceful for the most part, and he had grown his kingdom significantly over the hundreds of years he had ruled. Yet for himself, there had been little enough of that peace; there had always been problems to solve, matters that demanded his attention.
Not that that had changed. If anything, the demands on his time had grown more numerous over the last five years, with the ever-present threat of the enemy and the need to prepare. The drums of war were loud now, the enemy’s uruk frequently testing their defenses.
But now, there was someone to share those demands with.
Peace, and healing, and rest. Linnea's eyes had promised such when they had first met, and she had kept that promise in every way that a queen and a wife could. As queen, she had taken on a share of his work; she had overseen the logistics of supplying and equipping the growing army, allowing him to focus on strategy and alliances.
Linnea the Good, Círdan had said the singers would name her, and indeed they had done so. She was beloved throughout Lindon, spending hours in the city with the smiths and the weavers and the growers. And in the evening, when they did not have a council meeting to attend, he would often find her in her weaving room surrounded by members of the court or visiting artisans. Everyone wanted to be around her; everyone enjoyed her company.
And as wife, she had brought him the peace of her love, the healing of his lonely heart. The years had passed in the blink of an eye and now there was no imagining how his life might have been without her. Fortunately, he needed to do no such thing.
The sun was barely peeking over the edge of the horizon, and the room was still dim, filled with the greyish light of pre-dawn. But he needed no light to see, not with Linnea in his arms, straddling his thighs with her back against his chest, and her soft, sweet sighs teasing his ear. One of his hands cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers; the other gently stroked between her legs above where they were joined. She was close to her peak, and her body fluttered around him, a sensation that he knew well after those thousand nights and more that he had promised her.
And peace was perhaps a strange word in this moment. But it was the right word, holding his wife, moving slowly within her. The peace of feeling her pleasure as she surrendered to the touch of his hand, to the thrusts of his body. The peace of her release bringing on his own, that feeling of leaving himself and flowing out.
Not everything. Not yet. Soon, they had said, and that vision of her carrying their child ever lingered in his mind. But those drumbeats of war continued to pound, and both of them clung to the hope that they would know when the time was right.
But that release still made Ereinion groan with satisfaction, made him hold Linnea tighter to him as he panted for air. As it ebbed, he slowly eased them both down on the bed, curling himself around her gently, keeping her close for a few minutes more. The sun was rising, and he cherished the sight of her soft skin, the flawless creamy expanse glowing in the brightening light.
His arm lay around her waist, and he felt her take his hand and twine their fingers together.
“Perhaps we should take a day of rest,” she murmured. “We have trained every day for many months. Perhaps we should remain abed today, and begin again on the morrow.”
Ereinion chuckled, pressing a kiss to the back of Linnea’s shoulder. “Abed for the entire day? However might we pass so many hours?”
She echoed his soft laugh, holding his hand tighter. Such was not a luxury they had, and yet he felt the light stirring of temptation as he had before over the years. And there had been times when responsibility had been able to be set aside; there had been afternoon picnics, daytime excursions together down to the city, nights when they had retired early for a few precious hours of privacy.
And mornings like this one. Mornings when they rose later than accustomed, replete with the joy of loving union.
He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, humming quietly in contentment. “The Pilino Tarí would be bereft without their leader,” he said softly. “And should the High King fail to present himself for practice, others might take such for permission to do the same.”
Linnea mumbled noncommittally, and he chuckled again, freeing his hand to smooth it gently over her hip. “Have I not pleased you?” he murmured, kissing the nape of her neck. “Is that why you wish to remain here, melethel? You are unsatisfied?”
As he’d known they would, his words made her laugh. She rolled over in his embrace, and he smiled as she kissed his lips in an emphatic denial of his teasing.
“You know well that it is quite the opposite, meleth nín,” she whispered. “I am so very satisfied that I cannot possibly move from this bed.”
He loved her. He loved her so much that he oft felt that he could not contain it; there was simply too much to hold inside. Thankfully, he did not have to - he could pour her full of it and she would take everything he had to give, and return just as much.
He kissed her again quickly. Far too quickly, but the minutes were slipping by and they needed to rise. His servants and hers would come soon, and they would have to make haste with their breakfast before it was time to ride out. It was not the first time that that had been the case - but now, as then, he felt absolutely no regret over the need to hurry.
She was worth it. She was worth all of it.
To the outsider’s eye, Lindon sometimes appeared to be nothing more than a great forest, its buildings half-hidden by the trees. Yet the city itself stretched for miles, and its outskirts included several large fields where its armed forces could train en masse.
Five years had been enough time to establish those training camps, and it was one such that they were bound for that morning, as had been the routine for months. Training, often followed by council sessions in the afternoon, or an excursion to Lindon if Linnea needed to meet with the crafters who were supplying the growing army. She could not complain about a lack of tasks, and yet, she knew that Gil-galad was far more occupied even than she.
She glanced to her right where he rode beside her, sitting tall and proud in the saddle. Over the years they had been wed, she had learned that this was where he was most at home; Gil-galad was a soldier, a warrior, at his heart, and his armor sat upon him like a second skin. The reins were held easily in his hand, able to be tightened in an instant if needed, but his mount knew him well. A small shift of his weight, a light tap of the heel, was all that was normally required to guide the horse.
Linnea did not fool herself that she was his equal. Yet the years of practice had grown her skill, especially given that her own horse had been with her nearly the entire time. Súrë was as light of foot as the wind she was named for, a soft grey mare that had been only a year old when Linnea had first come to Lindon. Now in her prime, she and Linnea had learned together, and in doing so had become the best of friends.
The camp was already bustling as it came into view; it made her smile, remembering the reason why they were tardy. It was a continual balance, the demands of ruling with the needs of a marriage - and the two of them had not always been perfect at achieving it. But they had learned, and they had done so together every step of the way.
Training, however, was a separate endeavor.
She met Gil-galad’s eyes briefly, exchanging a soft smile with him before she turned Súrë. Her guards fell in behind her; his would continue on, following him to where the soldiers were drilling in order to receive reports from the officers. After that, he would join the drills, considering it important for his troops to see him practicing alongside them. She agreed entirely, and had made his philosophy her own over the years.
The Pilino Tarí had not waited for her; she would not have expected them to. They were at the far end of the field, and as she cantered up, she watched with pride as they worked: the Queen’s Arrows, formed four years ago and comprised of two hundred of Lindon’s best archers. Afoot, they were still a force to be reckoned with, but their power lay in their horseback training; they could shoot mounted, at speed, decimating the enemy as they galloped forth. Their saddles and tack were specially crafted, carrying additional quivers of arrows on either side in front of the rider’s leg.
They had yet to be tested in battle. Linnea was unsure if she was thankful for that or not - there was only so much they could learn from training. But she had seen the worry in Gil-galad’s eyes when they had first spoken of her forming the company; he had given his consent and his support, and he plainly saw the wisdom in it. As King, his decision was clear; as husband, his heart still fretted.
But she could do no less for her realm. Not after gripping her bow for the first time; not after feeling it sing in her hands when she had shyly taken it to the practice ranges, alone, not even bringing Gil-galad with her. She had sworn her guards to secrecy about her visits; it felt like a private thing, exploring her skill, seeing if her instincts had been right.
It made her smile again for a moment, remembering the pride on Gil-galad’s face when she had finally shown him.
You have a gift for it, beloved.
She brought Súrë to a halt off to the side of the practice area, waiting patiently for a convenient moment to join them. Her leftenants were on the field with the troops; while she might be the commander in name, she had been under no illusion of being qualified to direct the force in a real battle. In time, perhaps, but for the present she had chosen a pair of seasoned veterans to advise her.
Tallagor, her First Leftenant, was first to see her. Second Leftenant Malfin was beside him; he called to her briefly and then turned his horse, riding around behind the archers that were waiting to make their runs across the practice field. It was a wide open span with targets positioned at irregular intervals, as well as boulders and fallen trees and other obstacles. The field was rearranged regularly, forcing the riders to continually adapt and adjust as they would in a real battle.
Tallagor reined up next to her, nodding at her as he did so. “High Queen.”
“On dhea,” she nodded back. “How goes it this morning?”
“Very well. We have already nearly completed one rotation.” He cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Would you care to take the field before we move the targets for another round?”
She liked Tallagor; she liked him enough to give him a wry smile. He was teasing her in his dry way about her tardiness, and she was not above acknowledging it. Súrë snorted, as if she could read her rider’s thoughts, and stamped a foot in impatience.
Linnea chuckled at that, reaching out and stroking the side of Súrë’s neck to settle the horse. “Indeed,” she smiled. “I must train just as the rest of you do. I will join the ranks now.”
The practice field was divided in half, allowing for two riders to proceed simultaneously. At times they would ride in groups, learning how to work together and to avoid members of their own company, but today they were proceeding individually across the field.
The remaining troops, although few enough, would have deferred to her instantly. But Linnea waited like the rest of them, taking her place at the end of one of the two lines. Her guards had taken up positions a short distance away, allowing her as much freedom as they could, and as she joined the line Malfin rode up beside her.
“High Queen,” she murmured. “It is a fine day for training, is it not?”
“It is.” Linnea smiled, keeping the reins loose in her hand and allowing Sure to naturally advance as the line moved. “And I see the company is in good form. My thanks to you both for making a start before I arrived.”
Malfin nodded. “Of course, High Queen. Tallagor and I were speaking this morning; we thought that next week, we might train in the forests as opposed to camp.”
They had done so before, and Linnea nodded her approval. Changing the practice course was helpful, but a real location with all its variables was an excellent training exercise.
“I think full armor as well, then,” she agreed. “Let us make a proper day of it.”
Normally for training, the Pilino Tarí wore light leather cuirasses over long gambesons and leggings; Linnea was in such herself. But for battle they would outfit as full cavalry, as would their horses. If they were going to train in the forests, it was a good time to practice with the extra weight as well.
“High Queen.”
There was little more to say, not with how regularly they saw each other to train. She had up-to-date supply requests and equipment reviews, and there was no need to ask the same questions every day. Instead, Linnea contented herself with watching the troops ahead of her as they proceeded across the field. Malfin stayed quiet by her side; Linnea had always found her restful company, and there were few better with the bow. The Pilino Tarí were in good hands.
It was almost peaceful, despite the nature of the activity. The fury and urgency and heart-pounding danger of a battle could not be replicated on a practice field. Here, the sun was bright; the scents of leather and horse filled her nostrils. She could feel Súrë’s warmth through her leggings. She could hear murmurs of quiet conversation, even laughter.
The last rider in front of her began the course. With a nod, Malfin moved off, allowing Linnea space to prepare for her run.
Linnea took a deep breath, gathering herself. Her bow was held in her left hand, not too tight and not too loose. Her right hand was free to draw and nock her first arrow; that was always part of training, practicing the art of loading the bow while on the move. In battle, the first arrow could be prepared, but afterward, one’s life could depend on how quickly a new arrow could be found and shot.
She touched Súrë’s flanks, and the horse leapt forward.
Three years of practice, for an Elf, was a drop in the sea. And Linnea had spent those years working hard to surrender the comfort of the reins and learn to communicate with her horse through her legs alone. But Súrë had learned well; she nimbly skirted the first of the obstacles - a pile of tall boulders - as Linnea drew an arrow from one of the side quivers and notched it to the bow string. The first target was a long strip of bark on a pole, a short distance from the boulders, and she easily hit it as Súrë passed by.
One down. Many to go.
The targets were not only scattered irregularly, they were also at varying heights. Here, one practically hidden by the long grass, representing a crouching enemy. Here, one high above, an enemy hiding in the branches of a tree. Nothing allowing for routine, everything requiring the rider to adapt and improvise. Tallagor was old, older than Gil-galad even; he was a veteran of many battles, and had offered many good thoughts on how best to train.
Súrë leapt a jumbled heap of logs as Linnea shot for one of the low targets. Her arrow flew wide and she grimaced, but there was no time for that - there were two more targets in quick succession. She hit those and then continued, urging Súrë faster for a better challenge, and the horse was eager for it; she lunged into a gallop, rocketing through the rest of the course at close to her top speed.
At the end of the field, they turned back, running the obstacles once more. And this time, Linnea did not miss one target.
She allowed herself to feel a glow of pride as Súrë slowed to a walk back at the lines of troops that had already finished. It was foolish to expect that she would never miss in battle, but it was a pleasant start to the training day.
Tallagor and Malfin were waiting for her there, and she offered them a smile as she rode up. “I believe we are ready to reset the course. May I - ”
“High Queen.”
Slowly, Linnea turned in the saddle.
She had been distracted. She had not heard the Elf running up, but as he came to a halt, she knew him. He was red-haired, named Vorohil, and she remembered his twin brother Vorohir from her first months in Lindon when they had visited the Havens.
He stopped, looking up at her, and her blood ran cold. There was a hint of trepidation on his face, and her first thought was that there had been some sort of accident during the drills, that Gil-galad had been hurt - but no. She would have felt it if so. Whatever it was, it was not that.
“The High King asks for you,” Vorohil said. “A messenger has arrived from the Greenwood.”
The trepidation made more sense now, although it did nothing to dispel the chill inside her. Vorohil was fearful, although he had given her no specifics. Perhaps he did not know what news the messenger had brought, but he also did not know that it was good news.
“Where is the King?”
“This way, my lady.”
Linnea was ahorse, and Vorohil was on foot, but she kept Súrë to a brisk trot and followed him across the entire length of the camp. To her left she could see the troops continuing to drill, oblivious to whatever news awaited her.
It was hard, in a way, to believe that the news could be dire. Not in the bright, late morning sun; not with how the day had begun.
She saw Gil-galad even before Vorohil stopped. He was standing outside the infantry commander's field tent, and beside him was the messenger from the Greenwood. She knew that, for she recognized Arondir, even though it had been many years since they had seen one another. But he was an Elf, he had changed little; even the sadness in his eyes for his lost love was still just as present.
He bowed to her as she slid off Súrë and came up to them, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on Gil-galad. He was holding a scroll, but he did not offer it to her - and when he spoke, she understood why.
The message was plain enough. There was no need to read it.
“The Greenwood is under siege,” he said. “The enemy has come forth. And Oropher calls for our aid.”
TBC....
#rings of power#gil galad#gil-galad#the rings of power#trop fanfiction#gil-galad x ofc#fanfic#fanfiction#fix it fic#fix it au
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Ok Mouthwashing crew cat assignment as well as hcs.
(all images are taken from google search)
Curly: the hardest for me to assign, I would say Main Coon or LaPerm. They have personally similar to Curly's and appearance vise too.
Cat Curly would get along with all the cat crew. He loves to sit near windows and observe the outside world. His favourite toy would be fish shaped, but he doesn't have any strong preference. This kitty is very polite and clever: when you call your cats he understands you and gathers all others cats. The best bug hunter, Curly will save you from any unwanted bug. Brings stuff to you too, like small trinkets or even his prey (still alive though, be careful!!). Camera likes him and he does very good poses.
Post stove cat Curly would be alert and quiet. Unfortunately he would be depressed, having troubles playing and eating, preferring to sleep at some secure place without people. Meanwhile cat Jimmy would become more confident and erratic, making trouble for everyone in the house. Curly wouldn't like taking his meds at all, his meows are extremely hard to listen to. Cat Anya could be found near him more often.
Jimmy: street Tabby cat with evil looking green eyes (found with flees and diseases too💚💚💚)
Cat Jimmy is a menace. Knows he is not allowed to scratch furniture and walls but still does it. Takes others' toys and hides them all the time. Fail cat because he can't groom himself properly (cat Curly has to help). Meows are weird and loud: DO NOT close any doors. Jimmy loves hunting, always in hunting mode but as mentioned above he is a fail cat. Play fights with Curly a lot, once he tried with Swansea and it didn't end well for him. HATES patting but doesn't mind head scratching. His tail is a no-no. Steals food from others, especially Curly (because he lets him), so you have to lock Jim away somewhere.
Swansea: Persian is made for him!!
Cat Swansea is very old and independent. He's hard to read, but if you manage to learn how, you'll be rewarded. Likes to be alone and watch the order in the house from his favourite spot. Quite distressed if something is amiss and doesn't like new stuff and strangers, especially kids but he has the saint's patience. Flicks tail in annoyance, flicks tail in annoyance, flicks tail in -- Swansea can eat anything, but he knows he's not allowed to eat human food. Would still look veeery intently at the ice cream you bring. If it doesn't contain chocolate, give him a lick or too....
Anya: unsurprisingly Russian Blue, from my experience very gentle cats.
She doesn't get along with all the cats. She and cat Jimmy have had nasty fights (he always initiated them), other cats had to step in as well as you. Anya enjoys human company more, especially if it's the humans she knows. Otherwise she hides somewhere for a while and then tentatively returns to sniff newcomers. She can sense negative emotions well so she will come and sit on the lap and purr... for hours. Cat Anya loves sleeping beside you or under your covers with you. She chirps and looks at you when you call her. A foodie, don't feed cat Anya too much or she will get sick.
Daisuke: Japanese bobtail cat with calico tri colour coat (cute bell provided)
Cat Daisuke is a menace but in light-hearted sense. He loves to explore your house, always gets stuck somewhere or breaks something but never on purpose. If you open a cabinet or a drawer, expect to find him sitting there (he will learn to open things himself anyway). Jumps when scared but quickly recovers. He's a young cat so he's still very active, loooves to play, the faster the game the better. Doesn't like to play alone though, he needs attention from anyone or he will sulk. Successfully begs for treats: Daisuke looks very cute and polite and you hate yourself for caving in every single time. Sticks to cat Swansea: one time Swansea hisses at Daisuke, the other time he grooms the younger cat. Strange.
#thought about kissing jimmy's “little greasy head” and got blessed with idea#i think there was a warrior cats au circulating somewhere#mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#swansea mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing
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Papa Bear Material - (Captain Price Fic) - Matchmaking
A/N: I hope you guys can be patient with me as I set up the scene and context for the story! I know you might be eager for Papa Bear John, so if you can't wait, feel free to scroll all the way down or check out the short version. But if you’d like to enjoy the full background and get all the details leading up to the moment, stick around here for the original version. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! Warning: Mention of child abuse in the story. Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention.
Y/N stepped into the familiar warmth of the grill house, the smoky aroma of sizzling meat mingling with the distinct hum of rugby commentary from the TV above the bar. The place had that well-worn, comfortable charm—like an old friend. She spotted her old colleagues almost immediately, seated around a table, beers in hand, laughter spilling into the air.
“Oi! Look who’s gracing us with her posh, artsy presence!” came the teasing voice of one of the officers. “You still wearing them fancy shoes, Y/N?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips as she made her way over. "Oh, please. I’d have to sell a few more prototypes just to afford these," she said, giving her Gucci Princeton Leather slip-ons a quick glance. "You know, designing and crafting, prototypes for others, specially demanding architects and students—it's harder than catching a criminal on a Sunday shift."
The group laughed, and one of them raised their glass. “Come on, that’s not true. Bet you’re all over the art scene now, living the dream!”
“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she slid into her seat, “if by ‘living the dream’ you mean sometimes starving in a studio, getting rejected by every gallery in town, and designing things no one’s ever heard of, yeah, it’s just like the movies.”
They all burst out laughing again. One of the lads signaled to the waiter, who was making his rounds. "Oi, get her a proper drink," he said with a grin, "she looks like she needs it."
A tap of beer was quickly placed in front of her, and she gave her colleagues a mock glare, but couldn't help but smile. "You lot are too kind. Just wait ‘til you see my next masterpiece—a painting of you lot after too many pints."
As the laughter faded, they began catching up, each group diving into stories and teasing. "Any funny incidents lately?" one of the officers asked, a grin spreading across his face.
Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, plenty. You lot wouldn't believe half of them, but I'm still waiting for the call-up for my big art show... not holding my breath, though."
The conversation shifted, and soon enough, someone asked, “When’s your next reservist shift, then? You’re still doing that, right?”
Y/N leaned back in her chair, taking a moment before answering. "Ah, next month. Got my refresher course first, so I'll see you lot after that." She picked up her glass, the cool beer sliding down her throat as she sighed contentedly.
It had been a long day—too long. But, she was glad to be here, catching up with these old faces, the familiar rhythm of their banter and laughter settling into her. The worries of her day faded, replaced with the warmth of good company and the taste of a well-earned pint.
The table buzzed with laughter and the clink of silverware as everyone dug into their meal. Y/N, content with a bite of lamb chop, was about to take another when Kyle’s voice broke through.
“So, Y/N,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward, “how long’s it been since you’ve been single?”
Y/N paused, looking at him like he’d just asked if she wanted to run a marathon. She narrowed her eyes, the chop still in her hand. “You’re not about to start playing matchmaker, are you, Gaz?”
Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “Well, you know... I might have a perfect guy in mind. Could introduce you next time.”
The table erupted into teasing shouts, and a few of the women at the table nudged her playfully. “Ooh, a ‘perfect guy,’ eh?” one of them said with a sly smile. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get you out there, Y/N!”
“Yeah, yeah,” another girl chimed in, grinning. “You can’t stay single forever, love. You need to live a little!”
Y/N laughed, raising her glass of beer to her lips. “I’ve been living plenty, thank you very much,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve been single since I was 22. Too much going on in my life. Can barely keep up with myself, let alone anyone else.”
One of the guys leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t just keep dodging the love life thing forever. You’ve gotta try at least once. Who knows? Maybe this ‘perfect guy’ will be just what you need.”
“Or,” another woman piped up, waggling her eyebrows, “he’ll just be an excuse for a nice date night and some free food. Win-win.”
Y/N put a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Oh, I see how it is. You lot just want me to get free dinner at someone else’s expense!”
Kyle laughed, raising his beer. “Well, if you don’t like him, I’ll pay for the meal myself. But I’m tellin’ ya, he’s worth a shot.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Tell you what—if I get to choose the place, I’ll consider it. But no more ‘perfect guy’ nonsense, alright?”
Her colleagues cheered, raising their own glasses. “To Y/N’s perfect guy!” someone shouted, and the table erupted into more laughter.
Y/N just rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her lamb chop. “Alright, alright. You lot are relentless.”
As the teasing continued, Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Alright then, who’s this ‘perfect guy’ Gaz has in mind? One of your mates?”
Kyle leaned back, clearly proud of his matchmaking skills. “Yeah, mate. His name’s Price. Former SAS, top bloke—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you. He’s solid. Got a good head on his shoulders.”
The table went silent for a moment. Some of the guys and girls exchanged glances, clearly impressed by the mention of SAS.
“Ooh, SAS, huh?” one of the women said, grinning. “That’s like, the real deal, right? Tough, mysterious, probably has a six-pack or maybe even eight! Hidden under all that tactical gear.”
“Oh yeah, totally,” another guy added, practically waggling his eyebrows. “Rugged, muscular, probably a bit brooding. Can already see the whole ‘I’ve been through the worst’ vibe.”
“Sounds like someone’s got a lot of mystery about him,” one of the other women teased, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Could be just the thing you need, Y/N. A real adventure.”
Kyle, clearly delighted by the reactions, went on, “Yeah, you’ll like him. He’s been through the ringer, mate. The kind of bloke you don’t wanna mess with. Tough as nails.”
The group went on, each person adding their own humorous speculation about Price’s rugged, mysterious persona—tough military training, intense eyes, dangerous aura. The teasing was infectious, and everyone was in on it now, laughing and playfully suggesting how wild or sexy Price must be.
But Y/N’s expression had already shifted. Her hand, still holding the lamb chop, froze mid-air, and she stared into the distance, her eyes darkening as she took in what Kyle had said. The laughter around her faded into the background, her own thoughts taking over.
One of the guys, noticing the shift, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked, clearly sensing the change in her mood.
Y/N blinked, breaking out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine,” she said quietly, but her tone was noticeably subdued.
Kyle, still excited, didn’t notice. “I’m telling you, mate, he’s a proper top guy. You’ll get along fine with him, I’m sure of it.”
But Y/N’s eyes had taken on a more somber look. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her voice much softer than before. “Look, I’m not saying all military guys are the same, but…” She paused, her hand tightening around her beer glass. “My father was ex-military. Bit of a bastard, to be honest. Mentally and verbally abusive. So, I’ve... never really been into that kind of thing, if I’m honest.”
The teasing stopped abruptly. The table grew quieter as her words sank in. Kyle, finally sensing the shift, looked at her with a soft expression. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything heavy, Y/N. Just thought I was being helpful…”
Y/N gave a small, weary smile, waving it off. “It’s alright, Gaz. You didn’t know.”
One of the women, noticing her mood, reached out and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you don’t have to meet him, Y/N. No pressure.”
Y/N nodded, the smile returning just a little, though it was faint. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Just not sure I’m ready for... anything like that right now.”
The table grew quieter as the conversation shifted away from matchmaking and towards other, lighter topics. Laughter bubbled up again, but Y/N’s mind wandered back, the memories creeping in despite the cheerful chatter around her.
Her father… It didn’t take much to bring his image to the forefront of her mind. The memories of him were sharp and unpleasant, lingering like an unshakable shadow. He’d been in the military for years before moving into MI5 when she was a child. After he retired, though, he never really left the mindset behind.
She could still hear his voice in her head, cutting through the air, as if he was right there. The constant little digs—his sharp tone when he'd see her, trying to maintain that military discipline, as if he could control every aspect of her life. Every time he looked at her, it felt like he was seeing an enemy, like she was still just a soldier under his command.
He’d belittle her. Criticize everything, from her clothes to how she held herself, as though she were an extension of his authority. It wasn’t just the verbal abuse, though. There were moments where the anger would spill over. He’d hit her, sometimes, not out of frustration but out of a need to keep her “in line.” If she argued or disagreed with him, there were times he’d drag her out of the house, leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere just to teach her a “lesson,” and then come back hours later, violently pulling her into the car as though nothing had happened.
Y/N shook her head, pushing the dark thoughts back. She’d spent so long trying to bury them, trying to focus on anything else that didn’t make her feel like a child again, helpless under his control.
It wasn’t until that one night when she was 19—kicked out of the house, no place to go, just a bag and nothing but cold streets—that she decided enough was enough. She didn’t have the luxury of time or an easy choice. She’d had nowhere to go but a friend’s couch for a few nights, and that’s when she made the decision: she would join the police force. She needed the money, the stability, and more than anything, the chance to break free from the past.
The police program offered her a way out, an escape, a way to stand on her own two feet and start building something for herself. At the time, it also came with education, which was a huge draw. She could pay for her tuition while working, get the training she needed to eventually leave all that behind. She’d never intended to stay long in the force, but it turned out to be the best decision she could have made, even though it came with its own set of challenges.
Her eyes flickered back to the table, the laughter still ringing around her, but now muffled, distant. She had come a long way since those dark days, but sometimes—like now—the weight of it all crept back in.
It was easy for her to laugh along with the others, easy to let the jokes flow. But sometimes, when the noise died down, she could still feel the sting of her past, just beneath the surface.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as someone nudged her elbow. “Oi, you alright, Y/N? You went all quiet there,” one of her friends said, concern lacing their voice.
Y/N blinked, shaking herself free of the memories. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she replied, taking another swig of her beer. “Just a long day, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”
They didn’t press further, thankfully, but she could feel their eyes on her for a moment before the conversation shifted again.
The laughter from the table faded as everyone began to gather their things, slipping out one by one into the cool night air. Y/N lingered for a moment, the clink of glasses and murmurs of her friends still echoing in her ears, but it felt distant now—like a tune she was no longer part of. As she stepped outside, the damp pavement underfoot caught the glow of the streetlights, each step sharp and purposeful. She let out a long breath, the chill of the evening sinking into her skin. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—quiet, space to herself, far away from the constant chatter and noise that seemed to follow her every move.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen. An unknown number. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother answering, but something told her to check it.
She unlocked the screen and swiped open the message.
"Hi, Y/N. John Price here. Gaz gave me your number. We should grab a drink sometime. Maybe chat about a few things. Cheers."
Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing. Her thumb hovered over the screen as her mind scrambled for a reaction. John Price. The John Price? The former SAS legend, now retired, and apparently still involved in some highly classified business? What the hell was Gaz thinking?
"What the fuck, Gaz!!!" Y/N hissed under her breath, staring at the message with disbelief. Her gaze snapped up and scanned the street. She could see her friends walking ahead, far down the street now, their backs turned. Gaz, that bloody menace, had passed her number along without a second thought.
She stormed a few paces ahead, but her steps were more frustrated now. Her mind raced as she considered her options. She didn’t want any part of whatever ‘chat’ Price had in mind. She wasn’t a fool—she knew how these things worked. She could already picture the smug look on Gaz’s face when he thought he was doing her a favour, setting her up with some ‘good guy’ from his circle of military buddies. But military men… well, she had enough of that in her life already.
Y/N scrolled through her contacts, her fingers moving like clockwork. She was about to fire off a quick response to tell Price to kindly go to hell when she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her face looked tired, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her. She could feel the cold seeping through her coat, and for a moment, it was like the weight of everything—the years of trying to make it on her own, the trauma, the nightmares—settled right back on her shoulders.
She quickly closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. A drink with John Price? Yeah, that was definitely not going to happen. But Gaz? He was going to hear about this. She didn’t care if he was busy with some top-secret ops or whatnot—this was a step too far.
"Next round’s on you, Gaz," she muttered to herself as she walked toward the corner, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance and amusement begin to churn in her stomach. ----------
Y/N's eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the morning, spilling through the gap in her curtains. The events of last night—Gaz's matchmaking attempt and the unexpected message from John Price—already felt like distant memories, lost in the haze of sleep. She groaned and stretched, her arms reaching out before she swung them over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the cool wooden floor.
She was hungry. More than that, she was starving.
With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling the weight of yesterday’s long hours still in her bones. Her body moved on autopilot as she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee hit her senses before she even flicked on the kettle. The day ahead was full—pottery to finish, pieces to deliver, and the usual grind of meeting deadlines for design projects. But the pottery was the steady foundation. It brought in consistent income each month, even if it required hours of backbreaking work.
The market was always a good outlet for her—hands-on, personal, where customers could appreciate the craftsmanship and effort she poured into each item. She enjoyed the physicality of it, the quiet satisfaction of shaping clay into something functional and beautiful. She had a reputation for it, too—well-known in the area for her distinctive, handmade pottery, with a smooth, glossy finish that always caught the light just right.
After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, she shuffled into her workshop. There was something grounding about the familiar rhythm of her craft. The kiln had cooled overnight, and her latest batch of pottery—plates, mugs, vases, and a few statement pieces—was ready for inspection. Y/N carefully removed the items, one by one, from the kiln. The glaze had set perfectly, giving each piece a rich, lustrous shine. She ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces, admiring the precision of her work. Her hands were still stained with the evidence of yesterday’s labor, but it didn’t bother her. It was part of the process.
As she carefully packed the finished pieces into protective wrapping for transport, she nodded in approval. She may have put the hours in, but the result was always worth it. The market would love these.
Later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, examining her reflection with a critical eye. She’d always believed that people treated you better when you looked your best—when you seemed approachable and friendly. And since she was about to step into the public eye again, it was important to put a little effort in. She applied her makeup with precision, the soft strokes highlighting her features, then slipped on a small pair of gold-plated silver earrings that added a touch of chic to her look.
She was wearing a loose white linen shirt with long sleeves, its cuffs casually rolled up. The shirt was light and breathable, perfect for a day of carrying boxes and setting up her stall. Over it, she tied her craftsman apron—dark, worn from years of use, but still functional, with enough pockets to hold all the tools she needed.
Her wide-legged chinos reached just to her ankles, the fit comfortable and practical, paired with her slip-on loafers—a soft, leather pair she’d had for years. It was casual yet still put-together, an outfit that made her feel at ease while still ready for whatever the day might throw at her.
She practiced her smile in the mirror—a grin that wasn’t too forced or strained, but warm and inviting. Some days, it felt like a performance. But she’d learned long ago that a good smile could sell a piece of pottery. And that was what she needed today: to sell, to engage, to make her art speak for her.
With a deep breath, she adjusted her apron, straightened her shoulders, and gave the mirror one final smile before grabbing the first box of finished work.
She had a day of selling ahead. And though sometimes the world felt heavy, she was ready to face it head-on. Her pottery, her designs—they were the bright spots in her life, the reasons she’d fought so hard to keep going, to stay grounded.
With another steadying breath, she stepped out into the cool morning air, the day ahead waiting for her.
-----------
Once Y/N had finished unpacking and arranging her wares at her stall, she took a moment to step back and admire the display. The pieces were neatly arranged—vases catching the light, mugs stacked just right, and her signature pottery glistening with its smooth, glossy finish. She felt a small sense of pride bubble up, but it was quickly tempered by the hustle of the market around her. There was no time to linger; there were customers to engage, products to sell, and a whole day ahead.
Grabbing her phone, she tapped into the group chat with her friends, which, of course, included Gaz. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed out a quick message:
“Hey guys, I’m set up at the market today—stall 30 if you’re in the area and fancy dropping by. Would be good to catch up if you have the time! 😎”
She added a few relevant emojis, then hit send, tucking her phone back into her apron pocket with a sigh. If they could make it, great. If not, no big deal. It would be nice to see a familiar face, but she’d already grown accustomed to the solitude of her work.
As she glanced up from her phone, she was met with the hustle and bustle of market-goers milling around her stall. Some stopped to admire the pottery, others just passed by, lost in their own little world. Either way, it was all part of the game. She adjusted a few pieces that had shifted during the unpacking and waited for her first customer of the day. -------------
Y/N was arranging the last of her pieces when a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped up to her stall. She glanced up, quickly taking in his dark blue shirt, trim hair, and the kind of build that made him look like he could carry a truck on his back if he wanted to. The guy looked like Papa Bear material—muscular, solid, and with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him.
He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning over the pottery on display, then back at her. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly attractive he was. He had the kind of look that made heads turn, even if he didn’t seem to be trying. She could feel a little flutter of nerves creeping in, but she pushed it away, focusing on the pieces in front of her.
"Hi there," she said, forcing a smile as she adjusted a mug on the table.
"Hey," the man replied, his voice deep and steady. "You’ve got some brilliant work here."
Y/N nodded, her hands still busy with arranging. "Thanks. I’ve been at it for years, trying to get the perfect finish."
There was a pause as he looked at her again, this time with a more direct gaze. “You’ve definitely nailed it. Everything looks... well, perfect.”
Y/N felt a little warmth in her cheeks. What’s with this guy? she thought, still unsure of why she was feeling so off-kilter. He didn’t strike her as the type who would be interested in pottery, let alone strike up a conversation about it.
Then, with a small smile, he stepped forward and said, “I’m John, by the way. Gaz sent me.”
Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Gaz’s name. Gaz? The first thought that shot through her head was, No, no, not this again. Her stomach turned as she realized that Gaz hadn't given up on matchmaking her with this Papa Bear of a man. Gaz!! You matchmaking bastard, why'd you do this to me!!
She tried to shake off the feeling. "Gaz, huh? Of course. I should’ve known."
John’s smile softened. “Yeah, he said I should come over and introduce myself. Said you’re someone I should meet.”
Y/N gave him a wry grin, glancing at the ground for a moment. "That sounds like something Gaz would say." She forced a casual tone, but inside, she was already second-guessing everything.
There was a brief, knowing pause between them before John continued, his voice a bit quieter but warm. "I’ve seen the pictures Gaz sent me... you’ve definitely exceeded that. And you look even better in person."
Her heart pounded, and she could feel her pulse picking up, but she didn’t want to let him see how much his words affected her. Gaz... you absolute idiot.
John continued, stepping a bit closer. "I don’t usually do this, but I’d love to take you out sometime. Dinner, drinks... whatever you fancy."
Y/N felt a flush creeping up her neck. This was it, wasn't it? Gaz and his matchmaking nonsense had really gone this far... She looked up at him, her expression softer now, but still holding a hint of surprise. This guy wasn’t just tall and fit; he was exactly the kind of person Gaz would go on about.
“Look, I am a little busy right now... uhhmmm,” she said, but there was a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.
John smiled, his eyes twinkling with something playful. “Take your time. I’m patient.”
Y/N sighed inwardly. Gaz hadn't given up on this... She couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it all, even as she admired John's presence. Big guy, military background, and that soft, paternal charm. She’d met her fair share of tough guys, but there was something different about John Price. The way he carried himself—genuine, steady, and disarmingly kind—was impossible to ignore. A/N: I do hope you enjoyed that one! I’ll be writing another chapter when inspiration strikes, or feel free to drop any suggestions you might have!
#Captain Price#Retired! Captain Price#Captain John Price#Captain Price Call of Duty#Captain Price x Reader#Captain John Price x You#Captain Price x Y/N#captain price x female reader#Original Female Character#Papa Bear#Papa Bear John Price#Call of Duty fic
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