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mochiyoonfi · 4 years ago

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Our Utopia Final Chapter

Synopsis: final chapter of Our Utopia!!

Warnings: Immediate smut. Followed on from Our Utopia PT 2 mentions of rape, assault and trauma.

Words: 3.9 k

A/n: I was in hospital dealing with some things, but now I’m back!! There was too many text blocks to fit both of these in one part sorry.

It had been a while since your.. more than awkward talk with Yoongi, when he invited you over to his apartment.

Stepping into his room, you were nervous at the prospect of so much privacy with him. But when he took your hand to lead you into the bedroom, one with rose petals surrounding the bed, your nerves disapperated. Romantic music played softly in the background, soothing your ears.

He smiled awkwardly. “Is it cheesy?”

Tears flowed from your eyes. “No.. it’s wonderful.”

Launching into a speech about how he admired your strength and will to fight through your trials, you felt bad to feel your desire growing.

Why was him speaking so damn attractive?

Speech finished, he grabbed your hand, a seductive grin washing over his face.

“I want to be perfect.” He whispered to you through passionate kisses.

You shook your head. “You already are.”

Surging forward, he pushed his body against you. Hands gripping your waist and the back of your head as he thirsted for your touch. He craved your body in the same way you craved his.

Fingers tracing the outline of his toned stomach, he took purchase at a spot on your neck. You moaned into his mouth, his lips leaving a loving hickey. His hands slipped under your shirt, sliding it away from your body. Right as you cringed at the open air, he kissed a line up your collarbone.

“You’re beautiful. More beautiful than any angel.”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “How many angels have you seen in your life?”

He couldn’t suppress his smirk as he replied, “Only you.”

You laughed, cringe taking over, even when it was the sweetest compliment.

His hands danced over your stomach as his innocent eyes searched yours for permission. You nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Yoongi sighed out loud happily as he slipped your shorts down from your hips. You whimpered, feeling his fingers press against your panties. He looked up, eyes staring a hole into your mouth. “Don’t worry baby. I’ll make you feel amazing.”

Pulling your panties down, he kissed upward towards your pussy. His fingers slid over your opening, pressing inwards slightly.

You shuddered. “Y-Yoongi..”

He looked up. “What’s wrong baby?”

“I want.. I want you.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he smirked. “And you’ll have me. I just don’t want it to hurt.”

In the middle of his sentence he slipped his finger inside your pussy, other fingers dancing over your swollen entrance as you bit back a moan.

Grinding your hips upwards you twisted into his rough fingers, loving the way they sped against your most sensitive area.

His other hand wandered from holding your thighs spread to your breast, massaging it, pulling at the erect bud of your nipples. You whined again, your senses on fire as he gave you attention slowly and lovingly.

“You’re so wet..” He marveled. The attention he lavished on your pussy made you shiver.

He entered a second finger, causing the both of you to sigh in unison when it slid in all the way to his knuckle.

An electrifying feeling shot through your body as he began to pump his two fingers inside.

“Shit baby.. I..” He groaned at the lewd noises your pussy was making. “I.. I want to take you right now. I just want to fuck you until you don’t want anything else but me.”

You whimpered, grabbing his hair slightly to edge him towards your face.

“Then do it. I’m yours.”

His lips smashed against yours, tongue instantly slipping inside your mouth. It swirled inside before he leaned back, your spit slightly visible on his lips.

Still perfect, you thought.

He undid his belt as his eyes never left yours. Finally he slid his boxers down, revealing his semi hard cock. It wasn’t too long. It wasn’t too big. It was pretty normal.

And that’s what turned you on the most.

How did he make normal so fucking attractive?

“I’m going in baby.”

You whined your agreements.

His cock pressed against your entrance, pressure enough for you to tremble. After what seemed like years but were only seconds, his cock was enveloped by your pussy.

Yoongi leaned against your chest, groaning as he subtly rocked into you. “T-tell me when I can move.”

Mind swarming in pleasure and serenity, you forced your eyes open to stare at the absolutely divine man on top of you. “M-move.”

He hissed as his cock sunk deeper inside. Finally he drove back out, plunging in and out and his buff arms wrapped around you.

You cried out small moans, unable to contain yourself. You’d never felt anything like this. The ecstasy unwinding inside your body was completely alien.

You gasped into his shoulder as he rammed into your G-Spot. “Y-Yoong!”

He leaned back, eyes connecting with yours as he drilled into you relentlessly, sweat dripping from his tanned skin. “Yeah b-baby?”

“I-” Yoongi thrusted particularly hard and you let out a large cry of pleasure. “I-I’m going to..”

A grin spread across his perfect lips. “Are you gonna cum baby?”

You nodded, needily grinding back against his cock. He let his hand wander down to your pussy. Strumming his finger against your clit, he looked back up at you.

“Then do it. You don’t need my permission.” He groaned, feeling your pussy tighten particularly hard.

You gripped his back, moaning and sighing, a complete mess. His speed never tampered or wavered however. Yoongi continued at his stoic rate, groaning every time you clenched, hands never slowing either as they pinched and pressured your swollen clit.

“Y-you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned.

You shuddered against him, his cock reaching new depths with every thrust.

“Y-Yoongi!” You moaned, the string snapping as you shuddered against him, bucking slightly as your orgasm overtook you.

As you rode out your orgasm, panting and whining, Yoongi smiled lovingly into your eyes, kissing your neck as he continued thrusting into you. His fingers never left your clit either, providing you the fulfilling constant pleasure.

“Y/n.. I-I’m going to-” He groaned, thrusting faster as your senses finally seemed to calm down. Both of his hands were back to gripping your arms, his beautiful fingers still shining with your own slick.

“Y-you c-can.” You replied.

With that, Yoongi sped up, desperately thrusting into you as if there would never be this experience again. His dark, lustful eyes never left yours as he only closed his eyes to moan. His hips swiveled as he finally moaned out loudly.

“Y-Y/n. Shit. Shit. Y/n.” He thrust into you slowly, retracting after a few seconds of slow bucking.

He ran his hand along your jawline. You panted, tired and sweating. Your hair stuck to your face. There was no way you looked good.

As if he read your mind, he kissed you slowly. “You.” He pulled back. “Are the only beautiful angel I’ve ever seen. I love you.”

Your eyes lit up, another sensation overwhelming you. Love. It was love. And Yoongi felt it too.

You hugged him wordlessly, grinning against his muscular body.

This was perfect.

It had been months since your first well.. encounter with Yoongi. There had been more of course. You were having lunch with your brother, happy to get the chance to have a conversation with him.

“Namjoon. I actually want to tell you something.”

His dimples flashed. “Tell me anything.”

“I.. I had a passion for music at the start. It was really my first love.” You took a deep breath. You hadn’t admitted this to anyone. “But it’s not my love anymore. I’ve fallen out of it. My heart.. it lies elsewhere now.”

It wasn’t just your falling out with the music you sang though. Your past was a broken light. Something that, if you could fix it, you could lead others out of their darkness too.

And that’s all you wanted.

Happiness.

But not just for yourself.

“I want to help people… who went through something similar to what I did. No one should be alone through that. I’ll do the 7 year contract. I’ll be an idol still until it’s over. But after that.. it’s over.”

Namjoon threw his arms around you, bringing you into a close hug, smiling at you with a warmth only a brother could share.

“I’m not really too surprised. I could feel it coming. I just want you to be happy too.” He gestured around him. “I was born for this. The sounds of my fans singing my songs that I pour my heart out to. One day I’ll do more. I’ll have more in my life. But right now, this is my life.”

He beamed at you. “It’s just not your life. You’re meant for more than people cheering. You're meant to save lives in a different way to the comfort we can provide for a brief second through lyrics.”

Namjoon hadn’t had the easiest life. Even the most perfect things are

somehow damaged. He didn’t always have the easiest time. Sometimes he wanted more than he could have.

But his destiny, his true love?

It lay with his band mates and his fans.

The perfect combination of support and comfort. No one could comfort you more than someone who barely knew you.

He already found his destiny.

“It’s been a year since their debut, but they’re already winning so many awards! And here’s another one! Best Single goes to the rookie band, UT-Opia!”

You grabbed your band mates hands, giggling and laughing happily. It was amazing how much everyone loved you.

The large screen flickered behind the hosts, catching your attention. Pictures and videos of the night that still haunted your nightmares and dreams alike flashed on it.

Gasps and yells erupted from the crowd around you, your face being so recognisable that they knew it was you in only seconds.

You wanted to cry. No, even better, you wanted to hide away where no one could find you again. Where no one could jeer at you, or even gasp when they saw you.

But you couldn’t.

Everyone was watching. Most of your country was watching.

This couldn’t be the solution.

Your legs trembled as you got up from your seat, passing your stunned band mates. Hands fumbling as you stepped on stage, the microphone you gently took from a host suddenly impossible to hold.

You felt as though you shouldn’t do this. Like this was a bad idea.

But, fuck it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

You told everyone how the night had happened. How it had haunted you for years. How drugs had torn you apart before your rehab stay. Your days wasted in hospital and therapy.

But it wasn’t a waste in the end.

Your therapist was part of your healing even. You had rebuilt your trust with the singular, wise man who counselled you. The person who helped you find out that even when it seemed every man you met hated you, there were still a few good people left.

The way this inspiring man had influenced you so heavily you had decided to get a degree in psychology yourself. And then you realised the other element of your life.

“RM. My older brother.” You said. “The thing that kept me clinging to my life. I’m probably not the only one, it was Namjoon.”

Your eyes caught on the countless light sticks belonging to BTS fans.

“My family. I would hang on for him. I didn’t want to die.”

You sighed. “Then again. Who does want to die? All we really want to do is stop hurting. Not stop living. But that’s what I wanted countless times. I wanted to end it all so I wouldn’t struggle any longer.”

“But I didn’t want him to blame himself. I wouldn’t be able to end it, because I knew Namjoon wouldn’t survive it.”

You looked out across the countless blank faces in the crowd. “We’ve all suffered. It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself. We’re all broken. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be fixed. To all those women, men and any person who has struggled through what I had to. It’s a big deal, despite what others say. It’s never your fault. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. No one deserves to be mistreated. Not even when you feel like you deserve nothing. You’re precious.

“There’s a way to heal. But it’s up to you to find the strength within you to heal.” You opened your eyes, letting tears wash over your face. “Don’t give up that fight.”

The entire venue was dead silent. Then someone began clapping. Your eyes snapped to where BTS sat. Namjoon was standing, clapping. The rest of BTS stood up as well, clapping.

People all around stood up, clapping to show their support.

Not as many as would be desirable, but you knew how badly some of these idols could face backlash if they supported you.

Giving the microphone back to the host, you walked off stage, head held high.

Backstage your manager apologised desperately. She said she didn’t know how that footage was able to be shown. Or how someone could have gotten their hands on it.

You just shrug, numbed.

“They’ll find the culprits! Don’t worry Y/n.” She comforted you.

Your band mates rushed backstage along with BTS.

The majority of them had no idea of your past. They had no idea how you were feeling. If you were even close to okay.

You turn to Yoongi, grabbing onto his shirt, ready to collapse.

“P-please take me to an AA. I-I don’t want to.. to do something I’ll regret.”

Yoongi quickly nodded, grasping you tightly against his body. He wasn’t out of his depth with AA meetings. He had been to some before himself.

“I’m going to.” Namjoon demanded.

You nodded, not caring at this point.

Only minutes later, Yoongi was driving you there as you lay in Namjoon’s arms. He cradled you, letting you sob against him.

The way you cried like he’d never seen.. Namjoon felt his heart break for his baby sister.

Your heavy eyes opened to blasting light from your phone. You moved Yoongi’s arm from around you, as you had slept in his room with him, not wanting to be alone.

You picked up your phone. The ID simply said Big Hit.

Feeling your stomach drop, you slid out of Yoongi’s warm embrace. What had you done..

Yoongi sleepily blinked, confused. “What’s happening?”

You shakily told him, his eyes widening, lump forming in his throat.

Slipping out of bed, you got ready to go. Ignoring both Namjoon and Yoongi’s offers to drive with you there.

You had to do this by yourself.

Dependence wasn’t something that resided with you.

So you drove there by yourself, mind and heart on the brink of exploding.

Arriving was extremely stressful. Never before had an elevator ride seemed to take so long.

Your entire group was seated along with every important Big Hit executive you’d ever heard of. You could feel the room’s eyes on you, but bravely, you sat down to listen through whatever reason you were there.

“The people at the award show managing the cameras were bribed. We secured the backstage footage and they’re currently in jail, waiting to be charged.”

You took a deep breath. Sounds good so far.

“And the… men from the footage shown on the screen have been identified and tracked down. They’re also waiting in a jail-”

You broke down in tears. Finally. It had been so long. But that wasn’t all. Of course.

“You’ll have to testify.. unfortunately.”

A female executive took over. “Your speech was moving, sweetheart. Online support is already flooding through.” She smiled sadly. “Of course there will be some hate. But already #justiceforY/N is trending Worldwide.”

You were shocked. The reaction from citizens was mainly.. positive?

“1, 2, 3.”

Everyone in the jetting bowed their heads in respect from the woman’s count. You began to cry again, from the happiness sparking inside you. Maybe you had already done something good. Maybe you had started a new wave of public justice. Especially for women. They began speaking again, but it was all about basic procedures. Your mind was set on talking to your band mates.

The opportunity finally came, and you were left alone with the girls.

“I-I’m..” You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not telling you guys.”

Ji-Eun quickly waved you off. “No, no. It’s not something you needed to tell us.”

Baram nodded quickly. “Y/n, it’s horrible to hear what happened to you. You didn’t deserve to go through that..”

Heeyoung shook her head. “No one should have to go through that.”

Aiko still looked at you with her bright eyes. “You’re incredible. You’re so strong. I.. we all admire you.”

Luna nodded in agreement. “I’m so glad you’re our leader.” You burst into tears, and the other girls embraced you, giggling at how awkward the group hug was.

But it was nice.

When the door clicked open, you found Namjoon and Yoongi standing outside. They looked proud.

They probably already knew.

You ran over, throwing your arms around them. The most important men in your life. The loves of your life. The sibling love you’d never shared with anyone else, and the soft and loving relationship with Yoongi.

“It’s almost over.” Namjoon whispered.

Well, he was almost true. First day of the trial, the entirety of BTS insisted on going with you.

Moral support, they called it. You rolled your eyes, but only to cover how much it actually meant to you.

You were finally able to confront your demons. And honestly, seeing them again, you realised how pathetic they were. They weren’t the nightmares. They were just the nightmare fuel.

After another powerful speech, this time rehearsed and prewritten. You never wavered. It was your time to shine. And their time to go down.

“Guilty.”

It sounded amazing coming from the judge. Even better from the jury. Sure, the sentence wasn’t anything like 30 years or life. But 15 years sounded great anyway. At least everyone knew they were guilty.

At least you knew they were guilty too.

It wasn’t long after the court trial that your parents came down from your hometown to visit.

They had seen what had happened on TV. First abruptly from the Award show, and secondly from the broadcast Court Trial. They felt the parental need to see you. Needing to know if you were okay.

And because they missed you.

“I’m so proud of you Y/n! All the women in town love and support you so much. You’re so honest! Just the way I raised you! How can you get more successful? I love you so much my little baby boo-”

“How the hell did they let that happen?” Your father interrupted.

Namjoon scoffed. “Bribery. Stupid fucks are in prison now.”

Your mother hushed him. “No swearing.”

You could swear she winked at him though.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You patted Namjoon’s arm. “Bro, I told them not to-”

“We couldn’t tell you. You would give everything up. And that would’ve broken Y/n further.” Your father sighed.

“And if there’s anything harder than having your children suffer, it’s having them suffer alone.” Your mother said. “We tried our hardest to help her..”

Namjoon launched himself at them, hugging them tightly. “I forgive you guys.” You giggled and wandered over to join the family group hug.

“Mrs Kim?”

Yoongi hesitantly talked to your mother, but he knew he had to. Or he would regret it.

“Thank you so much for looking after Y/n.” He blurted out.

Your mother laughed. “I should be thanking you. I’ve never seen her look at so much love, except for at me of course, before.” He grinned. Bowing slowly to her out of respect. She hit his head.

“Don’t act as if I were old.” She tutted playfully.

“Mum?”

She turned to you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thanks. For being there for me. You were.. you were just always there. For the darkest times, you shone through for me. It wasn’t easy.. and when Dad couldn’t be there..”

Yoongi looked away. His mind raced with the relationship with his own parents. This is how it was supposed to be..

Your mother grabbed him into a hug after you. “You take good care of her. I couldn’t be happier.”

You couldn’t help but beam as your overprotective mother got along well with Yoongi. You could already tell your dad loved him.

It seemed they couldn’t stay long enough.

But when they left, it seemed they were simultaneously replaced with Yoongi’s parents. They weren’t nearly as happy as your parents.

“Why would you be with this.. damaged girl?” His father demanded.

His mother scoffed. “Not only that. She’s dirty. So foul..”

Yoongi was upset. Probably rightfully. You heard what they were saying about you. However, when you looked at them, all you saw was two broken people. And that wasn’t easy to look at.

“Shut up!” Yoongi snapped, glaring daggers at them. “Y/n-”

You took hold of his hand. “I love your son. I know that’s probably not easy to accept. And you probably think there’s someone better for him out there. But there isn’t. Yoongi is my true love. And even if you try to pull us away, heck, even if fate tears us apart… my love for your son will never change.”

His mother sighed. “Whatever.”

As Yoongi begrudgingly said goodbye to his parents, you noticed the way his mother hesitated. Like she wanted to say something. Maybe apologise. Then she shut her door and they drove away.

“What about the future?”

You turned to your boyfriend. “The future?”

He nodded. His beautiful, bright eyes looking out across the scenery from the hilltop. “Like what do you want to do?”

“Like kids?” He nodded. “Well.. maybe. How many would you want?”

“Two maybe?”

You giggled. “What about 9?”

Yoongi slipped his arm around you. “It would be a bit of work.. but hell if we can’t try.” Giggling, you snuggled against him. Smelling his musky natural scent. It calmed you. Like a warming reassurance you could neither see nor hear.

“Marriage?” He whispered, words lost in the cold air. But you still heard them.

You relaxed further into his embrace. “It.. would be nice.”

“Maybe a Grammy?” Yoongi laughed.

You kissed his jawline. “They’ll be insane not to give you one.”

“I’d like to go to Australia.” He commented.

You laughed. “It’s hot there Yoongi. I hope you’ll prepare yourself for the heat.”

“It’s already too hot when I’m near you.”

With that you snorted, leaning back into him as he wrapped his arms around your torso in a full in back hug. “That’s too cheesy, even for you.”

He smiled, his gummy smile. “Aren’t you glad you’re here?”

Unable to resist, you kissed his lips quickly. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“That’s good, because I never want to leave you alone.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice. It made you bubble with excitement. There was so much you could still do with him.

Yoongi set his head on your shoulder, lips grazing your ear. “It’s the best place in Seoul.” He murmured, right into your ear.

Feeling the warmth of his body on yours, you sighed happily. “It’s perfect. You can see the sun set over all of Seoul.”

“You’re perfect.” He whispered.

Smiling wider now, you placed a hand in his hair, ruffling it. “We’re perfect together.”

#Bts #UT-Opia #BTS fanfic #yoongi #yoongi Smut #bts smut #namjoon fanfic #kpop #reader x yoongi #y/n x yoongi

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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago

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Oh! Oh! Oh! 1, 10, 13, 32 and 34 for the fic asks thingy? Sorry it's a lot, I'm just curious...

Oooh no, we’re so excited to answer these!! <3 Thank you so much for asking!

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!) Kim: I used to be very conscious about my writing, but while I know it’s not perfect, or as good as I’d love it to be; I’d definitely give my writing 4/5 stars now! Lien: Honestly??? Same. I definitely have periods where I do worse than I think I can, but honestly, the best way to judge your own writing is to leave it for a while and when you reread it and think “DAYUM WHO WROTE THIS” then I think you can say you’re a solid writer. So yeah 4/5 for me too.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for? Kim: I gotta admit that I’m never sure if with genre they mean ‘tropes’ or ‘source material genre’ whoops! As for tropes, I love basically everything. Smut is definitely my number one in a more general sense, but yeah! I’ve also really loved any type of problematic type of character and/or ship. It’s just so much more fun to explore their reasoning/the things they’d do etc! In a ‘source material’ sense, definitely anything fantasy, sci-fi, young adult ^^ As long as there’s some form of drama I’m good. Lien: Mmm genres are difficult since, especially with fanfic, you kinda go by everything? I’ve written a few screenplays when I was still in film; a mystery detective- which is hard lol- and a drama piece about a trans girl wanting to become a prima ballerina. But yeah, personally I do actually prefer non-realistic fiction. Fantasy, etc.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for? Kim: Officially speaking: Justin Bieber (and a Dutch singer called Ralf Mackenbach). I must’ve been around 13 by that time? But I wrote fanfiction about a school play my teachers did when I was 9. Didn’t know it was fanfiction, I was just too intrigued by the story to simply let it be! Lien: Either… Twilight or Lord of the Rings, I’m unsure rn. Either way, that was when I was like, twelve. Nice and cringe <3

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. Kim: Let’s do one that just makes it sound like a very very bad porn summary (which okay let’s be honest, it’s exactly that): “Rich man asks young boy to measure his cock” Lien: Oo yay! In film making it’s called a logline. If you cant explain a plot within one line it’s usually not… Great. Lol. Aight, here I go, with the counterpart of Kim’s fic: “Billionaire frequents club to buy time with a college student.”

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. Kim: (Side note: THEY’RE DANCING, IT’S NOT SMUT (yet) XD) A rush of endorphins explodes in his mind, and with a surprised laugh, Peter drops his head backwards. He surrenders to the moment. Following the music. Following Tony’s hands that somehow have found their way around Peter’s waist- squeezing his lower back lightly. Peter’s eyes open themselves. Tony stares at him with such pride that Peter accidentally squeezes the boy’s hands a little too tight. “Look at you! You’re rockin’, Peter!” Peter’s heart skips a beat, and he moans quietly as desire builds deep inside of him. It almost hurts. How close he is. How he will forever cherish this memory. Tony’s movements become more elaborate too. His hands wander lower, bordering inappropriate really. Peter can’t help but lean into the touch. Tony’s chest is now mere inches away from him. His hips rolling to the beat ever so sensually while his rough, low voice sings along to the lyrics freely.

Lien: He carefully places the crystal glass at the little tabletop behind it and kneels next to the chaise longue, sending Peter a goofy smile. “You’re so beautiful, my liege,” he takes hold of Peter’s hand, kissing the top of his knuckles gently. He scrapes his throat before he speaks again. “Your skin is sweeter than any wine I've let my tongue taste." Another kiss. "Your eyes are deeper than the darkest caves. Your voice, like a siren's song, urging me to touch your frail body with these rough hands." “Tony, sweetness…” Peter’s fingers trail over Tony’s chest, lingering just above the arc reactor. Tony takes a deep breath before he continues. "Such a benevolent God granting me this breathtaking sight to behold. Granting me permission to love you." “Always,” Peter whispers out of breath, his eyes shimmering. “I’ll always let you love me, Tony.” "You are the sun in my life, waking me up every morning with your warm glow." Tony continues kissing up Peter’s arm. Gently licking the skin, tasting the sweet mango from the bath they just took. "You are the air I breathe, the ground my feet stand upon." The man reaches Peter’s collar bone, leaving a feathery kiss on top of it. "Your touch makes my skin burn with desire." He smothers Peter’s neck. "Your sweet words tickle my ears." Peter’s fighting the tears in his eyes. Tony is so sweet. Too sweet. This doesn’t sound forced or rehearsed. It’s not fake, for the sake of whatever they’re doing right now. What Tony says is real and true and Peter can feel it squeeze his heart. Peter’s hands move to hold Tony’s head, lifting him and forcing the man to look him in the eye. "I love you, Peter, I love you, I love you. Let it be known."

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13lov · 6 years ago

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Can I request a time stamp? 3:33am smut with yoongi please?

[3:33 am]

the sketch of yoongi’s side profile resting on your lap suggests he’s been sitting perfectly still for hours, which is true. when he first invited you to the studio hours earlier, it was to keep him company as he finished up his newest agust d mixtape, only one song left for him to finish mixing.

but honestly, he was so wrapped up in completing a song titled ‘skin’, you might as well have not been there at all.

a frustrated groan leaves your boyfriend’s lips as he loops the song once. he’s so close to being done but, there’s something missing from it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it was driving him crazy.

you sigh, tossing the drawing of yoongi to the other side of the couch to grab your phone. you glance at him once more before reading the time on your phone, wiping your eyes in disbelief when you see it’s half past three in the morning.

“yoongi,” you say, and he turns his head to face you with a raised brow, “it’s almost four in the morning.”

“shit, it is?” he asks in disbelief, checking the rolex on his wrist to confirm the time. he had barely realized how long it was taking him to complete on fucking song, literally the last song that needs to be done. if it wasn’t finished within the next few days, bighit had threatened to delay the mixtape, or take the song off completely.

of course he couldn’t delay the mixtape, he already promised his fans it’d be out soon. and, he couldn’t part with ‘skin’ when it was so close to being perfect. he asked you to be here with him as a possible inspiration to finish the song, but still, even your presence had him drawing a blank. he felt bad keeping you here for his own selfish reasons when he was barely speaking to you, yoongi knew you were only awake at such an ungodly hour for him.

god, he loved you.

“i’ll have one of the guards take you back to the apartment if you’re tired, you guys will have sneak out through the back, though” he offers, turning back to the illuminated screen in front of him. the building was mostly empty except for the few security gaurds at the entrance who couldn’t leave until yoongi did (fans and possibly a few sasaengs were standing outside the building in hopes of seeing their favorite rapper).

“no, i don’t mind waiting,” you say, standing from the couch to walk over to yoongi, resting your arms against the top of his desk chair as he loops the song once more.

“you hide your skin like you’re shy, or there’s something wrong / you stylish when you got nothing on”

it was about sex, nonetheless. sex with you, to be more specific. he let you know that the moment he put pen to paper and let lyrics flow out. yoongi even had you doing backup vocals during the chorus of the song, though you pleaded and told him you weren’t one to sing, he insisted on it later that night when he heard you singing in the shower.

you cringe as the chorus of the song approaches through the speaker, still feeling awkward listening to your own voice. much to your surprise, you’re pleased with the way it sounds. yoongi had edited it obviously, but it was still recognizable as you; and it sounded good.

yoongi smiles when you hum in content, craning his neck upwards to look at you. “you like it?”

you nod, “love it; love the whole thing, actually. why don’t you?”

yoongi sighs, scooting his chair back slightly. he pats his lap as an invitation to sit, you happily comply. “i like it a lot, it’s just…missing something.”

hours without even having yoongi glance at you had you missing him. in fact, he had been so wrapped up with the agust d mixtape, you can’t even remember the last time he properly fucked you. he had usually done so whenever he finished when he finished a song, his own way of celebrating.

with skin being the last song that had yet to be completed, yoongi had barely thought about sex; and you were starting to get needy.

you sat on yoongi’s lap in silence, only listening as he mumbled out complaints. you tried your best to ignore the feeling of his fingertips tracing invisible circle on your exposed thigh, distracting yourself from it was easy right up until his hand trailed up to the hem of your skirt without realization.

“…and i don’t know what it needs at this point,” yoongi sighs in frustration, index finger resting on his chin, “maybe i should just call it a day and show it to bighit as is.”

“maybe you just need a distraction,” you say, running your hand through his hair.

“a distraction is the last thing i need right now, baby,” he scoffs, closing his eyes. you sigh, he clearly wasn’t picking up any of this hints you were dropping. typical boy.

you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “well maybe you just need a break…” your left hand travels down his chest, momentarily covering up the ‘FG’ logo on his white t-shirt. you continue the path and stop once your hand reaches the crotch of yoongi’s jeans. he opens one eye suddenly, raising a brow as he finally gets what you’re hinting at.

“yes,” he groans, lifting you up in a swift motion before setting you down on his desk. then he kisses you, it’s sloppy and horny, but you can tell he’s been craving it as much as you have; probably more. his hands have a tight grip on your waist, clutching you so tight to him as if you’d slip from his grasp if he let go.

when you bring your hands to rest around his neck, yoongi takes the opportunity to push your skirt up, bunching it up around your hips. his index finger teasingly traces your clothed clit, causing you to moan into the kiss due to the much needed friction. “god, i missed this,” he pants, “did you?”

“of course,” you reply, and bite down on your lip when he pulls your panties off.

“i can tell, just look at how wet you are,” yoongi’s thumb finds your clit, massaging it with small circles that still has you gasping for air. maybe you were just desperate for his touch, but you could get off from this alone if you wanted to.

so wrapped up with how good yoongi is making you feel, you’re caught off guard and let out a loud gasp when he inserts his index finger in you, curving it in a come-hither motion. “you like that?” he asks, and when you’re unable to respond due to the feeling, yoongi presses his thumb to your clit again and massages it. the stimulation could literally send you over the edge right now.

“i asked you a question,” yoongi says sternly, looking straight at your closed eyes and flushed expression.

“yes, god, i love it,” you can barely say, yoongi smiles in content, thrusting his finger in and out of your pussy in a slow pace. “yeah? think you’re ready for my cock?” he asks, you open your eyes at his words and nod enthusiastically, practically begging him to fuck you.

he slides his fingers from you to unbuckle his belt, shoving them down far enough to pull down his boxers and let his dick spring free. you don’t even get a chance to look at it before his cock is aligned with your entrance before yoongi fully pushes himself into you with a sharp thrust. you tip your head back in pleasure, your hand gripping at yoongi’s desk as a girlish moan falls from your lips.

“fuck, i love your – wait, oh my god,” yoongi interrupts his own sentence as he realizes something. he reaches behind you out to his desk to press the record button. “this song,” he starts, “was missing your moans. that’s it! it’s literally about me having sex with you, all i need are your sounds to top it off.” he explains.

you look at him confused, and a little bit shy if he was actually serious about putting the sounds you make when he’s fucking you on a song. “i…okay…but, we’re not in the booth; how will the mic hear me?”

“guess you just gotta be loud, can you do that for me?” he asks, pushing his hips forward and shoving his dick deeper into you. you let out another loud moan, the mic definitely is able to pick that up.

“that’s it,” yoongi compliments, “just like that.”

#bts #bts smut #bts scenario #bts imagine #yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop scenario #yoongi imagine #sorry if its bad #timestamp

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vexedtonightmares · 5 years ago

Text

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter quinze

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii. xiii. xiv. xv.

ao3

**tw: brief mentions of eating disorder, ocd, ptsd, anxiety, references to past sexual abuse, brief allusion to past suicidal ideation**

Samedi 11:24

“You’re cute.”

Lucas scrunched his nose up, shaking his head from where he was laying in bed, facing Eliott. When Eliott lifted his head to readjust the way he was lying down Lucas saw pillow creases on the side of his cheek, and it was adorable.

“You are. You’re so cute,” Eliott repeated, tapping Lucas on the nose. In all honesty, Lucas knew he was cute, objectively, but he’d keep refusing if it meant Eliott kept telling him so.

He grabbed one of Eliott’s hands and stretched their joined palms up to the ceiling before flopping them back down between the two of them, tracing small circles on the palm of Eliott’s hand. “I’m not,” he lied.

“You are.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you should.”

“Hmmm…”

“Hmmm…” Eliott mimicked, screwing his face up in a way Lucas figured was supposed to match what Lucas had done prior.

Lucas laughed, ducking his head down. “Stop. Now you’re cute.”

“I wasn’t before?” Eliott gasped in faux offense. Lucas merely raised one eyebrow, looking away pointedly. Eliott gasped again, this time in indignation. “Rude!”

Before Lucas could do or say anything else, Eliott unwrapped his hand from Lucas’ and used it to pull him closer. It was nice until Eliott started to tickle him. Lucas cursed his past self for admitting how ticklish he was, because now Eliott could use that to his advantage.

“Eli! Eli! Stop ah—” Lucas laughed, breaths coming in short gasps as he tried and failed to squirm away. The light in Eliott’s eyes was almost blinding it burned so bright. Lucas knew it was a foolish wish, but he wished it could stay like that forever. Anytime Eliott had a smile on his face, Lucas felt like all was right in the world.

Eliott stopped tickling him abruptly and it was only then that Lucas realized they’d rolled so Eliott was hovering over him, pillow creases still apparent on his face and the sun streaming through the window framing him in a golden halo. Lucas’ heart stopped briefly when he realized that this was possibly the most beautiful Eliott had ever looked.

He lifted a hand and placed it on Eliott’s chest, fingers tracing idly over the ink tattooed there. “I’ve never asked, when did you get this?”

Eliott looked down at his own chest, as if he’d forgotten there was anything there. He paused before speaking. “Over the summer,” he said at last.

“Why?” Lucas asked, curious. He’d never really taken Eliott for a tattoo person, but he had to admit it did turn him on a little bit.

Eliott dropped his eyes, biting his lip nervously. “Um, I’d just gotten out of a really bad depression. An episode, I guess, is what it was. It was one I didn’t think I’d get out of…” he trailed off, and Lucas understood what he was saying without saying. The pain that exploded from his heart was unmatched, but he said nothing, waiting for Eliott to continue.

“But I did get out of it, mainly thanks to Idriss and Sofiane, and I got this as a reminder that life was worth it, I guess,” he finished, shrugging to the best of his ability, given his position propped up over Lucas.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Lucas said earnestly, “I think you’re beautiful.”

He was, he was so beautiful. And instead of denying it, Eliott simply closed the space between them, pressing a gentle but deeply intentioned kiss to Lucas’ lips. It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed in a long time or anything, but the kiss sent every ounce of dopamine in Lucas’ brain rushing into his body.

“I’m so in love with you, you have no idea,” Lucas said breathlessly as they broke apart, running his fingers through Eliott’s hair. He felt such a love for Eliott that he couldn’t even put it into words. “You’ve ruined me, you know. You’ve made all my expectations for love way too high. You can never leave me, I don’t know how I’d manage.”

He said it like he was joking, but it was the truth. He’d found so much in Eliott that he didn’t even know existed, so much of himself and so much of the world. It was unthinkable that he’d ever lose it, but there was always that fear.

“I could never,” Eliott said seriously, brushing their noses together, “The person I am when I’m not with you is someone I never want to be again. I told you once but I’ll continue to tell you a million times: you’re it for me Lucas Lallemant. In this universe and in all the others you’ve dreamed up in your mind. They haven’t created a word big enough to express how much I love you.”

Lucas stroked down Eliott’s cheekbone, willing himself to not go all in so fast. Somehow the words Eliott had spoken were real, and Lucas could tell how much he meant them. It seemed crazy that he could be so happy when just a few days ago his world had tipped entirely on its axis, but somehow, he could be. And he wasn’t going to waste a moment of that happiness.

It was unclear which one of them dove back in for a kiss, or maybe they met halfway, but the only important thing was that they were kissing again. They were kissing, they were kissing, and Lucas was floating, was floating, and the light making its way through the window was working its way into Lucas’ heart and soul, heart and soul.

Lucas gripped Eliott tighter by the back of his neck, and Eliott pressed down further, connecting their bodies deeper and closer. Each kiss was like a song, one Lucas didn’t know the lyrics to yet, but he knew it would be one of his favorites once he did.

“Hey, Luc— WHAT THE FUCK—”

Eliott and Lucas broke apart in the blink of an eye, Lucas shoving Eliott off of him and almost off the bed so fast neither of them were really able to register it. Lucas blinked at the door, doing his best to look innocent, and probably doing a terrible job.

Yann stood in the doorway, mouth agape, eyebrows creased like he was trying to solve some sort of math equation that just didn’t add up. Lucas had sworn they’d locked the door to their suite… but no, he remembered, Eliott had gone out early in the morning to get them croissants from the bakery down the street to celebrate not getting kicked out. He probably hadn’t thought to lock the door when he got back, and Lucas had no reason to lock the door to his bedroom, or even close it for that matter.

“I can explain,” Lucas said, filling the tense, silent space in the air.

“You’d better,” Yann agreed incredulously, finally looking Lucas in the eye.

Eliott looked a bit like he was trying to shrink himself in size or hide under the covers, maybe both, and it was so cute it took all of Lucas’ restraint to not reach over and kiss him.

“Sooo…” he began, “I’m dating Eliott.”

Yann looked at him like yeah, no shit, which, fair. “How long has this been a thing?”

“Um… since that one party,” Lucas responded vaguely, not exactly wanting to reveal how long it had actually been. Unluckily for him, Yann knew exactly when he was talking about, given that it was the last party all of them had been at together.

“The one Alexia invited us to.” It wasn’t a question, but Lucas nodded anyway. Yann closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “What the fuck,” he repeated, which was appropriate.

“We just wanted to keep it a secret until the show was over, we didn’t want to cause any drama,” Lucas explained. He didn’t want Yann to feel bad or feel like Lucas thought he couldn’t trust him. He hadn’t even told Manon. Yes, Imane knew, but that was mostly because she happened to be there when he was having a mental breakdown.

Yann opened his eyes, dropping his hand. “Yet you did anyway,” he said with a frown.

That was also, unfortunately, true. When he really thought about it, it was a wonder no one else had put the pieces together, given what he and Eliott had both gone through over the past couple of weeks. Lucas shrugged, looking down to realize that from Yann’s perspective it probably looked like he was naked. He cringed slightly to himself, then looked over at Eliott.

“Can you, um, give us a minute?” Lucas asked softly, urgency in his eyes. Eliott thankfully understood right away and he nodded, plucking one of Lucas’ hoodies from the floor and throwing it on, even though it was a bit small. Thank god he was already wearing sweatpants.

The terse silence stayed latent in the air as Eliott, head down, skirted his way around Yann and closed the door behind him. Lucas almost laughed to himself as he heard Eliott’s footsteps break into a soft jog when he left the room.

“Can you—” Lucas began to ask, and Yann caught his drift, grabbing another discarded hoodie and tossing it to where Lucas was still partially hidden under the covers. He just had his boxers on, and he definitely did not need Yann to know that.

Yann sat on the edge of the bed, weariness in his eyes. “He’s not… making you do anything, right?”

“Oh, god, Yann, no! Of course not!” Lucas exclaimed immediately, not even knowing why Yann’s mind went there in the first place.

Yann raised his hands in surrender, widening his eyes. “I just had to make sure dude, I don’t know! You’re the one who’s been talking about how Eliott is the spawn of satan for like five years!”

“I don’t think I ever called him the spawn of satan,” Lucas argued back, which was probably the most unnecessary addition to the conversation.

“You know what I mean.” Lucas did know what he meant. It just made him feel so guilty to think about these days, even when Eliott had reassured him time and time again that there was no hard feelings. They’d both gone through a lot over the years they’d been apart emotionally, and they couldn’t blame each other for the things that had been said and done when it mostly just led to blaming themselves.

“We’ve… worked through it,” Lucas explained, figuring that was the best way to put it.

“All of it?” Yann asked, and Lucas nodded. He knew why Yann was so concerned, and he really did appreciate it. Not many people cared for him like that.

He couldn’t really look at Yann at the moment, so he laid back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. “He makes me feel so whole, Yann. I didn’t know I could ever feel like this.”

Yann settled down beside him in the spot Eliott just vacated, joining him in gazing at the ceiling. “I believe that’s what our ancestors called ‘love’.”

Lucas nudged him gently, laughing to himself. “I’m aware of that, idiot. I’m so fucking in love.”

“Don’t punch me, but I honestly never thought I’d hear you say that,” Yann said, and Lucas finally turned to look at him.

“Really?”

Yann nodded. “I guess I just didn’t know if you’d ever love yourself enough to let someone else love you, or to realize you deserve that love. I hoped, sure, but I knew that could only do so much. Then, with what you told us about your eating disorder… I’m so sorry, Lucas. I’ve seen you in pain for so long that I let myself get desensitized to it. I shouldn’t have, and I’m going to have to carry that for the rest of my life, but I still did it, and I’m so glad you found someone who saw every part of you and loved and cared for you in the way you deserve.”

An errant tear slipped down Lucas’ cheek as he turned to face Yann fully. Yann was still looking at the ceiling, but Lucas spoke anyway. “Don’t blame yourself for anything Yann. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was struggling, or to call me out on any of my bullshit. Eliott didn’t listen to my silent pleas for normalcy because he’s as stubborn as I am, but you can’t let yourself regret what happened in the past or blame yourself for it, trust me. It doesn’t do anyone any good, least of all yourself.”

“I’m still sorry,” Yann said, finally turning his head, “Please just let me be sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Lucas said, because it was what Yann needed to hear. Lucas didn’t think Yann needed to be forgiven for anything, but he offered up his forgiveness as a stepping stone to not send either of them too far into a regretful spiral.

“He loves you too?” Yann asked seriously.

Lucas smiled, thinking about the way Eliott looked at him like he was more beautiful than any star in the sky. “He does.”

“Jesus, you sappy little shit,” Yann groaned shaking his head. “‘He does’, with that fucking smile? Who are you and what have you done with Lucas Lallemant?”

He knew Yann was joking, but he thought about it. He was different, but it was a good different, a kind of different that made him want to soar, not sink. “I’m Lucas Lallemant 2.0, I think. The new and improved version. I like me better now, although I guess I didn’t really like myself at all before.”

“Well Lucas Lallemant 2.0, I’m your best friend Yann Cazas. Don’t go forgetting that again, ok? I’m with you no matter what. I’m the person you call when you need to hide a body, and you’re the same to me,” Yann said, raising his eyebrows.

“As if I could ever forget you,” Lucas said, half joking half serious. “And thanks, really.”

“Another no homo bro hug?” Yann offered, and Lucas didn’t even have time to respond verbally before Yann sat up and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him. Lucas returned the gesture, resting his head on Yann’s shoulder.

When they pulled away Yann twitched his lips, looking to the side. “Speaking of no homo bro hugs—”

“Yann are you coming out to me?” Lucas interrupted, pretending to be scandalized.

Yann rolled his eyes, shoving Lucas’ shoulder. “Shut up. What I was going to say was, you need to talk to Arthur.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Lucas asked immediately, heart speeding up. Arthur had been acting a bit oddly… Lucas really hoped nothing was wrong.

“Calm down, nothing’s wrong,” Yann continued, reading his mind, “I just think you guys should have an actual heart to heart.”

“You’re scaring me a bit Yann…”

“I swear!” Yann raised his arms again. “He just filled me in on the things going on in his life, and I figured you’d want to know too, but not from me.”

“Ok…” Lucas was still wary, he could sense Yann wasn’t telling him something, but he’d just have to accept it for now. He really should have a talk with Arthur anyway, even just to fill him in on everything going on in his life as well. “Ok,” he repeated, “I’ll talk to him this week.”

Yann nodded, then scooted off the bed. “Tell your lover he can stop hiding in his room now, but if he ever hurts you I will break his spine.”

“Noted,” Lucas said, smiling. Then, “By the way, how’s it going with Chloé?”

Yann laughed as if he couldn’t help himself. “Ha. That. Yeah, um, it’s not really ‘going’ so to speak anymore.”

Lucas lifted the water from his bedside table in mock salute. “I expected nothing less.”

“Shut up, Lallemant, you’re still on thin ice for not telling me you’ve been a part of some enemies to lovers fanfiction for weeks now.” Yann pointed at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Enemies to lovers fan— Are you serious right now?” Lucas laughed, doubling over.

Yann simply turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder. “You don’t know what I do in my free time. Although, come to think of it, which one of you would be Harry and which one would be Draco?”

“Yann!”

“Ok, ok, leaving for real now. Let me know when you decide, though, this is important data,” Yann yelled, making his way through their living room and out the door. Lucas flopped back down shaking his head fondly. Harry and Draco… Yann was something else, he really was.

Lucas was so out of it he didn’t even register when Eliott walked back into the room until he said, “Well, obviously, I’m Harry.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Lucas scoffed as Eliott settled back down beside him. “How am I Draco?”

Eliott shrugged. “You were the mean one.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. Fine, if that was how they were going to play it. “You were the one who pined from afar for years.”

“They both did that,” Eliott argued.

“Well you— and Draco— were the ones aware that they were pining.”

And so they went on like this, debating back and forth, hands twisting together idly, legs brushing not so accidentally, hearts filled to the brim with adoration, as was normal these days. It was a peaceful morning that led into a peaceful afternoon that led into a peaceful night and it was wonderful. Every minute of it.

Dimanche 19:07

Lucas was fully drained, mentally and emotionally. He’d spent the last seven hours with a clinical psychologist, working through what was going on and getting properly diagnosed, and now he was even more exhausted than after a full day of rehearsals. It had taken a while for him to feel comfortable, but once he began to open up, the words wouldn’t stop flowing and flowing until he’d practically told his entire life story. It was a lot, and all he wanted right now were cuddles from Eliott.

The moment he opened the door, he was greeted by Eliott’s grinning face standing behind the counter chopping something up. “Hey, Lu. I’m making dinner.”

Lucas appreciated that he didn’t ask how the session had gone. Lucas would tell him, but he needed a moment to process things on his own first. He made his way over to the counter, sitting at one of the stools and peeking at what Eliott was doing. “What are you making?”

Eliott’s face flushed bright red. “It’s a surprise?”

“A surprise?”

Eliott beckoned Lucas closer with his hand, waiting to speak until they were inches apart. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” Eliott whispered.

“Do you want help?” Lucas whispered back, stifling a giggle.

“No,” Eliott scoffed in mock indignation, pulling away. “Who knows, maybe this will be the best meal we’ve ever eaten. Maybe I’ll become a world famous chef, the new Remy.”

“Remy?” Lucas clarified.

“Yeah, the rat from Ratatouille.”

Lucas laughed. “Oh, I just thought his name was Ratatouille.”

This apparently, was the wrong thing to say, because Eliott dropped everything he was doing and stared at Lucas, mouth agape. Once he regained his composure, he sighed. “We have to break up.”

Lucas choked on a laugh, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t respect the cinematic excellence that is Ratatouille enough to even remember the main character’s name. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.” He shooed Lucas with his hands, turning away dramatically. “Begone, thot!”

And, well, Lucas had never expected to hear those words from Eliott, so he did what any sensible person would do. He laughed so hard he quite literally fell from his chair.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, catching himself before he could really embarrass himself. Eliott ran to the opposite side of the counter, alarm in his eyes.

“Oh my god are you ok? I’m so so sorry, Lu, I’m so— are you laughing?” Eliott rambled upon seeing Lucas shaking on the ground. Lucas lifted his head and revealed not tears of pain, but tears of laughter. Eliott sank down onto the floor beside him, dropping his face into his hands, but his smile was unmistakable.

“Begone— thot—” Lucas gasped between laughs, wiping his eyes.

Eliott finally surrendered to his own laughter, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where that came from.”

It took a few more minutes for Lucas to finally catch his breath, but once he did, he clasped one of Eliott’s hands between both of his. “Thank you,” he said, radiating with warmth.

“I called you a thot,” Eliott reiterated.

Lucas nudged him with his shoulder. “That’s not what I’m talking about, dummy. Thank you for being you, for making me laugh after the day I just had.”

“Are we talking about it?” Eliott asked, and Lucas wondered the same thing himself. He kind of just wanted to get it all off his chest, even if a small part of him was screaming to hold it all in until he exploded.

Lucas settled on a nod, leaning back against the counter and pulling his knees up to his chest. Eliott did the same, the two of them sitting side by side and not looking at each other. It was easier saying these things when he didn’t have to look for every single reaction in Eliott’s expressive eyes.

“So, I guess I officially have an eating disorder,” Lucas began. He felt his heart start to beat a tad more rapidly and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Eliott didn’t say anything, just listened, still holding his hand.

“Anorexia nervosa, technically,” he continued, biting his lip. “I, um, also apparently have generalized anxiety disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, and deeply rooted emotional and physical trauma which manifests itself as PTSD. And abandonment issues. I’m quite the catch, I know.”

Eliott squeezed his hand. “Hey. None of that makes you less of a person, ok? Now that you know what to call it, you’ll have a better time learning how to push through it in a healthy way, right?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said in a small voice, focusing on a loose thread on his pants.

“Do you have to take any medications?” Eliott asked conversationally, as if they were talking about the weather.

Lucas nodded again. “They think that would be best, particularly for the OCD, mostly because I can’t go to therapy as often as they’d like given rehearsal schedules.”

“Hey that’s great!” Eliott exclaimed, and Lucas finally looked at him, confusion creasing his brows. “I have to take medication too, for, you know… now we can take them together or something. Help each other out. Obviously it won’t be easy for either of us, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

“That would be nice,” Lucas said, resting his head on Eliott’s shoulder. It most definitely would not be all rainbows and butterflies, and may be a source of argument from time to time, but Lucas thought it was what both of them needed at the moment to help them adjust to the changes in their lives.

“Minute by minute, baby,” Eliott said, leaning his head on top of Lucas’.

“Please don’t call me baby,” Lucas said, scrunching up his face even though he knew Eliott couldn’t see it. Had he told Eliott about his dislike of pet names yet or was this going to have to be a new conversation?

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“Eliott I swear—”

But he didn’t finish, and Eliott didn’t have time to answer, because a loud beeping noise interrupted both of their trains of thought. Their heads shot up, then their bodies when they realized the beeping was the smoke detector.

“You were making food,” Lucas remembered and Eliott nodded solemnly.

“I was making food.”

“Shit.”

They both went to work, waving away the smoke and turning off the stove, putting whatever Eliott’s concoction had been into the sink. Eliott was jumping up and down waving a dish towel to dissipate the smoke, and the sight was enough for Lucas’ panic to leave him and for laughter to take over once again. Eliott glared at him like Is now really the time?, but the corner of his mouth twitched nonetheless.

Lucas heard voices outside their door and looked through the peephole to see people walking past, muttering in confusion. “Shit,” he repeated, “I think we’re supposed to evacuate.”

“Even if we’re the source of the problem?” Eliott asked, still waving his dish towel.

“Especially if we’re the source of the problem, I think,” Lucas replied, reaching for the hoodie he’d strewn across the couch earlier. Actually, it was Eliott’s hoodie, but Lucas claimed it, so now it was his (at least until it stopped smelling like Eliott).

Eliott reluctantly put down the towel and followed Lucas out of the room, leaving the door ajar so the smoke had more room to escape. They found themselves caught in the throng of ballet students and grabbed each other’s hands instinctively, not remembering that what they had was supposed to be a secret. It didn’t matter anyway, no one was paying attention to them.

At least, they weren’t until Lucas and Eliott caught each other’s eyes over some of the younger student’s heads. Their lips wobbled, and Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, but it was useless. They broke back down into laughter, because of course they’d almost started a fire while they were having a deep and important conversation. And of course they’d had a deep and important conversation right after Eliott had called him a thot.

Once outside, Eliott and Lucas were still nearly pissing themselves laughing, not paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone or anything around them. They couldn’t stop, and everyone was looking at them like they were insane, though that could have partly been because it was Eliott and Lucas laughing together. No one had seen that since they were ten years old.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Emma asked, catching their attention. Right, other people existed.

“We may have set off the fire alarm,” Eliott explained biting his lip to try to stop his laughter. Lucas wasn’t quite there yet.

“We?” Daphné cut in, looking between the two of them utterly confused. Lucas caught Imane’s eye as he regained his composure, the knowing look, and he tried not to draw attention to it.

Sofiane caught the look though, probably because he was always looking at Imane, and his jaw dropped. “Wait a minute.”

Eliott looked at Sofiane in confusion, not having caught the exchange that had just gone down. Sofiane closed his mouth, then opened it, then closed it again. “Am I dreaming?” he asked finally.

“No,” Imane said, and Lucas glared at her.

He nearly groaned aloud when Manon came over to join all of them, along with Arthur, Ingrid, and Chloé. “What’s going on?” she asked warily, looking at Daphné for some sort of explanation. Daphné merely shrugged, eyes wide as she tried to figure out what was going on.

Ingrid looked at Manon and Daphné, then up at Lucas and Eliott. “They’re fucking,” she said simply, and practically every single person within earshot went wild.

“Funny joke—”

“Woah…”

“I knew it.”

“Lucas and Eliott? Never.”

“Finally.”

Lucas looked from person to person, mouth agape. Eliott looked a bit uncomfortable, kind of like he wanted to disappear, and Lucas went into defense mode. He glared at Ingrid, folding his arms across one another. “Really?”

She shrugged. “What? I share a wall with one of you, and you’re loud as fuck.”

Lucas didn’t think they were that loud, and besides, they’d only ‘fucked’ the way she was insinuating for the first time after their dance in the theatre. Sure, they’d probably done a few other… loud… activities, but it wasn’t like it was every night.

“That doesn’t mean it was Lucas and Eliott, though,” Daphné said, “It could have been one of them with someone else.”

“Well that would be super awkward, considering the two people in question were moaning the names ‘Eliott’ and ‘Lucas’,” Ingrid said matter of factly, and Lucas decided right then that he was going to kill her.

“But they hate each other,” Daphné said, looking to Manon for assistance. She wasn’t paying attention though, too focused on Lucas, on trying to read his face. He saw the moment she read all she needed to and was forced to accept the reality that Ingrid was telling the truth. Her jaw didn’t drop quite as Sofiane’s had, but it was enough that Daphné and Emma both gasped.

Yann winked at Lucas across the group of people, which was entirely unhelpful, but he supposed he had gotten himself into this situation in the first place. “We’re not fucking,” Lucas said adamantly.

Eliott met his eyes, raising his eyebrows in an equally unhelpful fashion, and Lucas sighed. “We’re not just fucking,” he amended, covering his face with his hands to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. He felt an arm slip around his shoulders and knew it was Eliott’s without having to look.

“We’re dating,” Eliott said simply, and if everyone’s reactions had been wild before, they were nothing compared to what they were now.

Manon’s face told him that she was going to chew him out for not telling her later, but also that she was happy for him if he was happy, and he appreciated it. He did feel bad for not telling her for so long.

Just as their friends began to ask questions, the director emerged, yelling to all the students. “This was a false fire alarm, you can all go back inside and about your business, we’ll have someone come in tomorrow morning to look into any faulty wires that could have tripped the alarm accidentally. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

His face said otherwise, but then again, he always looked like he’d just stepped in shit. At least no one had found out that Lucas and Eliott were the source of this trouble, especially given all the other trouble they’d caused recently.

Before their friends could even think to ask more questions or even focus their attention back on Eliott and Lucas, Eliott grabbed Lucas’ hand and took off with him back into the building, laughing all the while.

The charred remains of their dinner still sat in the sink, so they grabbed leftovers from the fridge before locking their door— and triple checking that it was actually locked— and resuming their positions leaned up against the counter on the floor.

They could explain everything in the morning.

Lundi 12:12

Surprisingly, most people had come to terms with Eliott and Lucas being a thing by the time classes started that morning. Maybe more of them had seen it coming than they were willing to admit, or maybe they were just waiting to ambush them until after class. Whatever the case, it gave Lucas opportunity to pull Arthur aside at the beginning of class to ask if he wanted to have lunch, just the two of them. He’d agreed, and now Lucas sat waiting at the cafe down the street, frowning at the time. Arthur wasn’t going to bail on him, was he?

But no, almost fifteen minutes past noon, Arthur strolled in, casual smile on his face. Lucas could tell it was forced, but he didn’t comment on it. He knew Arthur had been going through a lot lately.

“Hey Lulu,” Arthur said as he sat down, and Lucas found himself grinning at the nickname. Arthur was really the only person he ever let get away with calling him that. “What did you, um, want to talk about?” Arthur added, almost nervously.

Lucas didn’t really have an answer, because technically Yann was the one who told him to talk to Arthur. “I just wanted to check in, I guess. Make sure everything’s alright with you.”

“Oh.” The tension in Arthur’s shoulders deflated. “This is about what I told you and Yann last week?”

Lucas shrugged. “Kind of, I guess. We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you want to.”

Arthur seemed to weigh this, folding his hands and unfolding them so many times it almost made Lucas dizzy. It was odd, Arthur was never usually nervous like this, especially not around Lucas. “Well. I’m getting emancipated, obviously. I don’t think you’ve ever met my mom but she’s— she’s something. It was never really about her, but she never did anything, either, so I guess it was about her, in a way.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand,” Lucas said apologetically. He knew Arthur liked to speak vaguely, didn’t like to get too personal, but if they were having this conversation, Lucas needed to be able to follow it.

“Right. Sorry. Um, you know my mom was a ballerina, famous and whatever, that’s why I started ballet. When I was five she hired this special instructor, apparently she was really well known in the ballet world, I don’t know, I was five, but she also… got a little too involved in our rehearsals. I didn’t really even know what was happening, I was too young, so I didn’t say anything. I thought that’s what ballet teachers did. But then I got older, and she stayed under my mother’s employ, and I started to realize the things we did, that she was doing with me, they weren’t, like, normal, or right. That’s when I told my mom about it, but she didn’t believe me. She said I just wanted an excuse to slack off rehearsing. That was when I was twelve, and she was my mom, so I accepted her word and continued doing what I’d been doing my whole life.

“Then when I was fourteen it got… different. My instructor, she— let’s just say some things changed for the worse. At that point I couldn’t blow it off or pretend it wasn’t happening anymore. I hated her, I hated my mom, I hated myself most of all, so I stopped giving a shit. I blew off rehearsals all the time, a habit that I kept up here at school, even though this place was heaven compared to being at home, I started smoking weed a lot, I hooked up with a lot of people I probably shouldn’t have. People who thought I was older than I was, who were much older themselves, because I guess a masochistic part of me was used to it. Eliott, actually, was the only one who noticed. It’s no one’s fault for not noticing what I didn’t want them to notice, but when Eliott did notice, I finally let myself break.”

Arthur shut his eyes and clenched his fists on the table. Lucas realized he’d simply been staring open mouthed and schooled his expression into something more neutral. He and Arthur were more alike than they’d realized, apparently, and Eliott continued to be one of the greatest humans to ever grace the earth.

When Arthur opened his eyes, Lucas pretended not to notice the tears he was blinking away. “Obviously,” he continued, “Some old habits die hard. I still do things I shouldn't. I go out until dawn when I know I have rehearsals at eight, I don’t apply myself in class like I know I can because I don’t want personalized attention, I have unhealthy habits when it comes to relationships, but I tried to start over in little ways. I filed for emancipation at the beginning of last school year with Elliot’s help and I stayed with Alexia last summer, so that’s why we’re closer than we used to be. She was another lifesaver. No one of any importance believed me when I told them about what my instructor did, but at least they believed me when I told them that my mother was emotionally abusive and incredibly manipulative, and she put me into dangerous situations without care or conscience. She still tries to contact me sometimes, and I really don’t want to have to get a restraining order, but I found out that she and my old instructor apparently have been in a relationship for quite a few years and they never told me about it. I don’t even have the words to say how fucked up that is.”

“Fuck, Arthur, I’m so sorry,” Lucas said, unable to keep it in any longer. He wasn’t sure if Arthur was done or not, but he’d paused, and Lucas had used that as an opening.

Arthur just shrugged noncommittally. “You have nothing to be sorry for. That's life.”

“No one deserves that kind of a life,” Lucas said, because that was what he’d learned recently himself.

“I could say the same to you,” Arthur responded, and Lucas smiled sadly.

“I know, that’s why I’m telling you.” Arthur said nothing to that, just continued to look down at his hands. “Um, would it be ok if I gave you a hug?” Lucas asked, because in his opinion hugs made everything better.

Arthur’s head shot up and he shook his head fervently. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Ouch, but ok. Maybe this was about Eliott? They hadn’t talked about that yet, just the two of them, maybe Arthur thought Eliott was the super jealous type or something. “Eliott won’t mind if I give one of my best friends a hug,” Lucas said slowly, and Arthur flushed bright red.

“That’s not what I meant, um, I just actually have something else I need to talk about with you.” Arthur’s hands were fidgeting again. “I… um, simply put, I think I’m in love with you?”

Lucas blinked, certain he’d misheard. There was no way… he and Arthur had always had this intimate dynamic together, but it was always platonic. That was his understanding of it at least.

“What?” he asked intelligently.

Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses, sighing deeply. “I’m kind of in love with you which is why I’ve kind of been avoiding you lately.”

“How long?” What the fuck else was he supposed to ask? To say? It was strange to think that if he and Eliott hadn’t gotten over their shit he might be with Arthur right now.

Arthur shrugged. “Around the time we went to that party Alexia invited us to. We were talking about getting married, and I was drunk, and I just had a fleeting feeling of wanting to kiss you. Then I realized the feeling wasn’t fleeting, and then I panicked.”

“Did you know I was with Eliott?”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “I was as surprised as everyone else last night.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything? Why say something now?” Lucas asked, genuinely.

Arthur smirked, but there was no humor to it. “Because I can handle you rejecting me if you’re in love with someone else, but I don’t think I could have handled you rejecting me because you simply didn’t feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas said, because he didn’t want Arthur to feel like shit because Lucas didn’t love him like that.

Arthur looked away. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, we don’t choose who we fall in love with. I’ll get over it, trust me. In the meantime I understand if you don’t want to be around me or whatever.”

Lucas scoffed, bringing Arthur’s gaze back to his. “Are you serious? Do you really think I would ever not want to be around you? Sure, I’m not in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you with all my heart. You’re one of my favorite people in the entire world.”

“Lucas you don’t have to say that—”

“I know,” Lucas cut him off, “I want to. Because I mean it.”

Arthur began to grin, then. It was small, it was slow, but it was there. “We should probably get out of here, classes start up soon.”

Lucas checked his phone for the time and realized Arthur was right. It felt like no time had passed at all, he’d been too wrapped up in their conversation. Lucas looked at Arthur as they made their way to the door, mulling over a question.

“So what about me, specifically, turns you on?” Lucas asked jokingly as the two of them walked out of the cafe together.

“Shut the fuck up Lallemant, I swear,” Arthur warned, but he was finally laughing.

“My striking looks? My dazzling personality?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, walking a few steps ahead of Lucas. “Your ass,” he said, breaking into a jog before Lucas could register his words. Lucas stood dumbstruck for a moment, then came back into himself.

“Wait a minute, my— Arthur get back here! Were you serious? Arthur!”

Mardi 20:43

For the first time in a long time, Eliott and Lucas were working on Polaris together. Well, more accurately, Eliott was working on Polaris and Lucas was trying to distract him by playing rap songs on the piano.

“Duuude,” Eliott whined, “I can’t focus!”

“Did you just call me dude?” Lucas clarified with a laugh. “Dude-zoned by my own boyfriend. I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

That was all it took for Eliott to drop his focus completely, on top of Lucas so quickly they nearly both fell off the piano bench for what wouldn’t be the first time. Eliott’s lips seared onto his, and Lucas tried and failed to hold back a moan as Eliott teased him, pulling away just enough that Lucas was struck by his absence. Eliott smiled at him, pulling him closer by the waist and sliding him across the bench so he ended up nearly on top of Eliott.

Lucas’ hands snaked around Eliott’s shoulders, a safe space (though Lucas would argue that everything about Eliott made him feel safe), a place for him to lose himself completely. Maybe it would have been frustrating that Eliott smiled into every kiss they shared causing their teeth to clang together if it wasn’t so endearing.

Eliott almost always had his hands on Lucas’ face when they kissed, like holding Lucas was the most important thing in the world. Lucas liked it, he liked it a lot. The security it brought and the way the heat of Eliott’s hands matched the heat on his face were a deadly combination, and Lucas reveled in it.

Nothing compared to the taste of Eliott, though. Granted, Lucas hadn’t kissed many people in his life, but Eliott’s taste was better than all of them combined, and then some. Sometimes Lucas wondered how he compared to Lucille, in Eliott’s eyes, but he would never ask. It didn’t matter if Eliott had loved Lucille’s taste as much as he loved Eliott’s, it was the two of them until the end of time now and no one would ever get in the way of it.

Through a series of events Lucas had little to no recollection of, too caught up in the heat of the moment, of Eliott, they ended up on the floor, heads aligned and their bodies pointing in opposite directions, gazing up at the fluorescent studio lights. Lucas was still breathing a bit heavily, unable to wipe the soft smile from his face. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that you can only share with a person you love deeply.

“You know, we never had our Elu Two-Man Swan Lake World Tour,” Eliott said, breaking that silence and turning his head to face Lucas.

“Shit, that’s right,” Lucas said, as if he’d ever forgotten about it. A stupid part of him had always hoped they’d be able to get over themselves by the time they were seventeen and make good on their childhood plans. Another thought occurred to him. “Oh, fuck you, you get to be Siegfried again.”

“You wanted to do the fouettes!” Eliott reminded him, and Lucas turned his head to face him as well.

“I’ve always wanted to dance with a Prince,” he conceded with a small shrug. In truth, he thought it might be a bit entertaining to play Odette in their mini reproduction of the show, mostly because he and Eliott would have to do a series of lifts and partnering that would probably have been impossible, roles reversed. Not that Lucas would ever admit that to Eliott.

“Saturday?” Eliott suggested. “We could invite our friends, now that none of this is a secret. Are they our friends now, or do your friends still have to pretend to hate me?”

Lucas cracked a smile, leaning over to shut Eliott up with a small peck on the lips. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Well, Lucas thought, challenge accepted.

Jeudi 18:45

Lucas and Eliott had just finished dinner when Manon texted and left Lucas in a state of utter confusion.

Manon: Lucas Lallemant if you don’t get your ass over to room 412 in two minutes I’ll never speak to you again

Lucas: ??? what the fuck ???

Manon: 120, 119, 118, 117, 116, 115…

Lucas: Yeesh I’m coming chill out bro

Manon: 114, 113, 112, 111, 110…

He shut his phone off before her countdown could fall any lower and begrudgingly removed himself from where he’d been tucked into Eliott’s side. Eliott whined and reached for him as he stood up, but Lucas just sighed and shook his head.

“I have to go to Manon’s room, for some reason,” he said, pouting.

“Do you want me to come with?” Eliott asked, but Lucas shook his head.

“No, she’s probably asking me to come because she’s mad I didn’t tell her about us,” he reasoned, leaning back over to run a hand through Eliott’s hair. Why was it always so soft, who allowed that?

Eliott hummed, leaning into his touch. “Don’t be gone too long, I miss you already.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big old sap,” Lucas teased, but his parting kiss said, I miss you too.

When Lucas knocked on Manon’s door she opened it with a stern expression. “You’re seventeen seconds late,” she said without preamble.

“Sorry?”

“Just come in,” she said, pulling him by the hand and shutting the door behind her.

Lucas shrank at the look in her eyes, wondering how much shit he’d have to hear about keeping his relationship a secret. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, which was expected, and frowned. “You already know what I’m going to say.”

“I do,” he agreed, sitting on the couch. He didn’t know where Imane and Daphné were, maybe they were just hiding away in their rooms.

She sat beside him, raising her eyebrows for him to continue. “I’m sorry?” he tried, and she rolled her eyes.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what to say! I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, we just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well, why not?” she asked, and he scoffed, because he was pretty sure she’d been doing the same thing.

“For the same reason I’m the only one who knows about you and Daphné,” he countered.

She furrowed her brows. “Everyone knows about Daphné and me.”

“What? Since when?”

“Well,” she thought about it, “Imane knows because she lives with us, I told Emma the day after I told you because I didn’t want her to feel like I didn’t trust her enough to tell her.” She paused to give him a pointed look. “Then we told everyone else two Saturdays ago, at the terminale brunch.”

The terminale brunch? Oh. Oh. That had been when he and Eliott had been at Eliott’s house. Now it made more sense as to why there was so much drama surrounding the absence. If they hadn’t had an event that morning, no one would have even known Lucas was gone, probably.

“I wasn’t at the terminale brunch,” he reminded her and she blinked, as if just realizing this.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah,” he repeated, and she shoved him.

Her face grew suspicious. “Where were you? You haven’t really told me anything in a long time, Lu.”

He felt guilty as he realized she was right. They hadn’t talked about anything serious since she’d told him about her and Daphné, and he certainly hadn’t volunteered up any information about his own struggle. Everyone knew that he and Eliott were splitting shows, but no one other than them knew why. Manon probably didn’t even know he’d almost been kicked out, he realized with a jolt.

So, he started talking, spilling everything that had happened since the beginning of the year that he’d kept her in the dark about. He tried not to look at her face while he spoke, not wanting to see any of the disappointment or pity that was surely etched there. After a while, she took his hand, but he didn’t stop talking, even when his voice wobbled and he tried to blink tears from his eyes.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Lucas heard her laugh when he told her about his first kiss with Eliott, and he couldn’t help but smile as well. He’d almost slipped up and revealed that he and Eliott had been hiding in a closet when she and Daphné had their first kiss, but he figured he could save that story for years down the road.

“That’s all, I suppose,” he finished, just after he told her about the Elu Two-Man Swan Lake World Tour. He was still too nervous to look her in the eyes, but it turned out he didn’t have to. She simply grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into her, engulfing him in what might have been the world's tightest hug.

“Don’t ever go through something like that again without telling me,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

He squeezed her even more tightly in response. “Yann said practically the same thing.”

“Good.” She pulled away, looking him in the eyes. “We’ll form a Lucas Lallemant defense brigade.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary.”

“You don’t get a say in this.”

“Mmmm… pretty sure I do—”

He was cut off by the door opening, and he and Manon both turned to see who it was. Lucas smiled as Imane walked in, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on here?” she asked, setting down her dance bag.

“We’re starting a Lucas Lallemant defense brigade,” Manon explained, and Lucas glared at her.

“We are not doing that,” he attempted to interject, but Imane wasn’t listening.

She sat down on the couch on the other side of Lucas. “Oh, thank god we’re making it official. I was all alone before.”

Manon raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me, but I’ve been manning the helm of the S.S. Lallemant longer than you.”

“Ladies, ladies, no need to fight over me,” Lucas said, mostly to get them off the topic of a Lucas Lallemant defense brigade. “Besides,” he continued, “Yann has both of you beat.”

Manon and Imane exchanged a glance, shrugging. “That’s fair,” Manon conceded, leaning her head back on his shoulder. Lucas and Manon both looked at Imane, beckoning her to join their cuddle.

“You know you want to,” Lucas said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Whatever would Eliott say?” Imane asked with a fake gasp.

Lucas grinned. “He’d just be jealous we had a group hug without him.”

Imane rolled her eyes, but she put her head on Lucas’ other shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to you talking about him like you don’t want to set him on fire.”

“I never wanted to set Eliott on fire.” First Yann, now Imane. When had he ever said anything like that? He was fairly confident his hatred had remained subtle. Even if perhaps he did say anything of the sort, it’s not like he ever actually would have set Eliott on fire for christ’s sake. Eliott was a bit like fire himself, could a bit intimidating from afar but gets warmer and warmer the closer you get to him. He was also a radiant light shining in any kind of darkness.

“You should be used to it by now,” Lucas continued, drawing back from his own thoughts.

“It’s been less than a week, I’m nowhere near used to it yet either,” Manon laughed, and Lucas turned sharply, meeting Imane’s eyes.

She frowned, not seeing what he was trying to communicate. “Maybe for you…”

“Wait a minute.” Manon sat up. “Did you tell her before you told me?”

Lucas glared at Imane as she finally realized what he’d been trying to convey with his eyes. “In my defense I was having a panic attack,” he added, hoping Manon wouldn’t be too mad.

“Shush,” she cut him off, narrowing her eyes at Imane. Imane just stared back, which was one of the many things he loved about her. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Manon burst out laughing.

“What the fuck!” she gasped through her laughter.

“What the fuck?” Lucas mouthed to Imane, who just shrugged.

“I told Imane before you too,” Manon said at last, her giggles subsiding. “I just didn’t tell you that because I felt bad.”

Lucas gasped. “Et tu brute?”

“That doesn’t work in this context, no one else betrayed you,” Manon pointed out, “Not that either of us betrayed each other, I guess.” She sighed, resigned. “Looks like Imane is the leader of the LLDB then.”

“LLDB?”

“Lucas Lallemant Defense Brigade,” Imane filled in and Lucas groaned, leaning back onto the couch further.

“Forget I said anything!”

The two of them fell back with him, attacking him with more hugs. He felt so light, and he honestly hadn’t known it was possible to feel this light. As good as he felt with Eliott, there had been something missing, and it was honest and open communication with his best friends. Now that he and Yann, Arthur, Manon, and Imane were on the same page about everything, the colors in the world seemed much more saturated.

As the three of them sat there in one big pile Manon brushed a hand through his hair smiling up at him. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but you really look happy now, Lu, the kind of happy that comes from so deep inside that you can’t stop it.”

It was true. Eliott was the poetic one, he could have spun the feeling into a beautiful metaphor or a life changing quote, but Lucas preferred to keep it simple. He wasn’t healed, but he was healing, and he was happy.

Samedi 18:58

Their friends were absolutely ridiculous. Lucas had accidentally slipped and revealed his childhood plans turned reality to Manon the night before and she had, in turn, spilled them to everyone in their year. So now, their two man show was an actual show, and not an excuse for them to escape and make out for inordinate amounts of time. And now their whole year was in the audience with signs and cheers and cake for some reason.

“I don’t know all of Odette’s parts, what was I thinking?” Lucas was not so silently freaking out in the wings of their in house auditorium while Eliott watched him with amusement. Lucas stuck his tongue out at Eliott. “You’re not helping!”

“Did you just stick your tongue out at me?” Eliott asked, failing to conceal a laugh.

Lucas simply made a noise that resembled that of a dying cat. Eliott’s smile grew smaller as he walked over to Lucas, cupping his face in his hands. Lucas sank into the embrace immediately, placing his own hands over Eliott’s wrists.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Eliott said softly, melodically. “I’m perfectly fine with hiding in our room for the rest of the night. I would offer to make food, but we can just order something, I don’t want to burn the building down.”

Lucas took a deep breath and shook his head. “No. I want to do this, I just… it’s hard to let go of being perfect, even if we’re literally just making a mockery of Swan Lake.”

“Who said anything about making a mockery of it? I intend to be the most dazzling Prince you’ve ever seen!” Eliott said, grin encompassing his whole face.

“Eli, I’m serious. I know you’ll be amazing at whatever you do, but it’s hard for me to just… let go. This isn’t a role I’ve trained for, we’ve never actually partnered seriously together, and even though it’s just our friends out there, what if they don’t like it?” Voicing his insecurities was a new thing for him, but he was trying.

“Lu.” Lucas closed his eyes as Eliott leaned all the way in, connecting them further, everywhere but their lips. “You trust me, right?”

Lucas nodded, eyes still shut. He could hear Eliott’s comforting smile. “Good, because I promise you, we’ll both be so perfectly imperfect that it won’t even matter if we get any moves wrong. It’s you and me, now and forever. We may look like idiots, but who cares? What’s love without being idiots together? Besides, when else are we going to get to do this? This might be the last time we get to dance for fun, no expectations attached. Do you really want to miss out on that?”

Lucas didn’t. He wanted, more than anything, to dance for himself. He opened his eyes. “Ok. I’m ready.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s do this.”

Eliott separated them from one another, but not before stealing a kiss. Lucas’ face flushed with the feeling it brought as Eliott grabbed his hand and led him onto the stage.

The stage lights were so bright he could barely see his friends out in the crowd, but he could hear them, whooping and yelling and whistling. Against his wishes, it brought a smile to his face, and when the music started, he just let go.

***

Was he supposed to laugh through the entire performance of Swan Lake? Probably not, but he also wasn’t supposed to play the role of Odette, if that’s even what he was doing. And he also most definitely wasn’t supposed to pause after every partnering interaction to give his boyfriend a kiss, but he preferred this version of the show to the original.

Eliott had shouted out from the wings as Lucas did his thirty-two fouettes, executed to near perfection. He almost wished the director was in there just so he could rub his talent in his face. The finale came too soon, but with it came cheers from everyone in their year, and laughs as Eliott invited them all on stage and played a trap remix of the Swan Lake melody.

Yann came over and spun Lucas with one hand, Arthur with the other, Lucas and Arthur catching each other’s eyes with a knowing glint. Lucas winked, and Arthur rolled his eyes, but he smiled, and they embraced one another, laughing hard enough they couldn’t feel anything but joy.

“No homo,” Arthur whispered into his ear, and Lucas hugged him tighter, loving Arthur more than he could put into words.

Sofiane and Eliott were laughing with one another, Imane standing just out of the way, smiling as she gazed at them. Well, Sofiane, mostly. Lucas would be sure to give her shit for it later.

Daphné snaked behind him, pressing something into his hand and before disappearing with the raise of one eyebrow. He looked down and saw a can of blue silly string, something that immediately transported him back to being seven years old, running around Eliott’s backyard and spraying each other with wild glee.

Eliott’s eyes found him through the throng of people and they smiled, sharing this memory from across the room. Eliott shook his own can in challenge, and Lucas grinned wider, shaking his own can before releasing a long stream in Eliott’s direction.

Shrieks sounded from all over as everyone began spraying each other, using each other as shields, dancing as the silly string fell down onto them. So many colors mixed in the air and on the stage and everyone kept adding more and more until there was an entire rainbow surrounding everyone from all sides.

Lucas lost sight of Eliott and was about to go looking for him when yellow shot through his vision. He scoffed in outrage and turned to see Eliott grinning mischievously and holding his can in triumph. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Lucas sprayed him back, running and following him around the stage, each of them nearly slipping and falling on the string spread about the stage. Eliott turned around at the last second, probably hoping for a surprise attack, and they both sprayed each other at the same time, yellow and blue meeting in the middle like either end of an eternal flame.

He probably looked like a disaster, he could feel all the silly string coating his body, his face, his hair, but Eliott didn’t seem to care. Eliott looked at him like Lucas was all he’d ever wanted. It was still surreal, to be looked at that way, but it was a look he loved, one that he hoped he reciprocated every time he looked Eliott’s way.

Lucas stepped closer to him slowly, and placed a hand on his cheek, silly string falling from his hair as Eliott leaned into his hand.

“I like yellow on you,” Eliott said, gesturing to where he’d sprayed his string all over Lucas.

“Thanks,” Lucas said, “But I think it suits you better than me.”

Eliott pulled back from Lucas’ hand, cocking his head. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because, Eliott Demaury,” Lucas said, pulling Eliott’s face to his, lifting up on relevé to make their heights more level. “You are the sun in its purest form.”

Eliott’s answering smile just before he pulled Lucas into the world’s most colorful kiss proved just that. Eliott was a light that would never go out. They both were.

And they were happy.

#skam france #elu fic #elu ballet au #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #eliott x lucas

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sirchrisjaxon · 7 years ago

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How Our Standard for “Bad” Rappers Has Changed

I remember when I was a kid, I thought Lil Wayne was trash. Many traditionalists thought of him as the death of good rap. His commercial success was seen as a bastardization of the style that rappers like Jay-Z and Eminem created before him. His voice was annoying, his subject matter was crude, and he used the forbidden tool: autotune. But the youth is always on the right side of history, and they embraced the new wave he was creating. Now, he is one of the most successful artists of all time. He kickstarted the careers of Drake, Nicki Minaj, 2 Chainz, and more. His prolific work ethic has influenced rappers like Future, Young Thug, and Gucci Mane. His use of autotune has made it a staple in most commercial hip-hop we hear today. I will never call Lil Wayne one of the best rappers, but I will always defend him as being one of the most important. Today, if anyone says that Lil Wayne is wack, they just sound like a fool. Since his rise, there have been so many rappers so much worse than him that have received the same amount of hype and success that he did (although they might not have lasted as long). I don’t think that every generation of rap is getting worse, but I do think that each generation of consumers if lowering the standard of what it takes to be successful as a rapper. But maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe Lil Pump really is as legitimate as J. Cole. and even though nobody can argue that he is as good of a lyricist as Cole, most people don’t care.

I think this phenomenon is most obvious when looking at the history of the XXL Magazine Freshman Class. Now, I don’t think anyone should expect XXL to choose the best rappers from each year. Instead, they choose the hottest rappers of the last year, and it’s pretty objective. When looking at all of the Freshman covers, there is a very gradual trend of “wacker” MCs being chosen each year. Of course, there are great and trash rappers each year, but the proportion of good to bad becomes more offset on each cover. I’m sure a lot of old heads in 2009 cringed when they saw Asher Roth on the same cover as Wale and Curren$y. People probably laughed in 2011 when Lil B was with Kendrick Lamar and Yelawolf. Same with Iggy Azalea, Chief Keef, and Fetty Wap in their respective years. Then 2016′s cover came out, and there was outrage. “Lil Yachty? Lil Uzi Vert? Desiigner? Kodak Black?? 21 Savage??? How the fuck are you going to put these dudes on the same page as Dave East?” I would imagine many people exclaimed as they slammed their canes on the ground and tore the grey beards off their face. Look, lyrically speaking, Lil B is pretty bad. But if you look back to his cypher, he is LIGHTYEARS ahead of most of the rappers on the 2016 list. But as per usual, XXL was right. All of the “bad” rappers from that year had proven to be the most successful rappers of the next year. I predict the same will be true for this year’s class, with rappers like Playboi Carti, Ugly God, and MadeinTYO having the most impact this year. But if this is anyone’s fault, it is ours, not XXL’s.

Like Lil Wayne, a lot of people hated these “mumble rappers” at first. But artists like Future, Migos, Lil Yachty, and Young Thug are dominating the scene, and are giving way to more and more rappers who (for the most part) don’t really have anything meaningful to say. Even Iggy Azalea had a message (sometimes) and had a flow of a traditional rapper. Now we have lyrics like this, courtesy of Lil Pump:

“100 on my wrist, 80 on my wrist (what?) 100 on my wrist, 80 on my wrist (brr) 100 on my wrist, 80 on my wrist (ooh) 100 on my wrist, 80 on my wrist D Rose, D Rose, D Rose, D Rose D Rose, D Rose, D Rose, D Rose D Rose, D Rose, D Rose, D Rose D Rose, D Rose, D Rose, D Rose”

Wow, what a chorus. Just looking at this, you would think this song is terrible, but it’s pretty lit. And THAT is what is becoming more and more important today. The younger generation does not seem to have as much interest in listening to songs about the struggles of life. They want feel-good, drug-induced party music, which is where these new artists thrive. To be totally fair, Most of these “bad” rappers of today are not making the radio like Lil Wayne and Iggy did. That is a platform still mostly-dominated by great lyricists like Kendrick Lamar and Big Sean. But more of them are making their way into the airways than usual. After reading this, you probably think I don’t like this change. But I really just find it interesting. I listened to Lil Yachty’s “Lil Boat” mixtape almost every day last summer. I knew he wasn’t a great lyricist, but he has had so much influence on me as an artist melodically and production-wise. I would say Eminem is my favorite rapper, but I listen to Yachty and Uzi way more. Why? Because it’s modern and more relatable to my generation. Part of the reason why Eminem was so successful at his time (besides simply being the best) was the amount he created around himself. But the same things about him that the older generation hated were the parts the kids related to the most. But the difference still remains: Eminem is a far superior lyricist to any of the “bad” rappers that I mentioned. I don’t really know why this change is happening, and I certainly don’t want to assume that kids simply don’t want to think that hard. But like the trash rappers before them, I predict they will prove to be on the right side of hip-hop history.

My last note on this change is that most of these new mumble rappers are blowing up way earlier in their career than generations before them. While rappers like 50 cent had to put out a ton of mixtapes before he got famous, a lot of these rappers are going viral from a couple of songs at the age of 17. Perhaps the poor lyrical skill of these rappers is in part because they have not had any time to develop themselves. Maybe in 2023 Lil Pump will be the new Logic. Only time will tell.

EDIT: Which brings me to the biggest question of all (thanks to my friend Tyler Goss for helping with this thought) and that is WILL THEY LAST? It’s safe to say that the old heads have pretty much given up on expecting these rappers to be able to freestyle (except XXL, but thats more for the sake of tradition) so there is no one really trying to weed them out. In addition, all these mumble rappers have highly dedicated fans, most of which are the same age as them. These artists make it extremely easy to stay this dedicated because they release music so often and are so involved on social media that it is hard to forget about them, a method taken from Drake. However, what will happen when these fans grow up? Like I said, these rappers may mature into deeper lyricism and a wider subject matter as time goes on, but what if they don’t? 30 year old rap fans (hopefully) are not going to have much interest in “YEAH I got that ice on my wrist! YEAH I got your bitch on my dick!”. And the newer generation might still be into that, however at that point the artist will be too old for them to really relate to. I think that the best thing that these rappers can do is to grow up WITH their current fans. Trying to act younger than you are (*cough* Jamie Foxx) doesn’t really go well, but showing your fans that you are in the same place in life as them is what keeps them fucking with you. I have no idea if this is the answer, but I know that these rappers are at least living the dream right now.

Check out my ranking of this year’s XXL Freshman Cyphers http://sir-chris-jaxon.tumblr.com/post/162986681526/every-2017-xxl-freshman-cypher-ranked

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shytalia · 5 years ago

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A Prince and A Pirate’s Fate - Chapter 13

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

Chapter Thirteen

Start at Chapter one here:https://shytalia.tumblr.com/post/611878754309079040/a-prince-and-a-pirates-fate-usuk-fanfic

Also available on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytalia

The song Arthur sings in his chapter is “When I’m Gone” by Shawn James :)

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

Going back into the house, Alfred found the kitchen empty. However, by this point he knew how Arthur liked his tea so he poured some of the water into the pot sitting on the stove so it could come to a boil. A few moments later, the Brit returned.

“Ah, you’ve already got the water going. Brilliant.” The captain readied some cups and when the water had finished, he filled each and placed the tea bags inside. “You’ve made your distaste for tea quite clear, would you fancy a cup anyway?”

Alfred couldn’t keep the small smile from splitting across his face at the offer, but shook his head. “No thanks, I appreciate you asking though.”

Arthur shrugged. “Suit yourself, you can have water if you’d like. Now, let Peter know it’s almost ready.” He watched as his captive nodded and left to do just that, not failing to notice the sappy grin on the other’s face as he did so. He wondered what had Alfred feeling so happy.

Moments later, the two came back in and the younger Kirkland hopped into one of the dining chairs, bringing a cup to his lips after pulling out the bag of leaves. Arthur followed suit right after and even though he only poured himself a bit of water, Alfred sat as well.

The prince was uncharacteristically quiet as he watched the brothers go back and forth, talking among themselves as if he weren’t even there. Not that he minded. In fact, the lazy smile was still plastered on his face as he just enjoyed the peaceful exchange. It was so different sitting here with Arthur and Peter than it ever felt on the ship. He enjoyed spending time with them there as well, but here it felt more...domestic. More normal, almost. Like Arthur wasn’t his captain and Peter wasn’t sick. It felt more like a family.

“Arthur, will you play for us later?” Peter asked hopefully. The secret royal almost missed it after being in his own thoughts so long.

“Hmm, perhaps. We’ll see in a bit, alright?” Arthur replied gently.

“Play what?” Alfred found himself asking, effectively slicing the facade of privacy the two were sharing. “You can play something?”

“Yeah! Arthur can play the guitar! He sings too, he’s really good.” The younger sibling grinned proudly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but a small smile stayed on his lips. “I don’t know that I would say ‘really good’, but it is a hobby I enjoy from time to time.” It wasn’t something he partook in very often anymore due to how busy being a captain could be. But, in the fleeting moments of calm like these, he might relax with a good song.

“I would love to hear that.” Alfred admitted aloud, unashamed at his interest. If Arthur could really sing as well as Peter was trying to hype him up to be then why shouldn’t he want to indulge his curiosity?

Arthur pondered it for a moment and let out a small sigh, accompanied by a shrug. “I suppose it won’t hurt.”

Alfred could hardly hide his excitement, which Arthur saw flash across his face like a child getting a new toy. He found himself smiling slightly in return.

--- ♠ --- ♠ --- ♠ ---

Alfred and Peter watched Arthur test the strings of the old guitar with starry eyes. Their dual eagerness was almost humorous considering one of them was a grown man. Still, both of them waited with wide smiles as the older Brit prepared the instrument and cleared his throat.

“What are you going to sing, Arthur?” Peter asked curiously.

“Hm, I was thinking one of the old songs mum used to sing.” They weren’t always the lightest of songs. Many held emotions that were raw and sorrowful, but their mother had never been one to shy away from the reality of the world. His younger brother only smiled more and nodded his approval.

When Arthur was ready, he cleared his throat.

The melody started first, dripping with an emotion Alfred hadn’t expected. It was almost sad. Then, the Brit opened his mouth to sing and the prince felt his chest pull tightly.

“Bury my heart in a willow tree”

His voice cut through the cool, afternoon air. Sitting under the large tree, branches hanging teasingly towards them, he looked unbothered by them as he continued.

“Find shelter and shade in my arms Once I am gone don't mourn for me I hope you take pride in what I used to be”

Alfred swallowed a lump in his throat. Arthur’s words cut into his heart but the content, almost peaceful, look on the captain’s face was telling. It was bittersweet to watch him sing about his own death and yet look so happy.

“I've made mistakes that I can't take back I'm just a man, both good and bad Can you forgive all my wrongs?”

The prince’s hands wrung into the fabric of his pants. Arthur’s voice was magical to him, like a siren beckoning him forward. He could feel a pull in him, calling him deeper and deeper into the other man’s depths.

Each syllable Arthur sang was another sigh of want Alfred felt.

He yearned to tell him the truth, in that moment. To admit his own wrongs, to show Arthur that his sins were not all that he was. Not to him, at least. Never to Alfred. He guaranteed he could forgive Arthur no matter what he did, but the sickening thought that Arthur could not forgive him was paralyzing.

“Memories may fade but what we create may stay Time holds the key of fate Only time can reveal the gate”

The song ended with a roar of applause from Peter, who clapped beside him. Alfred was almost shocked the younger boy enjoyed such a melancholy song. Then again, Arthur’s voice was positively radiant.

“That was amazing!” The smaller sibling declared. “See? I told you Arthur is really good!” He was grinning at Alfred now, who managed to return the gesture to hide his worries.

“It is true, you weren’t lying. You’re seriously fantastic, Cap!” Alfred praised, earning him a cocked smile and a raised eyebrow from the older man. It looked like Arthur didn’t fully believe he thought he was that good. Alfred, however he may have felt hearing the lyrics, stood by his judgement. Arthur was nothing short of a siren himself. “I could listen to you all day.”

At that, the Brit chuckled and shook his head. “I think one song is enough for now.” Only laughing again when the other two blondes pouted in disappointment. “Alright, alright. I’ll play a bit longer, but no more singing for now.”

Alfred and Peter would take that compromise, lying back in the soft grass with the sound of Arthur’s playing surrounding them.

--- ♠ --- ♠ --- ♠ ---

As evening began to turn the blue skies orange, Arthur made sure that his brother had eaten his fill of dinner before preparing him for bed.

Alfred had learned that the three of them were not headed back to the ship for the night. Instead, they would remain here for the time being and he was not about to complain about spending more time with Arthur off the giant boat.

In fact, as sullen as the lyrics had made him and how he pondered over how he could possibly tell Arthur who he truly was, the entire day had been quite relaxing afterwards. His fears and anxieties brushed away by the gentle strumming of the guitar and he had simply enjoyed being near the two brothers in such a relaxing state. That airy mood transferred over to now, after Peter had been put into his bed and Arthur was standing before him with a curious stare.

“Let’s head to the beach for a bit.” The prince offered. They surprisingly hadn’t even touched the sand, despite it really not being that far from the tiny home. But, he supposed beaches weren’t that exciting for pirates.

Arthur was hesitant to leave Peter behind in the house, but knew very well that given their position that no one would be able to sneak up on the building without them noticing first. “You didn’t get enough sand on you in The King’s Grave?” He asked mockingly, ignoring the cringe Alfred gave when he mentioned the harbor’s name again. He chalked it up to him remembering his fight there.

“It just feels really nice out.” Alfred countered with a small grin. “We won’t go far. The moon is bright out so I figured it’d be okay to take a little walk.” He wanted to admit that he wanted to walk with Arthur along the beach like in those many of those old, cheesy romance novels his mother read. He wanted to hold his hand, pull him close in the moonlight, and ravish his lips until they were both out of breath.

“It won’t hurt to take a small stroll, I suppose.” The smaller man relented, allowing Alfred the lead the way out of the small house.

It didn’t take them long to reach the shore line, their steps making marks in the untouched sand. They only walked a short distance, the dim light of the house still very clearly in view.

“Peter mentioned your family earlier. Er, your mom and your brothers.” Alfred couldn’t help but start. He had bit back his curiosity more than once that day but now that he finally had Arthur alone, he couldn’t help himself. “He showed me their graves. I’m sorry if this isn’t a good subject, I just--”

“You just want to know more about me.” Arthur finished for him. “You say that a lot, you know?”

Alfred blushed a little and scratched the back of his head with a weak chuckle. “Only because it’s really true.”

Arthur hummed but didn’t reply, their feet crunching softly in the sand and the gentle rolling of the waves was the only sound. Soon, however, they came to a set of giant rocks, at which the captain paused and sat. He motioned for Alfred to join him on the large, grey stone.

“Arthur,” he voiced carefully. He had a million things he wanted to say but they just jumbled up in his throat. “Why do you not want to be queen?”

The Brit scoffed, “I thought I had made it perfectly clear I didn’t like that question.” Considering the first time it had been asked he nearly killed the younger man. It was brave of him to ask it again, he had to admit. Either that or it was just really stupid.

But, unlike last time, Arthur didn’t fly into a rage. It almost surprised himself that he took the question, which usually irritated him to no end, as calmly as he did. He would blame it on the serenity of their current spot by the waves.

“I know and I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you upset.” Alfred replied quickly. He was telling the truth and he was certain Arthur could tell that by the way he was looking at him.

“But?” Arthur urged. He knew there was more the other man wanted to say.

Alfred nodded slowly, willing himself to continue. “But...you never actually gave me a reason. Most people would want a position like that so I...I don’t know. I guess I just don’t understand, but I want to. You’re smart and you’re strong, I know you must have a reason to hate the idea of being queen as much as you do.” Even though it burnt on his tongue to say, he knew it was the truth of the matter.

The British captain didn’t respond right away, instead he glanced out to the blue waves sparkling under the moonlight. After a few minutes of watching the waters caress the land, Arthur spoke up.

“Tell me, Alfred,” he started slowly, his green eyes still staring out into the vast expanse of the sea before them. “What do you know of Jokers?”

“Jokers?” Alfred repeated, the hint of judgement in his voice audible without him meaning for it to be.

Arthur didn’t fail to notice the raise in the other man’s voice and his lips turned downward. “Yes. You are from the Spade capital, you have a sort of fondness for the royal family, you must know about them. Tell me, what do you think of them?”

Alfred wasn’t sure. He had been told many things of Jokers, none of which were exactly good. Though he had never met any himself, he had been told they were very few and far between. Much like The Goddess marked the future king and queen with the appropriate stamp, Jokers were marked as well but were also of a different, more confusing breed altogether.

Jokers weren’t exactly understood, but a good many believed they brought nothing but ruin and destruction.

Alfred had heard many stories of the past, where people had been falsely accused as Jokers by their peers as a way of revenge. It had been little short of a witch hunt, little proof needed for a painful, if not deadly, sentence to be carried out on the accused. Times had changed since then, of course, but the thought of finding a Joker was taboo at best.

“I...don’t know.” Alfred admitted quietly, wondering why on earth Arthur would bring up such a topic. “I always heard Jokers were evil. That they were a mockery to the Divine and that their symbols were that of darkness. Aren’t they supposed to bring down the fall of the kingdoms?”

Arthur’s face was stony as he listened, his emerald eyes now boring into the young prince with an expression he couldn’t read. It made Alfred cringe inward.

“That’s what you’ve heard but you’ve yet to tell me what you actually think.”

“Oh, umm...” He didn’t think much of it at all, truthfully. It was hard when he had never experienced it first hand. As far as he knew, no Joker had been found in decades. He couldn’t lie that he held a certain apprehension about them, after all the old stories and warnings had to hold some truth. Didn’t they? “I don’t…really think anything about them, I guess. I’ve never met one, so how could I judge someone I’ve never actually met?”

If he had learned anything it was not to fully trust the stories he’d grown up hearing. Arthur unknowingly taught him that much. After all, he had heard so many horrible things about Arthur before having actually met him and yet here he was, completely infatuated. He couldn't see himself with anyone else.

Something about his answer must have struck Arthur, though he didn’t voice his thoughts aloud. The older man’s eyes shifted, dancing across his face as if he were searching for something. After a while, he spoke again. “Peter told you about our mother and our older brothers.” It wasn’t a question so much as just a fact.

“Yes. Well, he told me which grave was whose, and your brother’s names.” Alfred didn’t know any more than that.

“He didn’t tell you how they died.”

Again, not a question. Still, Alfred shook his head no.

Arthur’s thoughtful gaze left his face then and returned towards the ocean. The captain’s green eyes reflected the moonlight off the water and now Alfred felt himself staring at them.

“Have you ever wondered why I named my ship ‘The Siren’s Arrow’?” Arthur asked without looking at him.

“You’re asking a lot of weird questions tonight.” Not that Alfred minded because he did enjoy talking with Arthur, but the pirate was acting off. Like there was something bothering him but he just wasn’t allowing himself to voice his concerns.

The green-eyed man turned and frowned at his servant with an impatient glare. At the annoyed gesture, Alfred decided it’d be best to answer his questions, even if they were strange.

“I...kind of. I mean, pirates always give their ships cool names, right? I always figured it was just a name you thought sounded nice.” He hadn’t thought much about it, truthfully. Out of all the things he wanted to learn about Arthur, his naming skills were not exactly at the forefront of his mind. But, now that it was brought up directly, he found himself curious. “Why did you name it that?”

“After my mother.”

The answer had been so quick and so quiet that Alfred questioned whether it had actually been said out loud at all or if his mind had made it up. He looked to Arthur again, his questions silently gleaming in his eyes until the other elaborated.

“The Siren’s Arrow is a memorial, of sorts. My mother loved to sing and she loved the ocean, much like a siren. The song I sang earlier was something she often enjoyed singing herself while she walked on the beach.” He explained.

Alfred felt that same, worried feeling twist in his chest as before.

“But...what about the arrow?” He asked cautiously. If the siren herself was meant to be Arthur’s mother for such a personal reason, she was no doubt armed for a similar purpose.

At that Arthur gave a small, almost sad smile. It took him a few moments to answer, trying to decide the words to use or if he even wanted to be truthful at all. “The arrow isn’t as much of a metaphor as you might think.” He finally admitted, shifting in a way that Alfred almost thought looked uncomfortable. It was not a look he was used to from the captain.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you really don’t want to.”

Arthur scoffed again. “I’m not a child, lad. I’ve got a stiff upper lip.”

Alfred was unconvinced that Arthur was completely alright with the current topic, but nodded. “So, it isn’t as much of a metaphor. Then why an arrow?” He urged and against his better judgement, reached out and put his hand on top of the other man’s in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

“Right.” The pirate’s mocking grin was gone and replaced by a small frown, but he didn’t move his hand away as Alfred took it. “I asked you how you feel about Jokers for a reason. You probably don’t believe there are any around, do you? Your precious royals tell you everything’s alright because there aren’t any…vermin around to ruin things.” The heat raised in his words as he spoke and his free hand curled into a fist at his side. “What if they were lying?”

“Lying?” Alfred's brows furrowed together in confusion. The King and Queen couldn’t be lying. He was the Prince of Spades, he would know if his parents knew. He was being trained as the next ruler of a powerful empire, they wouldn’t keep secrets from him.

Right?

“Arthur, what are you talking about?” Alfred demanded as softly as he could, but the suspicion and hurt edged his words sharply.

“I’m talking about your shite royals in their damned lies!” The Brit practically yelled back, but his anger was placed far beyond where he was glaring. The fire that burned in his eyes, filled with hatred and despair, was not at the Alfred that sat beside him. It was aimed far away, at the prince he believed to be cooped up in the castle.

The realization that Arthur’s outburst was meant for him, knowingly or not, made Alfred’s guilt grow worse. But how could he tell the fiery captain who he was without him hating him forever?

“What does that have to do with Jokers? Or your family?” Alfred was desperately trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind from the fragments he had been given. This was all suddenly new, despite everything he had been told about Arthur, none of it fit together with the new information he was being given. “Tell me why you hate the Spade Prince so much.”

At that, the Englishman let out a dark laugh. His voice ringing around Alfred’s head like a cruel fog.

“Because,” he started with a menacing smile. “The absolute tosser is the same as the rest of the lot there. A liar. A rich fuck who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. I’ll be damned if I ever let that bastard have me as their queen.”

“You don’t even know him!” Alfred cried in return, searching for anything to tell him Arthur could be convinced to let down some of his hatred for who he really was. His hand gripped tightly around Arthur's in an attempt to ground himself.

“Ha! I know more than enough to know he is no different than the rest. I’d very well skin the coddled prick alive before I would ever marry him.”

Arthur meant it, the prince could see it in his eyes. He’d fight to his last breath to avoid being his queen.

“What about the goddess?” Alfred whispered hopelessly.

“What about her? That she’s playing a fun, little game with us mortals and those royal dumbasses are too far up their own righteous asses to see that? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you believe She marked me with a good heart? Are you forgetting how we even met? What I’ve done to you?” Arthur challenged. He was not a good man, he knew that for a fact. He had done countless things he could never take back no matter how he tried to repent his sins.

“No, I haven’t forgotten.” Alfred replied, clasping the other man’s hand in his and bringing it up between them so he could hold it with both of his. “But that doesn’t change a thing. Why do you insist on thinking you’re a bad person?”

“I am a bad person, you idiot!” Arthur tried to pull his hand away but Alfred only held it tighter in his grasp.

“You’ve done some bad things but I know you aren’t a bad person. You’ve been forced to become something you never asked for, I understand that. It’s a lot to ask of you to become queen.” Alfred pulled the Brit’s hand closer and leaned in to pepper his fingers with light kisses.

Arthur stared at him with wide eyes, though he was still very much fuming. “Stop doing that!” He hissed.

“Doing what? Kissing you?” Alfred asked, the thought of rejection stinging his words sadly.

“That! Why the hell are you so bloody nice? Even after everything?” After all the yelling, the degrading, and even using his body for a night of pleasure, the younger boy was still by his side. Arthur couldn’t wrap his head around it and the dizziness from it made his mind swirl in confusion.

“Oh,” Alfred let himself smile, a harsh contrast to the glaring Brit looking back at him. “Because...I think I’m falling in love with you.”

To say Arthur’s eyes went wide would be an understatement. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, staring at the taller man as if he had three heads and a tail. As if he were completely insane, because he had to be to say something that ridiculous.

“I know you told me not to develop feelings but...you can’t really help who you fall in love with, you know?” Alfred blushed and shrugged sheepishly, blue eyes glancing to the side. “And I understand you don’t want that. I know...you like your solitude. But I also know you enjoy tea, and roses, and reading. I love knowing that about you, even if you don’t want to know things about me. That’s okay, as long as you’re happy then I’m happy.”

The prince watched the other with hopeful eyes, carefully weighing the emotions rapidly shifting across Arthur’s face. Eventually, the Brit shook his head but his mouth didn’t attempt to make any words.

“It’s alright. Like I said, I just want you to be happy.” Alfred reiterated gently. As much as he wished Arthur would return his feelings, he knew that asking for that was next to a miracle even without the Brit knowing his secret identity. “But, you’re not completely happy.” He said without warning, noticing the furrow deepening on Arthur’s brow. “You aren’t completely happy and I have a feeling the royal family is the cause...are you willing to tell me why? What all that talk about Jokers and lies were? I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me!” Arthur blurted out.

“Try me.” He replied easily.

Once again the only sound was that of the waves dragging across the sand. It went on that way, with Arthur glaring daggers at the secret prince but not making any attempt to pull his hand out of his strong grip.

The Brit’s face scrunched up in an array of pained emotions. Namely anger, as his scowl deepened the more he thought back on what led him to hate the Spades so fervently. If Alfred wanted the truth so badly, then let him have it.

“Your royals murdered my family.” Arthur finally answered, his words dry against his throat.

Alfred’s own brows knitted together in tempered confusion. “Why would they do that?”

Arthur let out a sarcastic laugh, but his answer was swift. “Because, that’s what they do! They kill anyone who doesn’t do what they say.”

He could see that Alfred wanted more of an explanation without him even having to say it, so he obliged. If his little captive wanted to know his past so badly then he would tell him, and he would smear his bloody truths across the faces of the king and queen as he went.

“My family did nothing to them and they had them slaughtered like swine. All because of some old wives tales of ruin and disaster.” Arthur’s glare bore into Alfred with an unrelenting fury. For a moment, the young prince was worried the captain had figured out who he was and was planning his murder. “My brothers and my mother died so that Peter and I could live. Your damned King and Queen ordered the death of a child hardly old enough to write his own name! For what? Because of some mark on his skin, he’s supposed to be a monster? He wasn’t! He isn’t a monster! But they couldn’t bother themselves long enough to see that, once they heard he had a Joker’s mark they ordered him to die.”

Alfred stared at Arthur in confusion and worry. The captain was riled up but he held fast to his hand, doing his best to run his thumb over his pale knuckles in an attempt to relax him. Slowly, the pieces were coming together. “Peter...is a Joker?” He hoped he didn’t sound too hesitant.

Those green eyes snapped to him with a determined glower. “Peter is the child your royals want dead even though he has done nothing wrong.” He corrected sharply. “My older brothers stayed to fight off the guards and were shot down as we fled. My mother brought us to the pier and stowed us away on a ship no one else dared to go near. Every bit of coin she had saved went to begging a pirate captain to allow us passage on his ship. But the royal guards were drawing near, leaving the broken bodies of my older brothers in their wake.”

The waves against the sand bristled to life, their soft caresses quickly shifting into a hard pound. The wind grew stronger, threatening to push them from where they sat perched on the rocks. Alfred recognized this sudden shift in power but didn’t say anything, he just allowed Arthur to continue.

“My mother knew they’d find us, so she left me and Peter on the boat. She ran back onto land, bow in her hand, to distract the guards long enough so I could take Peter and escape. Then, they killed her too...but it worked. We escaped and became pirates ourselves to survive against a kingdom that hates us.” It was rough at first, no doubt. But through hard work, Arthur earned his keep and then worked even harder so he could earn young Peter’s as well. Thankfully, pirates had a knack for avoiding the navy so that was one worry they didn’t have to stress too much on.

“We came back here eventually, after I became a captain with my own crew. We found where they had buried the bodies and moved them back home.” Arthur explained. “But then, of course, that couldn’t be it. No, now I’m supposed to be some dress up doll for Spadian nobility that want nothing more than to see my brother dead.”

“It might not have to be that way, maybe we can convince them to compromise.” Alfred offered, unconvincingly. Arthur sent him a nasty glare.

“What the hell are you supposed to do? You don’t hold power over what they do. You’re as much of a disposable body as any other poor sod to them.” He nearly growled, making Alfred close his mouth. He couldn’t tell him the truth. “They’d strip me of everything if they could. If I let my guard down for just one second too long they’ll dispose of Peter like it was nothing. Me being marked as the future queen means nothing. It’s all for show, surely you’ve realized this? They don't want me, they just want the body with the mark on it.”

Alfred felt his mouth go dry.

What was he supposed to say? He wanted to plead with Arthur and tell him things didn’t have to be that way. But, how could he do that without revealing himself?

Then there was the issue of Peter. He held no doubt in his mind that he still adored the kid to death and wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. He was certain he could convince his parents to spare him and, in time, they would care about him as well. But that didn’t change the fact he had never known about him in the first place. His parents had ordered his death without Alfred ever even knowing a Joker had been found at all.

The trust he felt for his own mother and father was wavering. What else could they be lying about? And out of all things, how could they lie to him about Arthur?

“Artie,” Alfred’s grip on the slender hand tightened and he brought it closer to his lips, peppering it with soft kisses once more. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll be your hero, don’t worry.”

Arthur let out a mocking laugh, but Alfred was determined to prove he was telling the truth.

“I know you don’t need me. I told you already, you’re strong on your own. But I still want to fight for you anyway.” He was serious, catching the other blonde’s gaze and holding it for a long moment.

“You truly are a ridiculous git, you know that?” Arthur replied with a slight smile, his words holding no malice. The wind around them calming to a cool breeze and the waves slowing back to their previous peacefulness. The British captain himself was visibly more calm despite the words he spoke.

This made Alfred smile warmly in return.

“So you’ve told me.” The prince chuckled, leaning in to capture Arthur’s lips on his own.

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