#the question is how bad the fallout will be

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For A Demon, Night 4: The Girl & The Glass Slipper (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Lucanis,

I’ve nearly finished the preparations for Caterina’s funeral. Meet me at the Diamond when you can, I could use your help with a few things.

-Teia  

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on his cot, with the letter in his hands. A part of him thinks if he burns it, it won’t be real. Like Caterina’s death could be carried away with embers on the wind. The paper crumples at the edges under the pressure of his grip, and the throbbing in his head won’t stop.

A year in the Ossuary. A year of torture. Of starvation. Of shutting down to his most base instincts. Of Spite.

Then, a light in the darkness. A tiny prickle of hope settled in his chest that Caterina would be waiting for him at the Dellamorte Estate if Rook could break him out. He started to wonder what she would look like after a year. A few more wrinkles on her brow from constantly scowling at everyone (except Teia)? Was her light grey hair wispier and thinner? Would she lose some of her height to age but still stand taller than anyone else in the room?  

There was no time, then, to dwell on those thoughts. They had much to do before he could escape. What had Rook said back then? A prison break, a blood heist, and an assassination just to get her mage killer?

They quickly fought their way through the prison, destroyed his phylactery, and killed Calivan.

And so, a Tevinter mage, a dwarf, and a possessed assassin had walked out of an underwater prison and into a casino. It was like the start to a bad joke.

Unfortunately, he would never get the answers to those questions. Would never see how much or how little she’d changed during his imprisonment. Lucanis learned his grandmother was dead at the hands of the Venatori soon after arriving at the Cantori Diamond with Rook and the others. He missed seeing Caterina again by hours, maybe minutes. Throwing himself into this job with Rook was the only thing that would keep his thoughts on anything but the lingering guilt, and anger, and frustration. It keeps him preoccupied enough that he doesn’t to deal with the fallout of his own emotions.

Lucanis Dellamorte doesn’t need time, he needs a target.

But there’s no target between now and the funeral. There is only time. And he doesn’t know how to fill that time without Madeleina and her stories.

He doesn’t know when she will return from the Grand Necropolis. If she’ll even return in time for the funeral.

Lucanis leans forward on his forearms and faces an uncomfortable truth.

He doesn’t want to return to Treviso without her.

Not for Caterina’s funeral, at least. He knows himself well enough to realize that going alone would be a recipe for disaster. There won’t be a target to bury his sword in. Nowhere for him to escape his thoughts. Nothing to redirect all that pain and anger somewhere else.

Unless she’s beside him, creating wonders with her mind and magic. Sharing a cup of cioccolata, devouring his desserts. Just being there, with no expectation of anything other than good company and trading stories.

I want. To Talk. To Rook. Spite echoes. He’s practically clawing at the back of Lucanis’ eyes. Want. Rook.

The demon’s howling in his head grows louder. It takes every ounce of hard-won self-discipline, hewn from a childhood of starvation and torture, to put up a wall between the echoes of Spite and the rest of him.

“Enough, Spite” He growls, tossing the letter aside and gripping the sides of his head. He shuts his eyes tight, as if that will keep Lucanis in and Spite out.

Find. Rook. NOW.

He squeezes harder until tresses of raven hair are bunched between his fingers.

Find. Rook. Find. Rook. Find. ROOK.

WHERE. IS. ROOK.

“Mierda! Spite! STOP!”

A flash of pain, a gush of blood from his nose. He grunts and wipes the blood dripping down his nose with the back of his hand. Lucanis is used to Spite’s retaliations but that doesn’t make them any less pleasant to deal with.

His tantrum mirrors the one from their first night at the Lighthouse.

The first night that Madeleina insisted they could find a way to help him. Outright rejected, and even seemed a little angry, at the mere mention of killing him to cure his possession.

He now understood why she staunchly defended him and Spite against those in the group that were wearier of them. Lucanis would have never guessed, not in a million years, that the bubbly and joke-slinging Rook was almost possessed by a demon herself once. And not just any demon, despair. It was one of the strongest variants of demons because it feeds from one of the strongest emotions; the antithesis of hope, that small light in the distance that makes one willing to endure any torture, any hardship, for the promise of something better. Despair was a void, an abyss. So easy to sink into and never return.

She almost sank into that void.

Spite was an unpleasant demon to deal with, downright bratty and vindictive most of the time– but he couldn’t imagine pure despair.

It ate up her life until nothing was left.

As his thoughts turn to Madeleina’s story, Spite, miraculously seems to settle.

Only for a moment, because just now, he hears a soft knock at the door. Normally he would have heard the person before their footfalls even reached his doorstep – would have clocked exactly who it was, too, by the sounds of their footsteps.

Short, brisk steps for Harding. Light skips for Bellara. A soft clink and a confident step for Neve. And sure, even steps for Davrin.

Soft, unhurried, leisurely steps for Rook.

“Hey Lucanis, can I come in?” Comes Madeleina’s soft voice from the other side of the door.

Rook. He can feel Spite’s cheshire grin at the edges of his consciousness.

Although they are of one mind, he doesn’t know what the demon’s infatuation with Rook is. What it means for her. What it could mean for both of them. And that scares him. This tenuous reliance he’s building with her - Spite is an unknown variable in that equation. Until he’s solved it, he’ll do whatever is necessary to keep her safe. Even if that means denying what he may feel for her. That thing he still doesn’t have a name for.

“Come in” He answers, quickly wiping clean the last of the blood before it dries down and he has something to explain to Rook.

The door opens, and in she steps. She’s looking much better than a few days ago when he found her in the music room eating Solas’ ancient cheese.

Why was Solas storing cheese in the music room when he had a pantry?

He refocuses. She’s wearing her casual Shadow Dragon armor – a lilac purple ensemble with a red sash around the middle that does her ample curves every favour.

He stops that train of thought with a hello and a forced smile.

Smells like death stink and mothballs. Not. Right.

“Back from the Necropolis already?” He asks, desperate to ignore Spite, “Did you find Bellara’s Fade expert?”

Rook smiles and rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. She’s beaming so hard he worries she might fly through the roof.

“We did!” She gushes, “Professor Emmrich Volkarin. He’s quite the character- you can really tell he’s got a passion for what he does. I’ve never heard someone explain sub-astral manifestation so eloquently! And!”

She excitedly holds a finger up, “He has a skeleton assistant!”

Lucanis takes a pause.

“The Necromancer … brought a skeleton with him…”

Madeleina frowns. “Not just any skeleton. This one moves. Of his own accord! And he speaks – well hisses, but sometimes I think I can tell what he’s saying. His name is Manfred and he’s absolutely delightful. I was just having tea with the Professor and Manfred brought me a nice cup of jasmine – that he made himself!”

When he doesn’t share her excitement, she lifts a brow.

“What? You’re not a fan of necromancy?”

Lucanis sighs and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m a large believer that dead things should stay dead. It’s every assassin’s worst nightmare to plan a kill down to the minute, and the target starts walking again”

Madeleina considers his response and shrugs, “I guess that makes sense. I still think it’s incredible though.” Brows drawn together in thought, she puts a thumb under her chin and looks down “I’ll have to pick his brain later about the metaphysical implications of necromancy and how Fade resonance may impact reanimation…”

“Madeleina?”

She snaps her attention to him once more, “Oh… sorry”

Lucanis shakes his head and gives her a light smile. He doesn’t want to linger on how cute she looks when she’s deep in thought. The way her brows scrunch together. Dark, wispy lashes falling over light green eyes. The corners of her soft, full lips pulling down. Ringlets of brown curls falling over her face. No, he won’t linger on that.

“I … wanted to ask you something. If you have a minute”

Madeleina straightens and smiles. “Of course. What’s going on?”

“Teia wants to meet”

She grins, “That hardly sounds like a bad thing.”

Madeleina and Teia, although having met only briefly, had already become fast friends. There’s something in their easygoing nature that attracts everyone to them. They spin people around their light, catching them in their orbits, like planets circling the sun.

“She wants to plan Caterina’s funeral”

Madeleina’s face falls almost instantly, and she looks like she’s about to kick herself for her comment earlier. “Oh …. Right ….”

He hesitates, and silence falls between them. Madeleina still isn’t looking at him.

He sighs, and builds up the courage to ask her what he was going to seek her out for.

“If you don’t mind, I … could use some back up.” He points to his head, “In case Spite gets out of hand”

Her green eyes meet his own. Sometimes he feels like she’s drowning him with her gaze, pulling him in until there is nothing but her.

“Let’s not keep Teia waiting then”

~*~

They meet Teia and Illario on the top floor of the Cantori Diamond.

“Good! You’re here” Teia smiles warmly.

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia” He gives a respectful bow of his head. Lucanis knows what Caterina meant to Teia. The old bird always had a soft spot for her. Then again, he’s certain almost everyone did. Even one prickly, and all-too-peculiar Fifth Talon.

She waves him off, “For Caterina? How could I do otherwise?”

Her pretty features fall into an expression of mixed pity and sorrow.

“I’m so sorry Lucanis…” She starts, turning towards him, “This must be such a blow”

Teia then turns to Rook, and flashes her a dazzling smile.

“Rook, thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to help plan this” She jerks her head to his cousin, standing behind her like a shadow, “This one has been no help at all”

Illario frowns, not even contesting the point. “I’m sorry Teia. This is just … too much right now”

Illario always caves under pressure. Lucanis reigns in the sigh that desperately wants to escape his lips.

Madeleina gives Teia an earnest smile, and puts a hand on her chest, “If there’s anything I can do, just say the word”

Teia’s smile grows even wider at that. “You’re such a dear. I hope these two are paying attention”, she grins at both Lucanis and Illario.

He’s not sure why he says what he says next, but the second the words fly out he wants to pull them back with his hand and shove them into his mouth.

“Teia, don’t flirt with my … colleague”

Teia gives him a knowing smirk, “Jealous?”

He’s going to protest, but she continues before he has a chance. “Fine, to business then. There’s a lot to plan, but first, I need the ashes”

She casts an expectant glance at Illario, who looks caught off guard. Unusual.

“… Ashes…?” He repeats slowly.

Teia puts a hand on her hip and frowns, annoyed. “Maker help us, yes, the ashes! Caterina’s ashes. From the cremation?”

“Oh, yes, of course” Illario gestures and smiles, but there’s something insincere about it – even for him. “I’ll get them to you rightaway”

He can’t stop himself from asking, “Illario … what happened?”

Madeleina tenses next to him. Illario just looks confused.

“What do you mean?”

Mierda. What else could I mean, he thinks, wondering if his cousin is playing dumb on purpose just to piss him off. “Caterina” he answers, barely hiding the aggravation in his voice, “How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the Estate? In the City”

He wants to stop, but he can’t. His mouth is forming words faster than his brain can think them.

“How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know”

Illario frowns and there’s something almost patronizing in his voice when he speaks next. It frays every nerve in Lucanis’ body. “Cousin. Stop. You can’t dwell on this- it will drive you mad”

“I’m not dwelling” He frowns. Lucanis can hardly believe he even needs to ask for these details. Illario should be offering them up unprompted. “Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how if I’m going to stop her”

“I told you, I’m handling it” The hard, almost defiant edge in Illario’s voice strikes another nerve. Some deep, raw, primal anger he’s trying hard to pull back from, lest he give Spite more fodder.

There is something off about his cousin, and he can’t quite pinpoint what. Was he really acting unusual, or had he truly changed so drastically in the time he’s been away, that Illario may as well be stranger?

Teia interrupts his thoughts with an exasperated sigh, “Boys, enough of this. We have other things to discuss”

“My apologies, Andarateia. Continue without me. I’ll … get you the ashes” Illario says quickly, seemingly desperate for a reason to excuse himself. He all but takes off down the hallway.

Madeleina clears her throat. Lucanis might have forgotten she was standing next to during that odd exchange with Illario, but there’s a certain steadiness she provides him that makes it impossible to do so.

“How are you holding up, Lucanis?” She asks quietly. He can tell there’s more she wants to say but is keeping it to herself- perhaps to divulge later, or, to simply bury away in her own mind.

“I’ll be fine” He nods, “Better once we kill Zara Renata”

Lucanis jerks his head to the spot where Illario stood just moments before, “It’s him I’m worried about”

Teia folds her arms over her chest, and concedes, “Illario can be a handful sometimes”. She shakes her head and turns in the direction he sprinted off in, “But this … the only time I’ve seen him like this is when we thought Lucanis died”

Her expression morphs into something softer, more teasing. Teia grins, slyly, “You’re worrying, aren’t you. What will people say when they learn the ‘Demon of Vyrantium’ has a big, soft heart”

Madeleina looks like she’s holding back a giggle.

You’re more heart than you give yourself credit for.

Now was not the time for this. Lucanis decides to ignore her comment for his own sanity.

“He’s been careless at times, but never when his own life was on the line. Zara took down the First Talon. Anyone could be next. And my cousin doesn’t want to think about it?”

“You’re right, it’s not like Illario to ignore the knife coming at him …”

Lucanis decides to shift the subject. “What do you need from me for the funeral?”

Teia looks happy for the distraction. She smiles, and motions for the two of them to follow her, “Come” The Seventh Talon says, as she makes for the grand, winding staircase, “I’ll get us some drinks, and we can talk about the arrangements”

~*~

The funeral passes by in a blur.

Madeleina, excited to show off some new spells she’s learned in her short time with the Necromancer, helped set up the decorations for the funeral. She summoned wisps to close all the curtains in the casino – an Antivan tradition thought to keep wayward souls from wandering. The wisps also carted flowers – boughs of deep crimsons, blacks, and purples, to and fro, setting them down gently wherever she commanded.

There are words and prayers from a revered mother of Treviso’s Chantry, from Teia, and a few from him. But none from Illario. He doesn’t know what to make of that but decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. Lucanis is dead for a year, shows up, and now Caterina is gone. He supposed to it would be a lot for anyone to take in.

He and Madeleina have found a quiet hallway after the funeral. Most of the attendants have already filtered out of the casino, a sea of black flooding Treviso’s narrow streets.

Madeleina sits beside him, in that familiar, companionable silence they’ve come to enjoy with each other. She plays with a wisp she’s summoned, smiling as the faint green-blue creature of the Fade makes playful circles around her hand.

“Thank you … for being here today” He says quietly.

Madeleina turns to him and smiles, “No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for”

Friends?

This is the first time she’s ever called them… something. He supposed friend was an apt description. He ignores the how the word makes his heart tug lower into his stomach.

“Goodbye little friend, thank you for your assistance” She whispers to the Wisp, and snaps it out of existence. He feels – well, something, at being referred to in the same manner as this little ball of light from the Fade. He’s not sure it’s a good something.

He doesn’t know how to ask her this. If there’s even a normal way to ask what he wants her to do for him. Oh well.

“Madeleina … will you … will you show her to me?” He hopes he doesn’t have to elaborate.

He wants to see what Caterina looks like through Madeleina’s eyes. How much she had changed, how much she stayed the same since his time in the Ossuary.

His faith in her is not misplaced. Madeleina’s expression softens with understanding.

Smells like roses and incense, Spite remarks quietly.  

Madeleina wordlessly conjures an image, with an elegant flourish of her hand, of Caterina. There is much of her that is the same. That familiar stony expression, that fierce, indominatable look in her narrow eyes. But she has changed, too. There’s a faint glimmer of sorrow he can pick out, even in her illusion. Her frown lines are more prominent. Her hair is a bit shorter, thinner than he remembers. She has more age spots. But her cane, her long leather overcoat- those are still as he recalls them.

He can tell from the look on her face that she’s concentrating hard, likely trying to remember every last detail of Caterina.

For him.

Lucanis releases a soft, pained breath. Almost shuddering. Tears prick at the edges of his eyes, and he bites his tongue to keep them from escaping. He can’t look at her anymore.

When he turns away for a moment, Madeleina waves her hand, and the illusion of Caterina vanishes on the wind.

“Lucanis…?”

Her hand is hovering next to his arm. Not touching, but close enough to feel its warmth, the comfort it provides. “Are you alright?”

Lucanis gives her a sidelong glance and forces his mouth to stretch into a tight smile. “Yes – yes, I’m alright. Thank you”

She’s gotten quite good at picking out his lies. Impressive for someone who’s not a trained assassin. Or perhaps he’s merely let too much of himself be free and unrestrained in front of her, that she’s gleaned all of his tells.

Madeleina is quiet for a moment.

“How about a story?” she pulls her hand away from by his shoulder and rests it on her lap. “One with a happy ending today, maybe”

He chuckles bitterly. A small part of him was hoping she would offer that. He’s asked too much of her already to say it himself.

Alone in a dimly lit hallway, sitting on a bench underneath an alcove. He supposes it’s as good a spot as any. This is as quiet as he’s ever heard the casino. Teia must have closed up shop early after the funeral, because there is no raucous laughter from the gambling halls.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Madeleina turns her body slightly, so she’s facing him. “I think I know just the one”

Lucanis lets himself relax for the first time all day. He lets the tension fall from his jaw, his shoulders, his legs, and simply watches and listens.

“This one comes from Starkhaven” she starts, leaning closer for a conspiratorial whisper “Some say it’s actually the story of King Artesian Vael and Queen Wilhemina Vael from all way back in the Exalted age” Madeleina leans back and shrugs, “More than likely she got tied up in it because he was the first King to marry outside of royalty. It’s called ‘The Girl and the Glass Slipper’”

Lucanis can’t tell whether he enjoys her little history lessons for what they are, or he just likes the sound of her voice. He watches intently as her hands glow blue, and with another flourish, conjures her first image.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a happy family”

Three figures spring to life, rotating in the space between them. A tall, lanky man, with a kind countenance. A younger woman – beautiful with long, curly hair, and soft features. A little girl, with her mother’s hair, and her father’s gentle eyes.

“Her father was a travelling merchant, and so his work took him away for long stretches of time. But he always brought his girl back something special, just for her”

Madeleina smiles and the family disappears.

A figurine of a delicate porcelain ballet dancer spins in place. Then, it morphs into a hardcover tome – he can’t make out the title, but it looks far too large and complicated for a child’s bedtime storybook. The book becomes a gilded hair brush, before fading into nothing.

The family appears once again, but the mother is on her knees, with the other two standing behind her. The figure coughs several times and doubles over again.

“But her mother was not well. With time, she kept getting sicker and sicker” Madeleina continues, “As she was dying, she said to her daughter ‘Be good, be pious, be courageous – and above of all, be kind. Do this, and the Maker will take care of you where I cannot’”

The woman holds her daughter’s hand in hers, before she scatters into ashes on some invisible wind.

“And the girl was kind” Madeleina continued wistfully. She raised her hand, and the girl changed into a beautiful young woman. “Kind to others, kind to the animals in her care and those that weren’t” She is visited by all manner of wildlife – squirrels, birds, mice, chickens – even deer. The woman hands out food to each of them – big or small.

“In time” Madeleina waves the girl and the animals out of existence, replacing them with the figure of the father and three others. “Her father decides to remarry.”

The other woman has sharp, elegant features. Her thin lips are set in a permanent sneer. Her two daughters appear to share this feature.

“The Vicomtessa and her daughters quickly make themselves at home. At first… they’re cold, but polite”

The woman is seen trying to befriend the two stepdaughters, but they turn their noses up at her and walk away down some invisible corridor.

“One day, her father has to go away on another business trip. He asks the girls what they would like as presents. ‘Fine clothes!’ answers the first sister. ‘Fine jewels!’ exclaims the other.” The two sisters are practically falling over themselves at their imaginary jewels and clothes.

The scene shifts to the young woman and her father next.

“But his daughter thinks for a moment, before answering. ‘Bring me the first twig, father, that your traveller’s cap strikes on your way home. That is what I should like you to bring me.’”

She and her father embrace briefly, before he disappears into the air.

“But he would never return home. He’d fallen ill on the road back from Orlais. One of the servants who travelled with him brought the girl a hazel twig in a small box. ‘What of my jewels!’ cried the first sister, ‘What of my clothes!’ cried the second.”

Then, the stepmother appears behind them and slaps each on the shoulder. It looks so realistic he swears he can hear the sound of her gloved hand striking skin.

“’Quiet you fools – don’t you see we’re ruined’ The stepmother said. And she began consolidating the father’s remaining assets as her own. She releases all of the staff, that she may take the money meant for their upkeep to enrich herself”

The figure of the woman watches as a few faceless servants leave with rucksacks and little wagons of their belongings. The stepmother appears behind her.

“’But madam – ‘The girl starts, ‘How shall we maintain the estate without our people?’”

Lucanis already doesn’t like where this is going.

The stepmother’s figure boasts a wicked smile, sharp enough to cut glass.

“The girl was forced to take on the role of all the servants who left. They took her bedroom so the sisters may keep their dresses, always in the latest fashion from Orlais, stored away there.”

The young woman is now dressed in a tattered, old kirtle. Her long hair is pulled back into a bun, as she sweeps. Then washes the invisible floor. Then hangs the laundry. Then dutifully feeds the animals. But she never frowns. She always smiles and signs while she works.

“The stepmother and stepsisters treat her terribly. But the girl is always kind, as her mother told her to be”

Want to stab. Spite thinks gleefully. Stab. The sisters.

The sisters point and laugh as she does the chores. The stepmother watches with cruel indifference.

“Every night she lies down by hearth, for she has no bed, and wakes with the marks of cinder ash on her face” Madeleina has the figure of the girl curled up by a ghostly fire. “And so, they call her Cinderella – a cruel joke”

“One day, a proclamation from the palace comes. ‘All maidens of marriageable age are invited to attend a ball, in honour of his Royal Highness, Prince Theodore, that he may find a wife. The stepmother and stepsisters waste no time spending what little coin they have left of their dwindling fortunes on the most expensive dresses they could get their hands on”

The stepmother and stepsisters twirl about in puffy, fancy – gaudy, ballgowns, while the girl watches in her rags.

“’But I am also of age’ Cinderella proclaims. The stepsisters laugh,” The figure of the stepmother cuts them off with a hand, and the girls are silent. “’You may go to the ball if you finish your chores. Sweep the kitchen, the parlor, the bedrooms. Then wash the floors. Afterwards, wash, dry, and fold all of the laundry. Mend all the clothes. Feed the animals. Collect the eggs and milk. Clean the stables.’ On and on the stepmother went with an impossibly long list of chores. And it was meant to be impossible, for she would not allow Cinderella to go to the ball”

Madeleina frowns and waves the figures out of existence. She blinks and rubs her eyes.

“Madeleina – what’s wrong?” Lucanis asks quickly, daring to lean closer.

She pinches her cheek, leaving a red welt in place. “Mmm … yeah. I guess I used a lot of magic to help with Caterina’s funeral” Her eyes blink in and out of focus. She slaps her own cheeks a few times to perk up. “It’s easier to keep the illusions up in the Lighthouse since it’s in the Fade. I don’t need to expend as much mana”

“If you’re tired – “

She cuts him off with a dismissive wave. “No, no… I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I just need a moment. The story’s almost done anyway”

Madeleina sucks in a deep breath and exhales. With a clap of her hands, she’s launching back into her story.

“Where was I? Right”

She waves the figure of Cinderella back into existence, who is sweeping an invisible floor.

“Cinderella, although she tries her best, doesn’t finish all of her chores in time for the ball.”

A carriage, led by two decorated chargers, appears next. The stepmother and stepsisters push Cinderella aside as they climb into the carriage. He watches as it speeds away and vanishes into thin air.

The dejected form of Cinderella drops her broom and starts crying silent tears.

“She can’t help but cry. All she has ever been is kind to her stepmother and stepsisters. Why do they treat her so? What did she ever do to them?”

As the girl cries, he sees the hazel twig from earlier in the story reappear in front of her. The twig transforms into a ghostly figure of the girl’s mother. Cinderella looks up.

“But from far away in the Fade, her mother’s spirit hears her cry for help. ‘My child, you have done as I asked. You have been so courageous and so kind. The Maker bade me return to your side. Fear not Cinderella, for you will go to the ball tonight”

The figure of the mother waves her hands in the air and summons a gilded carriage, with two ghostly chargers – eyes glowing white like burning diamonds, to helm it. Her kirtle transforms into a beautiful gown, with rose appliques decorating the skirts. The figure of Cinderella peaks her foot from underneath the ballgown. Her feet are clad in wooden clogs, the inelegant footwear contrasting her incredible gown.

“’But mother, what of my shoes?’ She asks, and the spirit of her mother smiles. ‘I shall give you the finest shoes this Kingdom has ever seen or will ever see!’” And with a wave of her ghostly hand, the clogs transform into iridescent glass slippers. Lucanis leans in closer to inspect them. Madeleina has even managed to create the illusion of prisms of light reflecting off of them.

Will her wonders ever cease?

The mother shoos her daughter into the carriage quickly, “’Go on now! Time runs late – my magic will only hold until the bell tolls midnight! Fly Cinderella and find your happiness!’”

“’Thank you, mother!’ she cries”

He can’t help but smile as Cinderella is spirited away to the ball.

Madeleina conjures the image of a grand ballroom next. A string quartet in one corner. Nobility and commoners alike spinning about the dancefloor.

When the figure of Cinderella appears, the crowd parts immediately. If the figures could speak, he would be hearing shocked gasps and whispers.

“Cinderella arrives at the ball, and the Prince immediately takes notice”

A handsome young man dressed in an elegant doublet makes his way towards the figure of Cinderella, bows low at the waist, and holds out his arm for her. She takes his arm, and they begin spinning about the dance floor in a slow waltz.

“And when they dance together, it’s like there’s no one else in the world” Madeleina snaps her figure, and the rest of the crowd disappears. “The two quickly fall in love. And just as about the Prince is about to ask her name, the first toll of midnight arrives”

The figure of Cinderella parts from the Prince quickly and begins to run away. He chases after her, only stopping to pick up a glass slipper she left behind. “Cinderella runs to the carriage, and has it take her home. Although she only danced with the Prince for a short while, that little memory was beautiful enough to keep her warm for the rest of her life”

The figure of Cinderella is back at the manor, scrubbing the air below her clean, with a smile on her face.

“The stepmother and stepsisters return home, incensed that the Prince’s eye was caught by someone else. They don’t suspect for a moment the mystery princess was Cinderella. For she had nothing in her possession that beautiful – they had made sure of that”

The scene is now of the prince, staring at the glass slipper.

“Try as he might, Prince Theodore couldn’t forget about the mystery woman he danced with. He had to know who she was. He decided he would have every woman in the kingdom try on the glass slipper. He takes his Guard Captain, Ser Arryn, and rides out to find his true love”

The figure of the prince tries time and again, with girls of all shapes and sizes, to fit the slipper to one of them. All for nought.

“Eventually, he arrives at the home of the Vicomtessa, and her daughters eagerly try to make the glass slipper fit their feet. But the older sister’s feet are far too large, and she is too forceful. She breaks the slipper in half”

The older sister looks on in horror as the broken glass slipper lies in her hands. The Prince sinks to his knees, devastated that he’ll never find his true love now”

But the figure of Cinderella appears in the scene a moment later, smiling brightly.

“’Fear not your highness’ she says, ‘For I have its twin’” Madeleina waves her hand and has the figure of Cinderella pull out the other glass slipper. The Prince gently takes it in his hand, drops to one knee, and places it on her foot. A perfect fit.

The two share an embrace.

“Cinderella and the Prince are married. And they lived happily ever after”

Stab. The sisters? Spite asks.

When he doesn’t react to the ending of her story, Madeleina blinks and waves a hand in front of his face.

“Lucanis?”

He shakes his head and comes to. Lucanis grins sheepishly, “Spite wants to know if anyone stabs the stepsisters”

Madeleina makes a face and chuckles, “No Spite. There’s no stabbing in this story”

Not fair. Want to stab.

“What does happen to the stepmother and stepsisters?” He asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah, good question. There’s a few different variations but the most common one seems to be that they are relegated to working as servants when they lose their own fortune”

“I would’ve poisoned them” He adds, with a satisfied grin.

Madeleina laughs, “Well, when you tell the story, you can add that in”

They share a smile and settle back into silence for a few moments. He watches her blink in and out of consciousness. She’s rocking back and forth unsteadily. Lucanis reaches an arm behind her back – not quite touching her.

“Madeleina?”

“Mmm?” Her vision is bleary and unfocused. She’s facing him, but not looking at him.

“Mierda” He whispers. He knew he shouldn’t have let this go on.

She falls face forward against his right shoulder, unconscious. He would be concerned, if not for her gentle, steady breathing. Nothing dangerous, evidently. Just in dire need of some sleep.

A flush creeps on the back of his neck and his ears.

Her head is resting against his shoulder. The rest of her body is practically limp. Lucanis’ heart is pounding in his chest. So loud he can practically hear the frantic pace.

Quiet snores fill the air. He doesn’t know what to do. He keeps his hands laced together, almost afraid they’ll fly away from him if he doesn’t. To her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

To his surprise, relief, and horror, Andarateia Cantori comes sauntering down the hallway and spies the pair in that compromising position.

Mercifully, she doesn’t say anything but gives him a knowing look that he doesn’t like. He can’t find the strength to meet her warm, brown eyes.

Teia turns to Madeleina and gently nudges her awake.

“Come cariña, I’ll show you to your room for the night, hmm?” She whispers to the woman on his shoulder. Madeleina blinks a few times and rubs her eyes, parting from his shoulder. She’s so tired she doesn’t even realize what’s transpired or where she���s been sleeping. She takes Teia’s hand and lets the elf pull her to a standing position. She’s wobbly, but Teia steadies her with a hand on her back.

The two women start making their way down the hallway, leaving Lucanis alone with his thoughts.

That is, before he sees Viago trail after them.

The other Talon stops to give him a look.

“Shut up Viago” Lucanis mutters, pushing himself by his thighs to stand.

“I didn’t say anything” He replies cooly, but the slight quirk in his lips says more than enough.

“Mierda…”

[wolfeyedwitch]

I give them points for figuring out danny is the clean-up crew rather than any kind of doom-bringer. And wanting to talk to him is an admirable goal.

But COME ON. Knocking him out??? Yeah. That's gonna go GREAT.

Short DPXDC Prompts #580

Connor’s hearing picks up something hitting the ground very big and very fast a few hundred miles away. He expected to see maybe a bit of space debris or a meteor or something… not a teenager in a hazmat suit directly in the center of a 30ft wide crater.

[gay-artificer]

Sorry I intended to keep about 400 miles from this discourse but what do you fucking mean that people heard the guy who made fake screenshots against an artist justify it using "Oh its to show that callout culture is bad and that you people were too quick to believe them." and just went yeah that sounds right you have a good point callouts are bad but youre just showing that we support what youre doing actually Really just proves to me that at best the average person who never shuts the fuck up about "cancel culture" is either a remarkable idiot or a massive hypocrite provided you say the right cue words at them

[zialinart]

I missed inktober 2023 entirely ?????? Like wtf where was I ??? (no i know i was in a pit of despair somewhere in limbo)

Anyway Im gonna try to do the rest of 2022 and then 2024 for the 1srt of october and THEN 2023

[apocamarchive]

Apocamarc lore part 8: Marc and Apocalypse’s parallels

This one’s big, and also the current last lore drop for now! Enjoy :-)

Expanding on previous convo on sleep:

And to wrap up thoughts here on general stuff and scale difference, since we didn’t quite have an ending:

Both Marc and Apocalypse have been raised to believe in their own overinflated or under inflated worth. Apocalypse was groomed to be a weapon and a conqueror and set on that path, divorced from his humanity and ability to see human life as worthwhile and able to be connected to because he was put on a pedestal so far above them his set of morals changed. There was no reason for him not to believe himself a god in the same way of any other in myth, the ones that cause mass destruction and plagues and floods and set off wars because it is their choice and will to. And as a result he nearly achieved that. But he didn’t. And now he has to reckon with never being a god at all, but a dehumanized and grandiose human mutant set up for power before he could be understood. His belief in betterment and in his choices being right almost caused mass destruction on a global scale.

Marc, on the other hand, is the same and opposite. He was taught to believe his worth did not matter, that he caused problems to those close to him and was not deserving of care. As a result he is set on a path for manipulation. He joins the army, then becomes a mercenary, and then Moon Knight, each time being an extension of someone else’s will, used as a tool in a personal crusade of political power, money, or revenge. And he wreaks havoc on small targets and his personal life in the process. He destabilizes groups, places, crime rings. He cuts people off, ghosts people, isolates himself. And it is because he believes himself to be so harmful that he should never be touched and as such builds a web of distrust and violence around him. He thinks he can do everything alone and that he has to, that he is the only one capable and bringing anyone else in would only hurt them, so he has to be the only party responsible, even though that’s never been the case, not with his friends or his headmates or anyone. His price of protection and doing what he believes is the cost of himself and his own relationships and morals. But he is painfully aware of that connection throughout.

Neither of them are right, but both intensely skewed world views stem from a similar yet opposite place of origin: from believing that worldview to be wholly correct, that it can do no wrong, and that actions taken for it are justified. There is a strange understanding in the middle. One that requires unearthing pain, shifting the view of the self drastically, and understanding that at the center, both of them are inescapably human. Something that, in many ways, is an idea they have to reckon with.

(IDs in ALT for all)

It will all be discussion n hcs and creative content from here until new convos happen! Feel free to send anything in, tag this account in any posts, whatever ;-D

[mosnet]

that post about eggs and anti-intellectualism makes me mad because if op made it about politics it could be a more potent analogy i think, but people don't know how to cook eggs because of a "lack of curiosity" or laziness that's just repackaging ableism again. sometimes people are just cognitively disabled and can't learn vital life skills thru googling them

[solaaresque]

day 874392857 of ??? where i am so fucking tired of this house and the people inside it that killing myself is looking better and better each day :/

[houndsofbalthazar]

Some of my extremely haterly opinions in the tags.

now its time to bring the haterism

if you think multiple are bad vote for the one you hate the most <3

[radiaking]

Rip to anyone that got to meet coop pre-war who has to deal with the ghoul at his worst tbh…..

[021894s]

TANGLED DESIRES- p.sh

PAIRING: enemy!sunghoon x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: At a prestigious private school, you and Park Sunghoon are locked in a constant rivalry. During a party at your friend Karina’s, a heated argument between you two escalates into an unexpected, passionate encounter. The next morning, you wake up in his arms, forcing both of you to confront the new, complicated tension between you. As you navigate the fallout and shifting feelings, you start to question if your biggest enemy might actually be something much more.

GENRE: enemies to lovers, rich kids au

WARNINGS: smut (unprotected sex, oral sex) rivalry, hurt feelings, angst. ALL ARE OF AGE

wc: 15.4k

You attend the most prestigious school in Korea, where the sky-high tuition fees are only accessible to those born into pure wealth. This elite institution is a playground for the richest families, and your name is synonymous with success. Your family, being the owners of one of Korea’s top corporations, you seem to have everything at your fingertips—a glamorous life of luxury, an enviable social circle, and endless opportunities.

To the outside world, you’re the quintessential rich girl: impeccably stylish, effortlessly popular, and seemingly flawless. Yet beneath this polished veneer lies a different reality. Despite your privileged upbringing, you’re kind-hearted, fiercely intelligent, and deeply dedicated to everything you do. Your friend group, including Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunoo, Niki, Jungwon, Yuna, and Karina, forms a close-knit circle that navigates the pressures of their world together.

But there’s always been one glaring exception: Park Sunghoon. The feud between the two of you is infamous, an unspoken tension that pulses beneath the surface of your otherwise harmonious friendships. No one really knows how it started, and no one seems to care enough to unravel it. Instead, everyone just tolerates your constant bickering.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch table is alive with conversation, the usual chatter amplified by the excitement of the latest gossip. Karina sits comfortably beside Heeseung, leaning into him with an easy confidence that only she can pull off. She’s in the middle of talking about her parents’ latest venture—something about opening another resort somewhere exotic—when she casually drops the bomb.

“So, they’re gone for the whole weekend,” she says, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “And you know what that means…”

Jake perks up immediately, his eyes bright. “Party?”

Karina grins. “Obviously. Saturday night, my place. No theme this time, just show up and bring your best energy.”

Yuna claps her hands in excitement. “Finally! It’s been forever since the last one. I was starting to forget what a real party looks like.”

Jay laughs. “As if you’d ever forget. You practically live for these things.”

Yuna sticks her tongue out at him, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Guilty as charged.”

Heeseung wraps an arm around Karina’s shoulders, looking amused. “You’re not worried about your parents finding out?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, they won’t even notice. And even if they do, what’s the worst that could happen? They’ll just buy me something to make up for being gone.”

“Must be nice,” Niki mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Sunoo nudges him with a grin. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you’re not excited. You were the first one to ask about the music last time.”

Niki shrugs, but he can’t hide his smile. “Yeah, well, only if it’s not Sunghoon’s terrible playlist again.”

You glance across the table, catching Sunghoon’s eye. He’s lounging back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “My playlist was fine, thank you very much,” he retorts. “It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

You snort. “Please, Sunghoon, your taste in music is as bad as your taste in everything else.”

He looks over at you, eyebrow raised. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing, just that your definition of ‘good’ is highly questionable.”

He chuckles, the sound low and irritatingly smug. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Karina cuts in, sensing the rising tension. “Alright, let’s not turn this into another one of your little spats. Save it for the party, okay?”

Sunghoon smirks, still looking at you. “Looking forward to it already.”

You roll your eyes but can’t resist shooting back, “Don’t get too excited, I might just ignore you all night.”

“Oh, the horror,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock terror. “How will I ever survive?”

Jay laughs, nudging Jake. “You know, one day they might actually get along.”

Jake shakes his head, grinning. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Karina steers the conversation back to the party details, running through a list of essentials while Heeseung nods along, offering suggestions. “Invite whoever you want,” she says, “oh except luci, last time I caught her giving mark head in my parents bedroom, I haven’t been able to go in there since.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, trying not to notice how Sunghoon is still watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder what’s going through his head, but then you push the thought away. Whatever it is, it’s probably nothing you need to worry about.

Karina claps her hands, bringing the attention back to her. “So, everyone’s in?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and the table erupts into a mix of laughter and excited chatter as plans start to form. You glance over at Sunghoon one more time, catching his eye for a brief second before looking away. This party is already shaping up to be interesting… and you have a feeling that’s an understatement.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch buzz still lingers in your ears as the group makes its way back across the pristine campus grounds. The sunlight reflects off the sleek, modern architecture of the school’s main building, and you can’t help but admire the way everything here seems to sparkle—like even the bricks and mortar are aware of the school's prestige.

You find yourself walking beside Karina, who’s still chatting excitedly about the party, while Heeseung stays close, throwing in a comment or two. Yuna and Sunoo are a few steps ahead, their heads bent together as they giggle over something on Sunoo’s phone. You catch Jake and Jay trailing behind, still debating something about sports cars or the best summer destinations.

Just as you’re about to reach the entrance, you feel a presence beside you. You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is; Sunghoon always manages to sidle up to you when you least expect it.

“What, are you following me now?” you ask, not breaking your stride.

He chuckles. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. It just so happens our lockers are in the same direction.”

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t go out of your way to annoy me.”

He glances at you, smirk still firmly in place. “Maybe I just like seeing you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can fire back a retort, the group reaches the main hallway. The chatter from the student body fills the air, a mix of excitement and post-lunch drowsiness. The smell of expensive cologne and designer perfumes lingers in the air, an unmistakable signature of the school’s elite.

Karina stops at her locker, Heeseung leaning against it with a casual arm draped over her shoulder. She turns to you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, you’re coming early on Saturday, right? I need a hand setting things up.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction from Sunghoon. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great!” She beams. “And maybe you can help me make sure everything stays under control. You know how things can get with this crowd.”

Heeseung laughs softly. “Good luck with that. I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to keep Sunoo and Niki under control for more than five minutes.”

As if on cue, Sunoo pops up beside you with a grin. “I heard that, Heeseung! I’m an angel, thank you very much.”

Niki appears at his side, raising an eyebrow. “An angel of chaos, maybe.”

The group laughs, and you feel the tension in your shoulders ease. It’s moments like these that make all the bickering and drama feel worth it.

But then, just as you’re about to make another comment, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the noise. “So, Y/N,” he says casually, “what are you going to wear to the party? Let me guess… something that screams ‘trying too hard’?”

You whip your head around, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what are you planning on wearing, Sunghoon? Something that screams ‘I own everything but a personality’?”

There’s a collective gasp from your friends, followed by a chorus of laughter. Sunghoon raises his eyebrows, feigning a look of hurt. “Ouch, that one actually stung a little. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You cross your arms, feeling a triumphant smile tug at your lips. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Try me.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe I will,” he says, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get under my skin.”

You’re about to retort when a voice interrupts. “Can we get through one day without you two turning everything into a competition?” Jay sighs, looking exasperated. “Seriously, it’s exhausting just watching you.”

Jake nods in agreement, though he’s grinning. “You guys need to find a new hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t involve verbal sparring in the middle of the hallway.”

You shrug, unable to resist the urge to keep poking at Sunghoon. “I’m open to suggestions, but I doubt Sunghoon has any better ideas.”

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smile. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. But I think you’d be too scared to try them.”

Before you can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Karina groans. “Ugh, saved by the bell. I guess we’ll have to pick this up later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As everyone starts to disperse to their respective classes, Sunghoon gives you one last look, a challenge in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. You can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s planning… and why a part of you is actually looking forward to finding out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The day of the party arrives with a crisp, clear sky and a hint of excitement that seems to permeate every corner of the city. You wake up early, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Karina had texted you the night before, reminding you to come over in the afternoon to help set up for the party. You agreed eagerly, knowing that any opportunity to help would give you something to focus on and take your mind off the strange tension building between you and Sunghoon.

When you arrive at Karina’s mansion, the house is buzzing with activity. Karina’s housekeeper greets you at the door with a warm smile, directing you to the large, open-plan living area where Karina is already busy coordinating the decorations with a small army of helpers. The space is being transformed into a glamorous party venue with twinkling lights, elegant table settings, and a dance floor that looks like it’s straight out of a high-end club.

Karina spots you as soon as you walk in, her face lighting up with relief and excitement. “Y/N! Perfect timing. I’m so glad you’re here. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

You smile, rolling up your sleeves. “What can I do to help?”

Karina hands you a stack of neatly folded napkins and points towards a table covered with party favors. “Start by setting these up on the tables. I want everything to look perfect tonight.”

You get to work, organizing napkins and arranging snack trays, chatting with Karina about the last-minute details. The hours fly by as you work alongside her, the room gradually coming together into a setting that is unmistakably Karina’s style—classy, sophisticated, and just a bit over the top.

As the afternoon drifts into evening, Karina claps her hands and gathers you for a brief break. “Alright, it’s time for a quick change. You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to look as fabulous as the rest of the evening.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-teasing. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Karina waves her hand dismissively. “you don’t want me to answer that. cmon you’re hot, why not show off a little?”

Before you can protest, Karina ushers you into her bedroom and pulls out a sleek, little black dress from her closet. The dress is short and simple with a cut that accentuates your figure without being too revealing.

“Put this on,” Karina insists, handing you the dress. “Trust me, you’ll look amazing. And don’t worry about the hair and makeup; I’ve got that covered too.”

You change quickly, admiring the way the dress fits and the way it makes you feel more confident and glamorous. When you step out of the room, Karina is waiting with a professional-looking makeup kit and a few hair tools.

As she works on your hair and makeup, she chatters away, filling the room with her usual upbeat energy. “you look sexy”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, Karina. You don’t think it’s a bit much? It’s definitely more out there than I usually go for”.

Karina beams, finishing up with a final touch of lipstick. “babe there’s no such thing as too much. And who knows, maybe you’ll catch someone eye tonight,” she tells you with a wink.

With a laugh and a final look at yourself in the mirror, you feel a surge of excitement. The dress feels perfect, and the makeup and hair make you look polished and ready for the night. As you head back downstairs, you catch sight of Karina’s smile of approval, and you can’t help but feel a bit more confident about the evening ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The music starts pumping through the walls as you and Karina make your way back downstairs. The final touches have been set, and the room looks like a scene straight out of a teen movie: fairy lights strung up in every corner, a couple of disco balls catching the light just right, and a dance floor that practically begs people to let loose. Karina surveys everything with a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“See?” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “This is why I always go all out.”

You chuckle, glancing around. “Okay, okay, you were right. This does look kind of amazing.”

The doorbell rings, and Karina practically bounces on her toes. “That must be the first guests! Come on, we have to greet everyone in style.”

The two of you rush to the front door, and soon enough, your friends start streaming in. Sunoo is the first to arrive, with Niki and Jungwon right behind him. They all look ready to have the best night ever, and Sunoo immediately zeroes in on you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Sunoo exclaims dramatically, clutching his chest. “Look at you in that little black dress! Who is she?!”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin. “Alright, Sunoo, calm down. It’s just a dress.”

“It’s not just a dress,” Niki interjects with a grin. “It’s the dress. Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

Jungwon nudges Niki. “Yeah, spill. Is there someone you’re hoping to catch the eye of?”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Oh, please, like I’d tell you guys even if there was.”

More of your friends arrive, and soon the room is buzzing with chatter and laughter. Jake and Jay show up not long after, both of them effortlessly cool as always. Jay immediately gets to work DJ-ing from his phone, while Jake heads to the makeshift bar, already concocting a round of mixed drinks.

Then, just as you start to relax, you see him—Park Sunghoon. He steps in, looking annoyingly good in a casual black button-down and jeans. His eyes scan the room until they find you. For a split second, he looks almost surprised, but then his trademark smirk appears.

“Well, well,” Sunghoon says as he strolls over to you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Look who decided to play dress-up. You got a hot date tonight or something?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “Oh, please, Sunghoon. Unlike you, I don’t have to try so hard to impress everyone.”

Sunghoon chuckles, leaning in just slightly. “Right. Because you just show up looking like that for fun?”

Before you can shoot back a retort, Karina swoops in, looping her arm through yours. “Hey, Sunghoon, quit being a troll. Y/N looks amazing, and you know it. Now go get a drink and try to be nice for once!”

He holds up his hands, his grin widening. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave... for now.”

You watch as he saunters off to join Jake at the bar, and Karina gives you a knowing look. “Don’t let him get under your skin tonight, okay?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, even though you’re still buzzing from his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party is in full swing now—music thumping, people laughing, and the lights twinkling overhead like stars. You find yourself swept up in the fun, moving from one conversation to the next, the earlier tension with Sunghoon momentarily forgotten. You’re by the snack table, popping a few chips into your mouth when Haechan sidles up next to you with his signature grin.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly, leaning in a little closer than necessary. “Looking good tonight. That dress is seriously working for you.”

You smile at him, amused by his blatant flirting. “Thanks, Haechan. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, playing along. He’s always been a harmless flirt, and you don’t mind the attention tonight.

He grins wider, clearly pleased. “I try. But seriously, I can’t believe I’m just now noticing how stunning you are. Were you hiding this whole time or just waiting for the perfect moment to make your grand entrance?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, you know me. Always dramatic,” you joke, and he chuckles, leaning in a bit more.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N. Makes me want to know you better,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, and you can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top delivery.

What you don’t notice is that from across the room, Sunghoon has been watching the entire interaction with a growing frown. He’s leaning against a wall, a drink in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches Haechan lean closer to you, flashing that charming smile. His jaw tightens, and his grip on the cup becomes visibly tighter.

Heeseung, who’s been standing beside him, follows his line of sight and notices the tense look on his friend’s face. A knowing grin spreads across Heeseung’s lips as he leans over to Sunghoon, nudging him with his elbow.

“Someone looks like they’ve got their feathers ruffled,” Heeseung teases, keeping his voice low so only Sunghoon can hear.

Sunghoon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Heeseung laughs. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at Haechan like you’re ready to knock that grin off his face.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away, but his eyes remain fixed on you and Haechan. Heeseung watches with amusement, clearly enjoying the show.

“Just admit it, man,” Heeseung continues, his tone light. “You’re jealous.”

Sunghoon finally looks away from you, giving Heeseung a dismissive look. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing him act like a fool.”

Heeseung snorts. “Right. Because you’re so worried about Haechan embarrassing himself.” He claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, just go talk to her. Or are you afraid she’ll turn you down?”

Sunghoon shoots him a glare. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

Heeseung just laughs harder, clearly unbothered by Sunghoon’s mood. “Alright, whatever you say. But just so you know, glaring at Haechan isn’t going to do anything except make you look more obvious.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer, but Heeseung’s words seem to hit a nerve. He turns his attention back to you, his expression unreadable, though there’s still a flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just casual interest.

Meanwhile, you’re still chatting with Haechan, completely unaware of the little drama unfolding across the room. But you can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching you, and when you finally glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s for just a second. He quickly looks away, and you can’t help but wonder what that was all about.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party continues to buzz around you, but after a while, the noise and energy start to feel a bit overwhelming. You decide you need a break, a moment to yourself away from the chaos. Without saying anything, you slip out of the crowded living room and head toward the balcony, where the air is cooler and the music is just a muffled hum in the background.

You push open the glass doors and step outside, letting the crisp night air hit your face. It’s a welcome change from the warmth inside. You lean against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The stars are faint above the city lights, and you can hear distant sounds of traffic, a reminder of the world continuing outside this little bubble of a party.

You close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. But then, you hear the soft sound of footsteps behind you. You turn, half-expecting to see Karina or maybe Sunoo, but your heart skips a beat when you see Sunghoon stepping out onto the balcony.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” you sigh, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“I could ask you the same thing” he replies, his voice closer than you expected. You feel the warmth of his body behind you, jus inches away. “Running away from the party?”

”Hardly.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “Just needed a break from all the fakes and liars inside.”

His lips curl into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “And here I thought you thrived on that type of thing. Who knew Y/N had limits?”

You roll tour eyes, turning back to the view. “Yeah, well, believe it or not I do. But you wouldn’t know anything, would you?”

Sunghoon steps closer, his breath brushing against your ear, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks and something else you refuse to acknowledge. “You don’t know anything about me, Sunghoon. And id keep it that way if I were you.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes your skin prickle. “I think you like it when I get under your skin. Why else do you always react like this?” You scoff, turning to face him, only then realizing how close he actually was. “Maybe i’m just tired of you acting like you’re gods gift to the world. newsflash: you’re not.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, invading you’re space entirely as if he wasn’t already to begin with. “Admit it.” he says, his voice dropping lower. “You like our little games. You like the way I push your buttons.”

Your heart is pounding now, and you hate that he’s right, that there’s something about him that gets to you in a way no one else does.But you refuse to five him the satisfaction of knowing it. “In your dreams,” you snap, though the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm, and you feel a jolt of heat at the contact. “Is that so?” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to yours now, his eyes dark with challenge. “Because I think you’re lying. I think you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re frozen, caught in his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes your pulse race, a mix of anger and undeniable attraction. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his shirt, pulling him the last few inches towards you.

“Maybe I just want to shut you up,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then do it,” he taunts, his lips brushing against yours, almost but not quite a kiss. It’s all the encouragement you need. You close the distance, your mouth crashing against his. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you press against him, fueled by a mix of anger and desire.

The kiss is intense, a battle of wills as much as it is anything else. His lips are firm, demanding, and you meet him with equal force, neither of you willing to give an inch. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging slightly and he groans against your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You’re lost in it. Lost in him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. His hands slide up your back, his touch sending sparks through you, and you hate how much you crave it, hate how much you want him despite everything.

You’re breathless when you finally pull back, your heart hammering against your ribs. Sunghoon’s lips are parted, his breaths coming in ragged, and his eyes are dark with something dangerous—something you know you shouldn’t be entertaining.

His hand is still on your waist, his thumb brushing the exposed skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, and you swear every nerve in your body is on fire. He leans in close, his lips grazing your ear, and his voice comes out in a low, almost pleading murmur. “Come back to my place.”

It isn’t a question, but there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine, a combination of hunger and desperation that mirrors what’s coursing through your veins. For a moment, you’re tempted—so, so tempted to just say yes and give in to whatever this is. But logic fights its way to the surface, and you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Are you serious?” you ask, your voice wavering more than you’d like.

His expression doesn’t falter, his eyes locked onto yours. “Dead serious.” He swallows, his grip on your waist tightening, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t want this to end here.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. This is Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—the guy you’ve spent so long arguing with, glaring at across rooms, doing everything in your power to avoid. But there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now, something raw and real that makes it hard to think clearly.

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to sound firm, though your resolve is crumbling by the second. “I mean… this is crazy.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, his voice still low, still laced with that edge of desperation. “But I think you like crazy.” His lips curl into a half-smile, that familiar cockiness tempered with something else, something softer.

You bite your lip, weighing your options, feeling the tension between you both—hot, magnetic, impossible to ignore. “This is a bad idea,” you whisper, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your words.

Sunghoon steps closer, closing the distance again, his forehead almost touching yours. “Probably the worst,” he says, his breath hot against your skin. “But if you don’t say yes, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You can feel his heartbeat through his shirt, can feel how fast it’s racing, and you know he means it. Part of you is screaming to walk away, to leave now before you make a mistake, but there’s another part—a louder, more reckless part—that’s screaming for you to stay, to see where this goes.

“Just one night,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours again, barely a kiss, just enough to make you shiver. “No strings, no expectations. Just… us.”

You close your eyes, fighting against every instinct telling you to run. But when you open them again, his gaze is still locked onto yours, and you can’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your skin tingles with every touch.

“Fine,” you breathe, barely louder than a whisper. “One night.”

His grin is immediate, but there’s relief in it too, and he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours again, this time harder, more insistent. “Let’s get out of here,” he says against your mouth, his hand sliding to intertwine with yours, and you know there’s no going back now.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You manage to sneak past your friends to leave Karina’s mansion, the partygoers and scattered distractions making it all that more simple.

The drive is quiet, both of you caught in your own thoughts. The city passes by in a blur of neon signs and headlights, the streets quieter than they were earlier. You steal a glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the wheel like he’s counting down the seconds.

Sunghoon pulls up to his mansion, its sprawling, modern architecture framed by towering trees and high walls that ensure absolute privacy. The wide driveway curves up to the grand entrance, where soft lights cast a warm glow over the marble steps and tall double doors. You glance around, taking in the sheer size of the place—not because it surprises you, but because you’ve never been here before.

Your own family’s estate is nothing to scoff at, but there’s a distinct style to his home—something sleek and almost understated, despite its size. You tilt your head slightly, noticing the details: the way the garden is meticulously maintained, the sharp lines of the building softened by the greenery that surrounds it. It’s impressive, in a way that’s different from what you’re used to.

He takes your hand to lead you inside, you follow him down the dimly lit corridor, decorated with family pictures and modern art that costs a fortune. He pauses at his bedroom door, his hand still holding yours, and turns to look at you one more time. “Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, though his thumb strokes the back of your hand, a comforting gesture.

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. “I’m not changing my mind.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Good,” he whispers, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

You step inside, and he follows, closing the door behind you. The space is dimly lit, warm, and there’s an unexpected coziness to it—minimalistic but comfortable. The air feels thick with everything unspoken between you.

Sunghoon turns to you, his gaze intense, and he steps closer, his hand moving up to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a growl.

Your breath catches, and you feel the heat rush to your face. “Then stop talking,” you murmur, your own voice breathless.

His lips are on yours in an instant, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all-consuming, filled with all the tension, the want, the frustration that’s been building for so long. You kiss him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding beneath your palms.

Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, squeezing your tits. You let out a small involuntary moan, a grunt leaving him immediately after. His lips move down to your next, trailing up and down before reaching that sweet spot right behind your ear.

It all feels to fucking good, your panties sticking to your core. He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you into his lap before catching your lips once again. His growing hardness is poking at you. “You look so fucking sexy in this little dress,” He tells you in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing, the ache between your legs growing. You start grinding on him, his hands grabbing your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding against his clothed length. “That’s it baby, grind on me, keep rubbing that pretty pussy over my cock.”

Your head is thrown back, lip in between your teeth, his words encouraging your quickening movements. “Need you so bad, Hoon,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah baby? tell me what you need.” He tells you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you wanted him. “Need your cock.” Without another word you feel his hands back on your ass, lifting you up and throwing you down on his bed. He looks up at you with mischievious eyes, hovering over you as his hands roam down the sides of your thighs to them hem of your dress. “Can i take this off?” he asks, caressing the soft, exposed skin there.

Eagerly, you nod quickly, reaching for the hem to help him pull it up and over your head. Luckily you opted for a pair of black lacy panties and opposed to your more comfortable ones. He audibly sighs and your exposed figure, “You’re so beautiful,” He tells you, his fingers working to slide your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side, revealing just how much you wanted him.

“Shit baby you’re so wet.” He leans down, placing soft, wet kisses just below your navel, dangerously close to where you wanted him most. “Hoon please,” you murmur out. He straightens out, unbuckling his belt to pull down his pants and boxers all in one go. While he wasn’t remarkably long, he made up for it in girth. You lick your lips at the sight, anticipation and heat pooling.

He pumps himself a couple times before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He takes his time, making sure to smear your slick between your clit and his length. You feel his tip parting your folds, your breath hitching in your throat. “You ready?” his eyes meet yours for assurance. No words come out your mouth, all you do is nod.

He enters you carefully, a strong contrast from his words earlier in the night. The last thing he wants is to rush, just because of how unpatient and horny he is. You close your eyes, holding in the gasp that threatens to escape your lips. “Relax baby, I got you.”

“I know,” you breathe out. The sudden stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The burn quickly turning into a delicious one. “That’s it,” he praises you continuing to slide in until he’s nestled completely between your walls. “You take me so well,” he grunts, his length twitching inside of you.

“Fuck me, Hoon” you murmur, your walls clench around him, throwing his head back at the feeling. Before you know it he’s pulling out of you, only to smack his hips back against yours. It knocks all the oxygen out your lungs, leaving you breathless as he repeats the same action over and over again. “Fuck,” you breathe out, focusing on how good he looks above you.

You’re in a complete feeling of euphoria. Sunghoon’s skills topping those of the few guys you’ve slept with before. In that moment, all the bickering and years of back and forth leave your mind completely. The only thing closing your mind is how good him of all people is making you feel.

“Hoon… faster,” you let out, his hips snapping in a faster pace on command. Your back arches off the bed, hands grasping the sheets in small fists. He notices and reaches for them to thread his fingers through yours, pinning them above your head. “You like that baby? love how good you feel… fuck you’re so tight. Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“I’m so c-close, fuck,” you breathe out. His thrusts become messier and you know he’s close. “Cum on my cock pretty,” he grunts, hands letting go of yours to grip your hips. Clenching around him, it takes a few for pumps before you’re both coming undone. His cock twitching inside you as he fucks his cum into you.

He drops his sweaty forehead against your shoulder, quick, deep breaths meeting your skin and he comes down from his high. It takes you both a while before your breathing steadys. “You good?,” he asks you, settling on the bed beside you. “mhm,” is all you say in response, unsure as to where this leaves your relationship. It all felt to good to ignore. “Are you good?” you ask him after a moment of silence. “Better than I have in a long time.”

You’re not sure when you fall asleep. The exhaustion taking over you all at once.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The morning light filters softly through the heavy curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You wake to the sound of birds chirping outside, their songs a peaceful contrast to the intensity of the night before. The bed is warm, and you’re nestled comfortably under the covers, Sunghoon’s arm draped over you.

You shift slightly, the movement causing Sunghoon to stir beside you. He mumbles something incoherent, tightening his hold on you before settling back into a deeper sleep. You take a moment to just lie there, letting yourself absorb the strange, surreal comfort of the situation. There’s an odd serenity in the room, a calm that feels almost unreal given the whirlwind of emotions that led you here.

As you slowly become more aware, you gently untangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him. You sit up and stretch, glancing around at the elegant room that’s now your temporary sanctuary. The soft morning light highlights the sleek lines and modern decor, giving the space an almost ethereal quality.

You slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious but determined to gather yourself. You glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to process the whirlwind of the past night. The evidence of sleep lingers in your eyes, and you smooth your hair, mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

When you return to the bedroom, Sunghoon is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You take a moment to just watch him, the vulnerability in his expression softened by sleep. There’s a part of you that feels a pang of something—softness, maybe even affection—though you’re still trying to fully understand what it all means.

Deciding not to linger too long, you quietly gather your things and start to get dressed. You’re pulling on your clothes when you hear a rustling behind you. You turn to find Sunghoon blinking awake, his gaze immediately locking on you with a sleepy, yet intense look.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the previous night's intensity. “Morning. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He stretches lazily, a smirk forming on his lips. “And here I was thinking you’d sneak out before I even woke up. Not very considerate of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to tiptoe around your mansion.”

He chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, well, you should be lucky you’re not being kicked out for your unexpected visit.”

You roll your eyes, pulling on your shirt. “Oh, please. It’s not like I forced my way in. You made it pretty clear you wanted me here.”

His smirk widens. “True. And now I’m faced with the charming aftermath of our little escapade. How do you intend to handle that?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “I think we both know this doesn’t exactly change things. We still don’t like each other. This was… a one-off.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A one-off? That’s what we’re calling it now? What happened to all that intense ‘hate’ from last night?”

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a bit defensive. “It’s complicated. We both know that. I’m just here to sort myself out.”

He stands up, stretching with a yawn. “Well, I suppose if you’re done with the morning-after drama, I should at least make you breakfast.”

You look at him skeptically. “Breakfast? You’re really pulling out the stops now?”

He gives you a mockingly hurt look. “Don’t sound so surprised. Even enemies deserve to be fed after a night like that.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Fine. Breakfast it is. But don’t think this means I’m sticking around for a whole lot of chit-chat.”

He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just a quick meal and then you can be on your way.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, trading barbs and jabs that feel almost comfortable in their own way. The awkwardness of the night before is still there, but it’s tempered by the humor and banter that defines your relationship.

In the kitchen, Sunghoon starts pulling out ingredients, his movements confident and efficient. You watch him, feeling a strange mix of irritation and appreciation. Despite everything, there’s something almost endearing about the way he’s trying to play the gracious host.

“So, what’s the plan after breakfast?” you ask, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it. “Are we going to pretend like nothing happened, or do you have some other grand gesture in mind?”

He looks over at you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just enjoy the novelty of seeing you eat my food. Consider it a small victory.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a genuine smile on your lips. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m not here for long.”

He chuckles, placing a plate of food in front of you. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you leave right after. I’m sure we’ll find new ways to annoy each other soon enough.”

You take a bite of the breakfast, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you eat, the tension from the night before begins to ease, replaced by the familiar dynamic of your interactions. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s familiar—a small reminder that despite everything, some things never really change.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you gather your things and stand up, eager to leave the classroom and escape the strange tension that’s been hanging between you and Sunghoon all day. You’re heading toward the door when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find Sunghoon standing close, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Sunghoon leans in, his face just inches from yours. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his proximity even though you try to back away slightly. “You look cute today,” he whispers, his voice low and deliberately teasing.

You freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as his words sink in. You’re taken aback by the unexpected comment, feeling a rush of irritation mixed with something you can’t quite define. You quickly compose yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice low so that no one else hears. “Now you’re trying to play nice? How pathetic.”

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just making an observation,” he says innocently, though the amusement in his eyes betrays him.

You roll your eyes, your frustration evident. “Yeah, well, save it for someone who actually cares. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

As you turn and walk toward the door, you hear Sunghoon’s laughter behind you, light and mocking. You try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you make your way out of the classroom, determined not to let him get under your skin. Despite your efforts to stay composed, his words linger in your mind, adding to the awkwardness and confusion of the day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lunch at school is a lively affair, with the cafeteria buzzing with the chatter of students and the clatter of trays. You and your friends—Yuna, Karina, and the rest—settle into your usual spot at the table. Sunghoon and his group are seated across from you, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you, even as you try to focus on the conversation with your friends.

Karina is mid-sentence, animatedly discussing the latest school gossip when Sunghoon's voice cuts through. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't actually believe that nonsense.”

You glance up, catching Sunghoon’s eyes. He’s smirking, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke at you. “And what’s so ridiculous about it?” you retort, trying to keep your voice steady despite the irritation brewing inside you.

“Seriously?” Sunghoon’s grin widens. “It’s just a bunch of exaggerated stories. You’ve always had a knack for falling for that kind of thing.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a familiar annoyance bubbling up. “Says the guy who’s always spouting off about how everything’s ‘not worth his time.’”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “At least I don’t get caught up in every little bit of drama that comes my way.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’m not the one who spends half his day looking for ways to pick fights. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with making everything a competition, you’d see things more clearly.”

Yuna and Karina exchange glances, trying to stifle their laughter as the two of you go back and forth. Karina nudges you playfully. “Looks like you two are back to your old routine.”

You shoot her a sidelong glance, annoyed but unable to hide a small smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his smirk never fading. Every time you catch him looking, you feel a mix of frustration and unease. His gaze is unrelenting, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“What are you staring at?” you snap, catching him in the act.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression innocent. “Just observing. Is that a problem?”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “Maybe if you had something better to do than harass me, you wouldn’t have to be so nosy.”

He chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You glare at him, feeling your irritation spike. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a compliment.”

Sunghoon shrugs, still smirking. “Suit yourself.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After lunch, you head to your next class with a sense of relief, hoping to escape the tension of the cafeteria. As you settle into your seat, the classroom buzzes with the usual pre-class chatter. You glance around, hoping to avoid any more interactions with Sunghoon, but he’s in the same class, sitting a few rows behind you.

The teacher arrives, and the room quiets down as the lesson begins. You try to focus on the lecture, but the lingering effects of the lunchtime bickering keep your thoughts scattered. Every now and then, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you, though you avoid turning around to confirm it.

Halfway through the class, you feel a small piece of paper land softly on your desk. You glance down to find a note with neat handwriting:

*“Can we at least pretend to be civil? I promise I’m not plotting your demise.”*

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You scribble a quick reply:

“Why start now? It’s more fun to keep you on your toes.”

You fold the note and toss it back over your shoulder, hoping it will reach him without drawing too much attention. A few moments later, you see Sunghoon’s hand reach forward to grab it, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the class proceeds in a blur of lectures and notes. The occasional glances you and Sunghoon exchange are filled with unspoken tension, but you both manage to keep your interactions to a minimum.

At the end of your lecture, you pack up your things and make your way out of the classroom. You’re heading down the hall when you hear Sunghoon’s voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You stop, turning to see him catching up with you. He’s wearing a casual expression, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Seriously? What now?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you, and he seems to consider his next words carefully. “So, I was thinking… why don’t you come over to my place later?”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “For what? We already had our… whatever that was.”

Sunghoon gives you a knowing look, his smirk widening. “Come on, you know you’re curious. Besides, you know you want me.”

You feel a rush of heat at his words, and you try to maintain your composure. “And what happened to it being a one-night thing? Are you trying to make this a regular thing now?”

Sunghoon’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you. Either way, I think you’re interested.”

You hesitate, feeling the pull of his words. The desire that was ignited the night before is still burning strong, and you find yourself tempted despite your better judgment.

With a sigh, you give in, unable to resist the allure of what he’s offering. “Alright, fine. I’ll come over. But just to see what you have in mind.” Sunghoon’s smile broadens, clearly pleased with your decision. “Great. see you later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that night, you stand outside Sunghoon’s, house, or rather mansion. With a deep breath, you ring the doorbelll, and a moment later, Sunghoon opens the door. His eyes rake over you, and there’s that cocky familiar smirk on his face. “Youre here,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s no hint of surprise, just a kind of smug statisfaction, like he knew you’d come.

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping inside “so what’s this all about?” Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He just walks past you, heading into the foyer. You follow, your curiosity piqued, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker back to you with that same intent look. He turns around suddenly, before you can even process what’s happening, he’s closing the distance between you, leaning in like he’s about to kiss you.

“Woah wait,” you say quickly, pressing a hand against him firm chest to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sunghoon pauses, eyebrows raised, but there’s no real apology in his expression. “What do you think in doing?” he counters, his voice low, almost daring him to challenge you. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “I didn’t come here just to… you know.”

He smirks, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his breath. “Then why did you come here?”

You hesitate, caught between wanting to play it cool and the undeniable pull you feel toward him. “Maybe I was curious.” Sunghoon chuckles, “You’re here because you want this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your hip lightly, testing your boundaries.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

His smirk widens. “I know enough.” He leans in again, and this time, his lips brush against your neck, a bold move that sends a jolt of heat through you. You bite your lip, figuring the urge to melt into his touch. “I didn’t say you could—“

“Then stop me,” he challenges, his voice a whisper against your skin. Your mind races every logical thought battling against the desire that’s been simmering between you since the other night. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how is arrogance is both infuriating and strangely alluring. But instead of pushing him away, you find yourself lingering, testing the r limits just like he is.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, half annoyed, half breathless. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression smug but hungry. “Yet I don’t see you walking away.”

You hate that he’s right. Instead of anything else, you meet his gaze head on, feeling that dangerous spark between you flicker into something more. “Just shut up and kiss me,” you say, finally giving in, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. And he does—without hesitation, with the kind of intensity that makes your head spin. It’s heated, unrestrained, and nothing like you imagined, and yet somehow it’s exactly what you wanted.

With a frustrated sigh, you put a hand on his chest and push him back a step. “Okay, seriously, what is this?” you demand, trying to keep your tone steady. “We can’t just keep… doing this whenever we feel like it. It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking way too amused for your liking. “Why not? You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just… I don’t want this to get messy.”

He smirks, clearly entertained by your struggle. “Messy? You mean you don’t want people to know you like kissing me?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t like anything about you, Sunghoon. But if we’re being honest, there’s… something here, and I don’t see it going away anytime soon.”

His grin widens, and you want to slap it right off his face. “So, what? You’re proposing a deal?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. Friends with benefits. No strings attached, no drama, no catching feelings.”

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Friends? I don’t think we’re even close to that.”

“Fine,” you snap, annoyed that he’s right. “Enemies with benefits then. Just… an arrangement. To get this out of our systems.”

His gaze darkens, and for a second, you think you see something flicker there, something unreadable. But then he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

You raise your chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “Because you want this just as much as I do. Maybe more.”

He pauses, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he says, his voice low. “But here’s the deal: we do this my way. No whining, no complaining, and you definitely don’t get to pretend you don’t want it.”

You scowl, hating how cocky he looks, how certain he is that you’ll cave. “Fine,” you bite back. “But don’t think for a second that this means I like you.”

He laughs, the sound rich and mocking. “Trust me, I’d hate it if you did.”

You feel your blood boil at his arrogance, but there’s a thrill in it too, in the way you both seem to enjoy this game. “Deal,” you snap, holding out your hand.

He takes it, but instead of shaking, he pulls you in closer, his lips just inches from yours. “Just remember,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours, “this doesn’t change anything. I still can’t stand you.”

You smirk, matching his intensity. “Right back at you.”

And before you know it, his lips are crashing against yours again, and all that frustration and anger blurs into something reckless and wild. For now, you’ll play his game, but you know this is far from over.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, the “arrangement” with Sunghoon becomes a twisted game of secrecy and tension. You find yourself sneaking glances in class, meeting him in darkened hallways between periods, and exchanging heated looks across crowded lunch tables. The two of you are constantly dancing on the edge of discovery, and it’s becoming harder to hide the intensity simmering between you.

It starts small. The accidental brush of fingers when passing by in the hallway, the way his eyes linger a little too long when you’re speaking. But then, it escalates. The stolen moments between classes turn into late-night texts and spontaneous meetings wherever you can find some privacy. Empty classrooms, deserted stairwells, even the back of the library—places where no one would think to find the two of you together. The more time passes, the harder it gets to keep up the charade.

You’re starting to notice the way his friends glance between you two, confused by the sudden silences or the shared looks you forget to hide. Jay catches you one morning when you’re walking out of the library with Sunghoon following a few steps behind, your hair slightly mussed, your lips redder than usual.

“What’s going on there?” he asks, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You and Sunghoon plotting world domination or something?”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “Please. He’s too much of an idiot for that.”

But Jay looks unconvinced, his gaze flicking back to where Sunghoon is standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk that’s all too knowing. “Sure,” Jay says, dragging out the word like he’s not buying it.

At lunch, it’s even worse. Sunghoon sits across from you, his foot nudging yours under the table. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to send a jolt up your spine. You kick him back, hard, and he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair like he’s thoroughly enjoying the game.

“What are you two whispering about?” Yuna asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. You’re both quick to cover it up, but it’s obvious that your friends are starting to catch on.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, his voice annoyingly casual. “Just telling Y/N that she looks like she needs more sleep. Those dark circles are really showing.”

Your jaw clenches, but you force a sweet smile, playing along. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep just fine once I stop seeing your face every day.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something more heated in his eyes, something you recognize all too well. “Yeah, right.”

Karina frowns, sensing the tension that seems to hang in the air whenever you two are in the same room. “Seriously, what is up with you guys?” she asks, tilting her head.

You wave it off, laughing a little too loudly. “We’re just being our usual selves. You know how it is—can’t stand each other.”

But your friends are starting to notice the little things. The way Sunghoon’s gaze always seems to drift in your direction, the way you keep sneaking out of group study sessions with flimsy excuses, only to return looking flustered and breathless. Sunoo even catches you and Sunghoon exchanging hushed words in the corner of the hallway, too close for comfort, and he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Are you two planning a secret mission, or is there something else we should know?” he asks, his tone playful but probing.

Sunghoon just shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on you, daring you to say something. “No mission,” he replies coolly, “unless it’s trying to survive Y/N’s terrible attitude.”

You force a laugh, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “Yeah, well, some of us have better things to do than deal with you, Sunghoon.”

But it’s getting harder to pretend, harder to keep the fire between you from spilling over in front of everyone else. Every time he’s near, it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of you, a constant push and pull that’s impossible to ignore. The stolen kisses, the midnight texts, the moments of heated bickering that seem to blur into something more—it’s becoming too much to hide.

And it’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You grip the sheets of your bed, lip caught between your teeth as sunghoon is under your duvet, tonguing your wet entrance, heat pooling in your belly, felling the intensity of your orgasm creeping up on you.

It’s all cut short when your door bursts open without warning, and Karina barges in, her voice already raised. “Y/N, I swear I’m going to lose my mind—!”

You freeze, your heart stopping in your chest. “Karina!” you squeak, quickly yanking the sheets up to your chin. “What happened to knocking?”

Karina stops mid-rant, blinking at you. “Oh, come on, like I ever knock?” she scoffs, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Anyway, you will not believe what Heeseung just did—”

She’s moving closer to the bed, and you panic, shifting slightly to keep Sunghoon hidden beneath the covers. You can feel him tense up, and his hand slips to your thigh under the sheets, pinching you playfully. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, kneeing him as a warning.

Karina continues her rant, oblivious. “I mean, he had the nerve to ditch me for practice again, and I’m just—ugh, I needed to vent to someone who understands!”

Your mind races, desperately trying to keep her attention away from the suspicious lump between your legs. “That sounds… really frustrating,” you say, a bit too brightly. “But maybe just, you know, talk to him?”

Karina flops down on the edge of your bed, dangerously close to Sunghoon’s concealed figure. “Oh, I’ll talk to him, alright. I’m just so sick of his stupid excuses—”

Sunghoon’s fingers press into your clit under the sheets. He’s grinning, enjoying the situation far too much. You jab him again, your heart racing.

Karina glances at you, finally noticing your tense posture. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird,” she says, her brows furrowing.

You force a laugh, your voice too high. “I’m fine! Just… woke up. Didn’t expect you to burst in like that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you care if I burst in? And why are you so… red?”

You feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Uh, just… hot in here,” you stammer, shifting to keep Sunghoon completely out of sight.

Karina looks like she’s about to press further, but then she sighs, clearly more focused on her Heeseung drama. “Whatever, I just needed to get that off my chest. He drives me insane!”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I get it. He’s… Heeseung, you know?” Karina gives you a small smile, her frustration easing. “Thanks for listening. And seriously, you look so weird right now.”

You laugh nervously. “Yeah, just tired.”

Finally, she stands up, heading toward the door. “Alright, I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing. I’m gonna go call him and give him a piece of my mind.”

You nod eagerly. “Good luck with that!”

As soon as she leaves, you exhale in relief, lifting the cover to eye Sunghoon, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “What?” he whispers, amused.

“What?” you repeat, incredulous. “You almost got us caught, that’s what!”

He chuckles, pulling you back down under the sheets. “Relax. She didn’t notice a thing.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing from the close call. “You’re lucky,” you mutter.

Sunghoon just leans in closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You love the thrill,” he murmurs.

And damn it, you hate that he’s right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It's late, the night air cool against your skin as you lean against the wall outside the school building, waiting for Sunghoon. You don't even know why you agreed to meet him here. Maybe because he seemed so insistent, or maybe because a part of you wanted to see him, even though you’d never admit it.

He arrives moments later, his footsteps heavy as he approaches. There’s a different energy about him tonight—something serious, something intense. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He stops in front of you, a little too close, and you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“What’s this about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze boring into yours like he’s searching for something, something he can’t quite find. You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Sunghoon?” you prompt, your voice wavering just slightly.

He finally speaks, his tone lower than usual. “I’ve been thinking… about us,” he says, the words almost hesitant, like he’s testing them out.

You blink, caught off guard. “Us?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah, Y/N, us. You and me… whatever this is.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your face neutral. “I thought we agreed it’s nothing,” you reply, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrow, frustration flashing in his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what we said,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. You’ve never seen him like this—so open, so exposed. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you say carefully.

He takes a step closer, his expression more intense. “I’m saying that I’ve caught myself… thinking about you. A lot. When you’re not around, I’m wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with. I hate that it bothers me when I see you talking to other guys, and I can’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else.”

You feel a wave of panic rising in your chest. This is too much, too fast. You press your back harder against the wall as if trying to create more distance between you. “Sunghoon, this was never supposed to be serious,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and I tried to keep it that way. But every time I see you, every time we’re together… I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it.”

You shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. “You don’t mean that,” you insist, more to yourself than to him. “You’re just saying this because it’s… new or whatever. It’ll pass.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he moves even closer, leaving barely any space between you. “No, Y/N, it won’t. I’ve tried to stop feeling this way, but I can’t. And I know you feel something too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. “I don’t—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Stop lying,” he says firmly, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “You’re scared, I get it. But don’t pretend like this is all just a game to you.”

You feel a flash of anger, your defenses rising. “What if it is, Sunghoon? What if I don’t want anything more than what we already have?”

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Then I guess I’ve made a mistake,” he murmurs, taking a step back.

You feel a pang in your chest, a sharp, unexpected ache. “Sunghoon…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For a second, you want to reach out, to say something, anything, to make that look on his face go away. But the fear of letting your guard down, of admitting that he might be right, keeps you silent.

He takes another step back, his expression hardening. “I won’t bother you about it again,” he says, his voice cold. “Let’s just go back to pretending like none of this ever happened.”

You nod, though you feel a tightness in your throat. “Yeah, let’s do that,” you say quietly, even though your chest aches with a feeling you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon turns and walks away, and you’re left standing there, the cool night air biting at your skin. You watch him go, feeling something inside you break just a little, and you wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake too.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning at school, everything feels heavier. The halls are crowded, but it’s like there’s a spotlight following you, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows. You make your way to your locker, avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Sunghoon.

You don’t see him at first, but you feel him—his presence looming in the periphery. It’s like he’s everywhere, watching you, and it makes your skin prickle with nerves. You busy yourself with rearranging your textbooks, trying to calm the storm inside your head.

“Hey, Y/N,” Karina chirps, appearing beside you. Her usual bright smile is there, but her eyes are curious, searching your face. “Are you okay? You seemed a little… off yesterday.”

You force a smile, gripping your locker door tighter than necessary. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

She studies you for a second longer, then nods. “Well, you should have come to dinner with us last night. It was a total mess, as always, but fun.”

You nod absently, not really listening. Your eyes flick over Karina’s shoulder and catch Sunghoon’s gaze across the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Y/N?” Karina prompts, bringing your attention back to her. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Karina glances over her shoulder, following your line of sight. Her brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been weird around Sunghoon lately,” she remarks. “Did something happen?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly shake your head. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”

She shrugs, unconvinced. “I don’t know… Just a feeling.”

You’re saved from having to respond when the bell rings. You grab your books and make a beeline for your next class, trying to ignore the heat of Sunghoon’s stare burning into your back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Class drags on painfully. You can’t focus. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and annoyance. You thought sneaking around with Sunghoon would be fun, a game—a way to blow off steam. But now it’s getting messy, and you’re starting to feel the consequences.

When the bell finally rings, you bolt out of the classroom, desperate for fresh air. But as soon as you turn the corner, you’re yanked into an empty hallway.

Sunghoon.

His grip on your arm is firm, and his eyes are intense, searching yours. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low.

You pull your arm free, glaring at him. “What’s there to talk about, Sunghoon? We agreed this was supposed to be casual. No strings, remember?”

He frowns, clearly irritated by your tone. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore, does it?”

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s because you’re making it weird. Just… back off a little, okay?”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer. “Back off? You’re the one acting all paranoid, Y/N.”

“Maybe because you won’t stop staring at me like everyone else can’t see it!” you snap back, your voice rising. “This was supposed to be simple. But you’re turning it into something… complicated.”

He scoffs, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe because it is complicated. Or have you not noticed?”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, the way his closeness makes your heart race. “Don’t do this, Sunghoon,” you warn, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you’d like.

He pauses, his gaze softening just for a second. “Do what?”

“Make this more than it is,” you whisper, feeling a knot form in your throat. “Because I can’t… I won’t.”

Sunghoon’s expression hardens again, and he leans back, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine,” he mutters. “If that’s how you want it.”

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yeah. It is.”

He nods curtly, stepping away, his face unreadable. “Good. See you around, then,” he says before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you standing in the empty hallway with your heart in your throat.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days are torture. Sunghoon keeps his distance, and you tell yourself it’s for the best. But every time you see him, every time you catch his eyes across the cafeteria or in class, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that you can’t ignore.

Your friends notice the tension. They ask questions, but you shrug it off, pretending everything’s fine. But you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with Sunghoon, the way his face looked when you told him to back off. You hate how much you miss him, even if you’d never admit it to anyone, especially not to him.

One afternoon, as you’re walking to your car after school, you spot him leaning against a tree nearby, talking to some girl you don’t recognize. He’s smiling, that same smile that used to be reserved for your private moments. Something sharp twists in your chest, and you quickly look away, anger flaring up.

He catches your glance and, for a moment, his smile falters. But then he leans in closer to the girl, laughing at something she says, and your stomach churns with a mix of jealousy and frustration.

You grip your bag tighter, feeling a sting behind your eyes. This is exactly why you didn’t want things to get complicated. You turn away, refusing to look back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon avoids you. He’s usually the first one to shoot a teasing remark your way, but he’s silent. The hallways feel strangely empty without his usual jabs, and your friends are starting to notice the shift between you two.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Karina asks, as the two of you walk to lunch. Her tone is half-exasperated, half-amused, but you know she’s genuinely curious. “You and Sunghoon, I mean. There’s definitely more tension than usual.”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “When aren’t we fighting?” you mutter.

She gives you a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t push it further. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take without your feelings bubbling over. You’re determined to get through lunch without letting Sunghoon get under your skin, but when you enter the cafeteria, you spot him immediately.

He’s at your usual table, talking to Heeseung, but his gaze is elsewhere. The second you walk in, his eyes find yours, and there’s a fleeting moment of something unreadable in his expression. A flash of frustration? Longing? You can’t be sure.

You take a deep breath and head over, sliding into your usual seat. Karina sits next to you, and for a moment, everything feels normal. But then Sunghoon starts talking.

“So,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes locked on you, “Heeseung, heard you and Karina had another spat. What was it this time? You didn’t say ‘I love you’ enough?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, but Karina just laughs, lightly smacking Heeseung’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, babe. He’s just deflecting from his own issues,” she teases.

Sunghoon smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. “I don’t have issues, Karina. Just people who like to make things complicated,” he says, glancing at you.

You feel your face heat up, irritation boiling over. “Oh, please,” you snap back. “Like you’re the picture of simplicity.”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Never said I was. But at least I’m honest about it.”

Your chest tightens. “Honest?” you scoff. “You’ve been playing games from the start, Sunghoon.”

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “Maybe I have. But at least I know what I want.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “And what’s that, exactly?”

He leans forward, his voice dropping low so only you can hear. “You. But you already knew that.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a second, you’re frozen, caught between wanting to slap him and… something else. Something you’re not ready to face.

“You’re such a—” you start, but before you can finish, Sunghoon’s foot nudges yours under the table, and your breath hitches.

You’re hyper-aware of the table between you, the curious glances from your friends, and the heat creeping up your neck. Sunghoon’s gaze is still on you, challenging, waiting for your response.

You can’t help the retort that slips out. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a small grin. “More than you know.”

Before you can shoot back another insult, heeseung cuts in, oblivious to the tension. “Okay, what is happening between you two? I feel like I missed an entire chapter here.”

Sunghoon doesn’t even glance at Heeseung. “Nothing’s happening. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you reply, forcing a smile, but your voice sounds strained, even to your own ears.

Heeseung and Karina exchange a look, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say,” Karina murmurs with a smirk. “Just remember, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitch in amusement, and he finally looks away, leaning back in his chair as if nothing happened. But under the table, his foot is still lightly brushing against yours, sending sparks up your leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him see how much he’s getting to you.

But you can’t help it—the sensation, the frustration, and the undeniable attraction between you are all mixing into one chaotic storm.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and everyone begins to gather their things. You stand, trying to shake off the tension still lingering between you and Sunghoon, but Karina has other ideas.

“Hey, Y/N,” she calls, grabbing your arm just as you’re about to head out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nod, feeling a knot form in your stomach. She leads you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the crowd. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s not letting this go.

Karina crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Okay, seriously,” she starts, her voice low but pointed. “What the fuck was that back there?”

You blink, trying to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Sunghoon… there was some serious tension at lunch. It was like watching a live soap opera, and I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes.”

You sigh, glancing around to make sure no one is listening in. “It’s nothing, Karina,” you insist, but even to your own ears, it sounds unconvincing.

Karina raises an eyebrow. “Nothing? Really? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like something. A big something.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how much to tell her. “Look, we… we just don’t get along. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this felt different,” she replies, not letting up. “Like, I don’t know, it almost seemed like… there was something more there.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, but Karina’s not buying it.

She leans in closer, her expression turning more serious. “Y/N, I’m your best friend. I know when something’s up. And that? That was definitely something.”

You hesitate, torn between the urge to confide in her and the fear of admitting the truth. “It’s complicated,” you finally admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Karina’s eyes widen with intrigue. “Complicated how?”

You swallow hard, looking away. “I don’t even know how to explain it. We’ve just… been hanging out a little more lately. And things got… weird.”

“Weird how?” she presses, clearly not letting this go.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We’ve been… hooking up,” you confess, your voice almost inaudible.

Karina’s mouth falls open in shock. “Wait, what? You and Sunghoon?” She looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or gasp. “Since when?”

“A few weeks,” you admit, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety now that the secret is out.

Karina blinks, taking a moment to process. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would last this long,” you say defensively. “I thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but then… it wasn’t.”

Karina’s expression softens slightly. “And how do you feel about it? About him?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. Half the time, I can’t stand him. The other half… well, you saw how lunch went.”

Karina lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I did. It’s like you two can’t decide whether you want to kill each other or… not.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

Karina nudges you with her elbow. “Just be careful, okay? Sunghoon’s not exactly known for being straightforward with his feelings.”

You nod, appreciating her concern. “I know. Trust me, I’m not expecting anything… much. It’s just… whatever it is.”

Karina gives you a knowing smile. “Alright, but just remember, I’m here if you need to talk. Or, you know, if you need me to kick his ass.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As you walk back to class, you feel a little lighter, but also more uncertain than ever. Because now that Karina knows, it feels more real. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit.

You pause for a moment, letting your thoughts catch up to your racing heart. Sunghoon had admitted it first, hadn't he? In his own cryptic way, he’d confessed he wanted more than just the back-and-forth, more than just the thrill of the chase. You remember the way he looked at you that day, his eyes full of frustration and something else — something softer, something you weren’t ready to face.

He’d said he wanted you. He’d practically dared you to deny that you wanted him, too. And ever since, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that it didn't matter — that it was just some passing thing, some fling to fill the boredom. But it wasn't. It never was.

You sigh deeply, leaning back against the wall of the building. The memory of his words still lingers like a brand on your skin: "I want you." It had sounded so simple when he said it, so sure. Like he wasn’t afraid of the mess that came with it.

You’ve been too afraid to admit it to yourself, but now… now it feels like you’ve been fighting a battle that’s already lost.

He confessed his feelings first, but you’ve been holding back, afraid to let yourself feel the same. Afraid of what it might mean, of how it could change things between you. You thought you could control it, could manage the situation and keep your distance, but all you’ve managed to do is dig yourself deeper into this mess.

You’re tired. Tired of fighting your own heart, tired of pretending you’re unaffected. Tired of feeling like you're caught in this tug-of-war between desire and denial.

*He’s already put himself out there,* you remind yourself. *He made the first move.* And that thought alone is enough to push you forward, to make you realize that maybe it’s your turn now. Your turn to decide if you want to keep running or if you’re brave enough to let yourself fall.

Pushing off the wall, you feel a wave of determination settle over you. If you’re going to do this, you need to find him and be honest. Not just with him, but with yourself.

Because you don’t want to keep this back-and-forth going, this constant dance of pushing and pulling. You want to know where you stand — with him, and with whatever this thing between you is becoming.

You take a deep breath and start walking, knowing exactly where to find him. And this time, you’re not going to let him get away without an answer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You find Sunghoon by the lockers, leaning against the metal with that typical nonchalant pose he seems to have perfected. His head is tilted down, focused on his phone, but he looks up as you approach, sensing your presence. His eyes flicker with surprise for just a moment before his usual guarded expression returns.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance, but there’s something else there, too—an undercurrent of curiosity, maybe even hope.

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “We need to talk,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You try to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight waver in your voice. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” he retorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “After avoiding me all day?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the tension bubble up again. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snap, even though you both know it’s a lie. “I just needed… time to think.”

He straightens up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Think about what?” he asks, and his tone is a little softer now, less mocking.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words pressing down on you. “About this. About us,” you say, your voice steadier now. “I’m tired of all this back and forth, Sunghoon. I’m tired of pretending like there’s nothing between us when we both know there is.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, his guard slips. “I told you how I felt,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who kept pretending it was just… nothing.”

You feel a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. “I know,” you admit, meeting his gaze head-on. “And I was wrong. I thought I could just… push it away, ignore it. But I can’t. Not anymore.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens, just a little. “So what are you saying?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s trying not to hope too much.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay honest. “I’m saying… I want to figure this out. I want to try… whatever this is between us. But I need you to be real with me, Sunghoon. No more games.”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been real,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I’ve been real since that night at Karina’s party, and I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, by the way his eyes seem to bore into yours like he’s trying to see into your very soul. “I’m here now,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Sunghoon takes another step closer, and now he’s right in front of you, his breath warm on your skin. “So what do you want?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me, or are you still trying to convince yourself you don’t?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then you realize you’ve known the answer all along. “I want you,” you admit, your voice steady, finally letting the truth slip past your lips. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. I want to try… something real. But I don’t want it to be this constant push and pull, Sunghoon. I can’t keep doing that.”

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a small, almost relieved smile. “Then let’s stop playing games,” he says softly, leaning in closer. “Let’s see where this goes, no more pretending. Just you and me.”

You feel a strange sense of relief wash over you at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. “Okay,” you whisper, and it feels like the most honest thing you’ve said in a long time.

His smile widens just a fraction, and he closes the final distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. It’s not the frantic, heated kisses you’ve shared before—it’s slower, deeper, filled with a promise of something more.

And for the first time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Finally moving in the same direction.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Sunghoon change in ways you never could have anticipated. At first, it’s subtle — small shifts that only the two of you notice. You spend more time together between classes, sitting closer at lunch, and texting late into the night. The playful bickering is still there, but it’s softened somehow, more like an inside joke than a battle.

Your friends don’t notice at first. They’re used to seeing you and Sunghoon together, arguing about this or that, so the extra time you spend with him doesn't raise any immediate red flags. But eventually, the signs become too obvious to ignore.

One day at lunch, you’re sitting next to Sunghoon, your legs brushing under the table. His hand casually rests on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder. Jay, seated across from you, narrows his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes curious.

You glance over at Sunghoon, who just smirks. “What do you mean?” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can feel the flush creeping up your neck.

Jay gestures between the two of you. “This,” he says, waving his hand. “You two. You’re being weird. Weird even for you two.”

Karina, who’s been listening in, gasps. “Oh my god,” she says, her eyes widening with realization. “Are you guys… together?”

The table goes silent for a second, everyone turning to look at you. Sunoo’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jake leans forward, looking like he’s trying to solve a particularly complicated math problem.

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. “Depends,” he says casually. “What do you think?”

You elbow him in the side, rolling your eyes at his vague answer. “Yes,” you say, looking at your friends. “We’re… together. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Sunghoon echoes, feigning offense, and you shoot him a playful glare.

“Yes, kind of!” you insist, turning back to your friends, who are now staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re secretly an alien. “It’s… new.”

Heeseung chuckles. “I mean, I’m not totally surprised,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You two have been like a powder keg waiting to explode for years.”

Yuna nods eagerly. “Honestly, it was about time,” she adds, and you can’t help but laugh at her bluntness.

Jungwon, however, looks mildly concerned. “So, you’re serious?” he asks, glancing between you and Sunghoon. “Like, actually serious?”

Sunghoon looks at you, his smile softening just a bit, and he nods. “Yeah,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “We’re serious.”

Your friends take a moment to process this. Then Jake grins. “Alright,” he says, raising his glass of soda. “To Y/N and Sunghoon. The enemies-to-lovers arc we didn’t know we needed.”

You laugh, and everyone joins in, raising their glasses. It’s strange, in a way, seeing everyone so quickly accept what feels like a massive shift in your life. But it also feels… right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few days, things become more obvious. You and Sunghoon are no longer trying to hide. He reaches for your hand in the hallways, and you let him. He kisses you on the cheek in front of the others, and they pretend to gag but smile knowingly when they think you’re not looking.

You catch Karina’s eye one afternoon, and she gives you a grin that’s part smug, part excited. She leans over, whispering, “So… you finally admitted you like him, huh?”

You smile, shrugging a bit. “Guess so,” you say, and she laughs, nudging you with her elbow.

The hardest part, strangely enough, is getting used to the change yourself. It’s still weird to not have to hide how you feel, to be able to smile at Sunghoon without wondering if anyone is watching. But with each passing day, it gets a little easier.

And it’s not like everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon still argue — of course, you do. That’s just how you are. But there’s something different now, something that feels less like anger and more like… passion. Like you’re both on the same side, even when you’re bickering.

There are moments when you catch him looking at you from across the room, a small smile on his lips, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. And in those moments, you know — this is real. This is right.

Your friends have stopped asking questions. They’ve accepted that this is your new normal, and honestly, so have you. The only thing left to do is see where it takes you.

taglist: @awqken @hollyoongs @enhastolemyheart @wonnienyang @skzenhalove @slvrnm @lovesangyeon @velvetkisscs @soobieboo @jakeflvrz @woorcve @moonpri @blockbusterhee @yjwsgf @doublebunv @moon4moony @woniebae @moon368 @jakeswifewithtwokids @love4hee @ikeryn @univershoon @indigoez @ramenoil @iilwji @riribell @ilabjungwon @tunafishyfishylike @psh23xie @toodeloosoo @leov3rse @onlyhyunjin @nyxtwixx @mnxnii @whateverhoon @jayrelics @laurradoesloveu @heeswif3y @enhalxvr @yunhoswrldddd @nikiswifiee @aiiselle90210 @lixiebokie @lelsforlino @eneiyri @punchbug9-blog @babystrlla @hee-yunie @hoonics @notevenheretbh1

[demonslayerunhinged]

It's crazy to think that in this moment Tanjiro didn't just save Genya, he saved Sanemi too.

Imagine the fallout that would have happened if Sanemi had succeeded in blinding Genya.

He would lose the respect of all the slayers including Obanai because ignoring your brother is one thing but blinding him? Nah.

He might get banned from the corps and Kagaya would express his upmost disappointment in him which for Sanemi is like a death sentence.

His relationship with Gyomei would be destroyed. Genya might be his brother but remember he's still under the guidance of the strongest hashira.

I think Gyomei's reaction would be especially disasterous because he knows the kinds of assumptions people make about him because of his blindness, and to find out that Sanemi deliberately blinded his brother. Like dude.

Sanemi would never forgive himself. Like I said ignoring your brother is one thing but intentionally maiming your loved one crosses a line that he wouldn't be able to come back from.

So all this would happen because of some stupid, impulsive decision he made due to fear.

And I think he realizes it too. The fact that he left Genya alone after the incident, if he really thought his actions were sane and justified he would keep trying to poke his eyes out but he didn't. he seems ashamed to face him.

Just look at his face, he's like 'wtf??? I can't believe I almost blinded my baby bro!', 'what the fuck Sanemi?', 'what the fuck?, what the fuck?!'

This is the face of someone who can't believe and is ashamed of his actions.

In his next encounter with Tanjiro notice how he doesn't go apeshit and give him another beat down. It's only when he feels that our bestest boy is making fun of him that he lashes out. He's probably glad that Tanjiro saved Genya and is looking out for him but his stupid male pride won't allow him to say that.

Also look at the position of the scratch on Genya's face. He's being hurt a second time by the people he loves. My poor babyyyyy!

Sanemi I love you but that's absolutely unhinged behavior even for you. Like do I need to bring out the spray bottle?

Bad Nemi! *spritz *spritz

This kinda adds to my theory that Sanemi has some kind of anxiety disorder in addition to his depression.

Also shout-out to Zenitsu for taking Genya away no questions asked. He's such an underrated character. 🤗

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

If there was any disappointment or repulsion at what the man on the tv had mutated into, he didn't see it in Janey's face. Disarmingly, she seemed to be taking his disfigured features in stride. Clearly he was not the first ghoul she'd been sat this close to for a chat.

God, how long had she been out here? Since before he'd been put in the ground by Dom Pedro? How many times had they passed through the same routes like ships in the night, utterly unaware of how close they were to finding each other? How many times had she almost been killed before they ever even crossed paths?

He could have killed her himself, without ever even recognising her for who she was. The realisation was chilling.

"It's you."

A gentle touch jolted The Ghoul out of his grim rumination. He reflexively tensed under the contact, eyeing the hand that had settled onto his bony knee as if it was a hallucination that he hadn't expected to actually be real. He could feel the warmth of her palm through his trouser leg; it stirred a faint memory of a time when physical affection had been as natural as breathing, and made his throat tighten.

When was the last time someone had touched him outside of a fight? He didn't remember. Nobody touched him. Everyone who survived meeting The Ghoul knew better than to try and become too familiar.

He was acutely aware of the ropes pinning his arms to his sides.

"You remember me. You are real... I knew it..."

Considering how many folks he'd outlived with his condition, she had no idea just how lucky they were that he had any memories or lucidity left at all.

...Why had she been doubting whether he was real? She'd definitely been old enough to remember him. Then again, maybe whatever way she'd been preserved for this long had messed with her head, too.

"... hell you mean how am I here? How are you here? I was safe in a Vault, you were... what, you were out here for two hundred years? Is that even possible?"

The Ghoul simply lifted his shoulders in an awkward little shrug, and leaned back against the overturned trolley. The dig of metal bars against his back was grounding. Shit, he was too high for this kind of conversation. It had been a long time since he'd actually wanted to be sober when talking to someone, but right now it was only adding to the already mountainous pile of ways he was really fucking up this long-awaited family reunion.

"I was searchin' for you," he told her flippantly, as though that wasn't a horribly exposing confession to scrape out of his chest and plop down on the floor in between them. As though it really was just a matter of being too stubborn to die before he found out what had happened to her.

"Knew them vaults would open up eventually. Just had to find the right one."

And discard all his moral principles so that he could make enough money to feed his growing dependency on those damned vials for survival.

"God, you were out here all this time? I thought you died that day, I thought... if I had known... could've..."

The Ghoul tilted his head to one side, slanting her a wry little smile with a morbidly knowing edge.

"You were a kid. Nothin' you could've done, darlin'."

Cooper Howard had died a long time ago. Janey Howard would've died too, if she hadn't made it into that vault. And not all things that died became reborn - or lasted half as long as he'd managed to.

He gave a pointed little look down at the ropes that bound him, and a querying eyebrow raise in Janey's direction - do you mind?

Fortunately, she seemed to have just had the same awkward epiphany that restraints were largely an obsolete thing at this point.

"Shit, the rope. Right."

The Ghoul stayed very still as she drew her knife and hesitated over him. Why was she hesitating? Why was she looking at him like that now, with shaky hands? It unsettled him that he couldn't get a clear read on what she was thinking. He didn't know this adult Janey at all. Being family didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't going to fuck him over - he'd seen families turn on each other countless times before. That didn't make the concept hurt any less.

He'd rather be shot by that vault-dweller. He'd rather be ripped apart by ferals or eaten alive by a gulper. He'd rather face any other death than one at his own daughter's hands.

"Wait, do you remember-"

His brow furrowed. It had been two hundred fucking years, so there were no guarantees he was going to have crystal-clear memory recall of whatever this last-minute little test was supposed to be.

Or maybe this was where he found out he'd unknowingly killed one of her buddies, or some similarly awkward shit.

"What's the last thing you taught me? Before the slice of cake."

The Ghoul simply stared at her in blank silence.

...Well. Shit. He vaguely remembered that they'd been talking about something, just the two of them, before he'd gone inside to try and ask the hostess if he could take a slice of cake for her. What had they been talking about, again? This was going to look really bad if he couldn't remember, but being put on the spot like this was difficult enough when it was about something that happened last year - let alone two centuries ago.

"Do you remember what you told me, the thing about the cloud, and what to do?"

There was a flicker of comprehension across his marred features; his expression turned oddly distant, etched with something uncharacteristically somber.

Is it your thumb, or mine?

A gloved hand twitched at his side, then balled into a shaky fist; slowly, he turned it and raised his thumb in the abhorrent gesture he had avoided for so long. The gesture that had become so synonymous with Vault Tec's brand, because of one stupid photoshoot he'd done for them, that they'd kept it even after they cut him out of all their marketing.

"...If the cloud's smaller than your thumb, run for the hills." The words were very quiet and hollow, recited on autopilot.

"If it's bigger... don't bother runnin'."

Ironic, how utterly he'd disregarded that advice he'd been given in the marines the moment he'd been faced with a nuclear bomb with his daughter at his side. He hadn't even hesitated to grab her and run. And despite all the odds, they were both still here.

"...How'd the vaults keep you alive this long? Where's your mom?"

@savingthrcw

She kept watching him with the same rapt attention as before, studying his face, his eyes, his reactions. Even her mother couldn't have come up with putting him in a coffin and spreading voices of him being such a good shot just in case Janey was hit by one of her moments of stupidity - what Roy called compassion - and decided she definitely, absolutely, needed to pull him out of the ground and see if he wanted a job. It was too convoluted, right? "…I ain't the man on tv."

Like fuck he wasn't.

"...Not any more. How are you here?"

There he was. Janey sat back down, or more accurately had to drop more heavily on the floor after sitting up so straight, and for a moment she just felt that there was a hole where her emotions should be now that she wasn't spouting a list of proof that she was his daughter; she didn't know what happened now, what was supposed to happen. Shoulders dropping, the look on her face was one of both longing and fear, and she reached out to drop a hand on his knee, to feel something solid against her palm, something real. "It's you," she repeated in a small voice, more to herself than to communicate with him. "You remember me." Ah, there was another emotion, leftover fear that his brain had just erased her after two hundred years. "You are real... I knew it..."

He was my dad, it was all real, she had said so many damn times growing up, at first to her mother and the counselor she was brought to so she'd discuss her 'nervous breakdown', then to herself at night. As unlikely as it was, the movie star, cowboy, who had saved her from radiation taking her to the Vault on a horse, was very, very real.

"... hell you mean how am I here? How are you here? I was safe in a Vault, you were... what, you were out here for two hundred years? Is that even possible?" Considering he looked actually different from most Ghouls, yet so much less like a corpse than some who were still fighting and kicking at her camp, it did seem possible that he had found some hack. "God, you were out here all this time? I thought you died that day, I thought... if I had known... could've..."

Shit, if she had known she could have looked for him. She could've found him. She'd have put up fucking posters with her name and location if she had to, screw Vault 31. But no, she had been so convinced he must have died because of the radiation that it had never crossed her mind to look.

"Shit, the rope. Right." She straightened up on her knees and turned off the tv, taking a knife off her belt so she could cut it off, but hesitated at last, hovering over him - it was her imagination now and she knew it, but from up close she could see her father's face even more, despite all the mess left by radiation. "Wait, do you remember-" something only she would know, now something only he would know. That was how it was meant to be done, no matter how sure she was that it was her dad. And her fucking hands were shaking, that was sure new. Only times she remembered shaking was as a kid and when the Deathclaw had started literally eating her. "What's the last thing you taught me? Before the slice of cake. Do you remember what you told me, the thing about the cloud, and what to do?"

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.�� You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

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Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. ��I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

-

tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[alottiegoingon]

hc! married life

lucy maclean x fem!reader

summary: meeting lucy + being married to her

warnings: lucy is a dork, established relationship, its 2296-2300ish, it takes place after fallout finale and things get better after it, nothing but fluff and a married couple doing cute shit, no nsfw but mentions of it, quick cannibalism mentions (uh…), wasteland and life outside the vault brief mentions, reader wasn't born in the vault, not proofread, silly plot

when you first met lucy, you found her in the old antique store. you were talking to the not so nice lady that owned the place when you saw her step inside with an inquisitive gaze, observing a bunch of what it looked like junk to you. it was almost hilarious seeing a young woman wearing that goofy ass blue and yellow jumpsuit.

you were leaning against the wall in the corner, listening to all of her chattering about vault-tec. it sounded like nothing but utterly tedious

"it would be safe to assume that you do business with criminals. not judging you. don’t imagine there’s that many other options up here." blissfully unaware of the death stare coming from that lady, she boldly muttered and it immediately made you step out of the corner you were hiding in to save her

"she doesn't mean that! she's new here, sorry." you jump in, forced to intervene, touching lucy's shoulder and giving them a light squeeze. she furrowed her brows in response with your disapproving glance. “wha- who are you? i was just talking about the equipments!”

pulling her away from the place, you hear the hoarse voice behind you saying "fucking vault dweellers."

it didn't take longer than a day for you two to be friends. sharing stupid stories from her vault, fun facts, and learning about each other's life and family was one of the things that you bonded over

while you two were outside once, walking together by the wrecked lanes of what los angeles used to be, and lucy began to talk about her life in the vault and you were more than impressed and in disbelief of how naive vault dweellers could be

"wait, what do you mean?" your face twists at the second you heard lucy saying that the guy she married was an outsider that was responsible for killing half of her vault. "how can you married someone you've never met?"

"well, you see, when you marry someone from another vault, usually it comes with benefits! we gave them seeds and parts for machinery and they offered us a breeder!" lucy explains it all like the good teacher she is, assertively nodding with shoulders back

you forced yourself to repress a laugh by looking the other way, and she immediately noticed and questioned you incredulously but you knew her too well already to notice that she wasn't mad. "what is it?!"

"you people marry strangers for seeds and to have kids? that sounds... miserable. what if they are awful people or outsiders like that guy?"

"okay, when you say it like that..." she loses her shoulders, brushing her confidence away, gulping and chuckling awkwardly. "but you are an outsider. and you aren't that bad."

"careful there. it makes you sound like you are very found of the outsider here, lucy maclean." you stare back at her and see a tender smirk peeking onto her lips. her body slightly leaning against yours, and a soft gaze that swiftly averted when you caught her. she didn't deny it though, you thought

it took her one kiss to invite you to live with her after your mission was done and you gladly accepted.

the invitation was up even after all the truth about her dad. after all the traumatic experience, on the way to your new home, you never left her alone not even for a second. you were always holding hands, sharing glances, leaning against each other and making her giggle as you were losing the track of how many times you kissed her face

in the vault, after everything was settled, you had all the time in the world to take care of her and learn about each other. you would spend hours running your fingers through her hair, listening to whatever she said and playing with her fingers while holding her hand. you would let her talk about all the memories with her family and carefully laugh along or comfort her when needed

you knew that you couldn't erase her bad memories from what had happened but you could create new ones and you focused on that

it was about time when she proposed to you, stuttering, crying and using a bunch of silly expressions like "holy moly" or "jeepers creepers"??!

don't get me started on the honeymoon. yes, you were living in a giant metal capsule but you could swear that as soon as you left the room after days, you were able to breathe fresh air.

lucy wasn’t exactly the easiest person to appease. especially not after finally seeing through the entire “breed” thing that everyone in the vault worshipped so much and experiencing what actually love could be. turns out that sex isn’t something people do just to have kids and “recolonize” the earth, after all

strongly believe that she would be such a loud and whiny girl when you touch her. even the slightest graze would make her legs tremble and she would go like 🥺

"wanna cook together?" "wanna go gardening?" "wanna watch a movie?" "hi, princess, wanna read something together?" "teach me your repair skills?" and her answer would always be "okey dokey" and a huge smile

your favorite part about gardening was to plant food and use it for dinner as you cooked together. and by that, it meant that you would cook while she was happily seating following you around with a cooking book giving you orders like a princess

in other times, you were proud to distract her on purpose by hugging her waist from behind, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. reasonable to assume that the entire room would smell like smoke as she cried at the sight of you on her knees and between her legs, eating her out

when it came to help around the vault, you were a great teacher along with your wife, making sure that all the facts were correct but in a less traumatizing way in order to not scare all the kids with “yeah, so basically all my family got killed by explosions but, hey, i’m here now!”

after a long day, watching movies was your favorite thing to do. one night, when discussing all the different genres of movies that lucy had never seen, you mentioned a specific one

“you know, my grandma used to tell me about this really weird show from the 2020’s where some creepy teenage girls ate each other after crashing into the wilderness.” and lucy’s face goes pale, looking like 😦

“golly gee… i hate it up there.”

[bubonicc-writing]

The Rebound

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3194

Summary: It's been a long time since Cooper has felt a loving touch. Perhaps a little too long because he's not entirely sure what to do with you.

CW: Semi-slow burn, smut, P in V, creampies, loving on a crispy man who needs it real bad. Prob ooc because this is my first fallout/reader fic ever (sowwy)

Cooper was a hard man to break. Downright standoffish and a straight-up jackass. At least that was what he was like when you first met him. Charismatic, confident, an excellent shot, but god, was he a prick. That, though, you had gotten used to the longer you traveled together. As the months dragged on, that standoffishness started to shed from the Ghoul. 

It started with random small talk picking up between you two as you travel between settlements. For the first few months together, it was mostly silence or business talk traded between you. Who was the next bounty? Where were they last? Can you scavenge while I get intel? It was all just business. That was until one night, Cooper started making small talk between their travels. Then came the soft conversations by the fire when they settled for the night. Every week, the weight of that duster and those guns on his back seemed to lighten the more he talked to you. Then came the offered cantine of water on a scorching day. Already an out-of-the-ordinary gesture from him, more so because your cantine wasn’t empty and he was offering his for a sip.

You took it.

The small talk turned into jokes with hushed laughs between you. As Cooper drawled on, you watched him over the campfire's tip. The light it threw cast beautiful shadows along Cooper's features, and when that crooked ass grin warped his lips more and more, you felt a tinge in the center of your chest. A little candlelight flickering and quivering whenever he spoke in that long drawl. It blazed when his eyes flicked up at you, staring at you in a way that made it seem like he could see right through you. It was like he could see that candle burning just for him.

Now, when the two of you slept, you were no longer on opposite sides of the room. You both started to creep toward each other every night until you were only a few feet apart. Cooper never laid down when he slept. Instead, he leaned against the wall and semi-slouched. He’d tilt his hat downward until the brim hid his eyes. Finally, he would cross his legs and arms before drifting off. You, on the other hand, preferred your bedroll. While not much, it was still better than the barren floor or the questionable mattress they occasionally came across. 

Tonight, a storm was coming through, bringing billowing winds and harsh rain that pounded the roof of the abandoned gas station they had sheltered in. You had tried hours ago to sleep, but the chill from the wind crept between the broken boards and cracked windows. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to get warm in any position. You flopped over one more time, now facing where Cooper was slouched against a wall a good two feet from you. His brim was cast down, covering his eyes as usual, but from how still he was, you figured he had fallen asleep a while ago.

 Chewing your lip, you hesitated momentarily before scooting towards him and bridging the gap. Snuggling up against his hips and thighs, you sighed contently. He smelled of gunpowder and smoke, typical. Slumber tugged at your eyelids, and you finally drifted off within minutes.

A light sleeper for obvious reasons in this hellhole of a wasteland, Cooper had awoken the second you had touched his leg. He waited for you to settle before opening one eye halfway and staring down his brim at you. Studying your peaceful expression and how you pressed your nose into his thigh. Two rouge strands of your hair had fallen against your cheek, slightly curled at the tips.

A former version of himself would have shoved you away, telling you to git back to your side of the station. Except the current version of himself felt something swirling around in his chest. It was slightly uncomfortable but not all too unfamiliar.

It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years, something that longed for that little touch and craved so much more. It flopped around behind his ribcage, and he grits his teeth in annoyance.

Sighing and looking back down, he shifts gently. Bringing one hand down and outstretching two fingers, he tenderly brushes the hair strands behind your ear. With that, he recrosses his arms and sits back, eyes closing.

As the months continue, so do they, but Cooper is different at night. His expressions are somber, his eyes distant while he sharpens his knives. Deep in thought, sometimes it takes calling his name twice before he looks up at you.

“Coop, are you alright?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed together in concern. You were annoyed when he smiled and chuckled softly, telling you he was peaches and cream. You didn’t push the matter and didn’t have to because he mentioned his daughter three nights later.

He spoke slowly, hesitantly, wondering if he should even be saying any of this to you in the first place. He wasn’t a vulnerable man, not anymore, anyway. 

He spoke, and you listened, night after night, as more pieces of the puzzle of this mystery man fell together. Under all those clothes and behind all those guns, Cooper was still just a man—an ordinary man.

“You’ll find her Coop,” Reaching over from where you were sitting at his side, you placed your hand on his wrist and gently squeezed it, “I know you will.” 

Cooper didn’t respond, but a smile so tiny it almost went missed curved the corners of his lips.

As you lay in your bedroll that night, you felt something shift against your front. Opening your tired eyes halfway, you watched through blurry vision as Cooper lay down next to you. His back was to you, but you scooted against his spine without a second thought. Resting your cheek between his shoulder blades, you closed your eyes again. 

Eventually, Cooper lay facing you. Without saying anything, he would hook your waist and tug you against his chest. Then, you would feel him resting his chin on your head. The first time he had done it, your face burned so hot you feared you might catch ablaze. If Cooper noticed, he didn’t say. No matter, you didn’t want him to stop, and you were sure he didn’t want you to, either. 

In truth, Cooper would be lying if he ever said he didn’t like the sensation of your small palms against his chest. He loved how you played with the buttons on his dirty shirt until you fell asleep.

Each night, you did the same thing, chest to chest, until finally, one night, you nuzzled your face into the nook of Cooper's neck. Soft and plump lips grazed across his scarred skin before placing a gentle kiss on Cooper’s jawline. 

Immediately, Cooper stiffened against you. You felt his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back pause. You heard him swallow suddenly, and your stomach sank as you expected him to push you away and scold you. 

Instead, Cooper cleared his throat and nestled his chin harder against the top of your head. 

Days in the wasteland dragged on usually, but the following days felt like an eternity since that night. Bounty after bounty, caps collected, and supplies scavenged, Cooper never once brought it up. Instead, he carried on as usual, which, in truth, made your heartache.

It was possible that even after all of this time, the candle he had ablaze in your chest was not mutually lit. 

What you didn’t know was that Cooper's heart had bounced out of his chest and into his throat that night. He didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to flush, but damn, they felt hot. It was alien; over 200 years of feeling the kiss of bullets, he had forgotten what a real one felt like. It was incredible but also terrifying.

 He had loved, and he had lost. 

The nights following the kiss, Cooper waited for you to make a move again, but you didn’t. You slept with your back to him and didn’t move when he pressed against you and draped an arm over your waist. After a few minutes, he felt your fingers intertwine with him in a gentle grip. 

The two of you stayed linked that night.

The following night, Cooper watched as you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your boots, getting ready to sleep after a long day of tracking a bounty through the unforgiving sun. Reaching up, you released your hair from its loose bun and let your locks fall messily over your shoulders.

You half turned when you felt Cooper grab your hand. Watching him bring it to his lips, he kissed your palm and pressed your hand against his cheek.

The brim of his hat temporarily hid his eyes, but when he looked up at you, your heart fluttered. No words were exchanged as you slowly leaned forward, having to stand on your toes even to come close to his marred lips. Centimeters away, you paused, but Cooper filled the gap.

The first kiss was gentle, and your free hand came up to cup Cooper’s other cheek. When you broke away, it wasn’t for long. Reconnecting, your kisses became hungrier, and your hands on Cooper's cheeks drifted downward. Running over his neck, then his collar and chest. You worked your way down as he kissed you until you palmed at his groin.

“Wait,” Cooper pulled away suddenly, stepping back, “wait…fuck” He turned on his heels, pacing back and forth. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching him shake his head and curse to himself. “Coop?”

Once he stopped pacing, he sighed and shook his head before glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I don’t think I have it in me no more, sweetheart.” He laughed softly at himself. 

“What do you mean?” Taking a step towards him, she watched as he finally turned to face her.

“It’s… been a long time. A really long time, sugar.” Too long, really, at least, that is what he thought anyway. Nobody had touched him like this since before the bombs. Nobody had loved him. The only thing he knew now was blood, bullets, and ass jerky.

“Coop,” You said softly, moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his towering frame, “let me take care of you for once.” There was silence before Cooper rested his chin atop your head and laughed. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of your shirt to rub at the soft skin there. 

Looking up, you place a chain of kisses along his jawline. Meanwhile, one of your hands pressed against his back snaked back to his front. There, you worked your way down again until you felt the subtle tent in his pants. You palmed it gently, drawing out soft groans from your Ghoul. He shifted in place, sliding his chin off your head and burying his face between the nook in your neck. His hips lean forward into your touch, and you purr at that.

“That’s it,” you whisper, working the top button until it pops. Next, you slide his zipper down and slide your hand inside. “I’ve got you.”

Upon grabbing his stiffening cock, you feel him tense against you, even sagging a little bit as you start to stroke. Your thumb rubs over his swollen head, spreading the generous amount of precum around. You feel it pulse against your palm, and you can’t help but smile when Copper’s breath stutters against your neck.

“Fuck darling,” He drawls, “You know how to drive a man mad.” Bringing his hands up from your hips, Cooper knots his fingers into the back of your shirt. It doesn’t take long to have him unraveling. You can feel his thighs trembling and his grip tightening the closer he gets to release. Like butter, he is melting and fast.

Each new noise you pull from him causes a feverish heat to swell over your form. Your stomach flips, and you feel your heat clench with desire. As much as you would like to keep your composure, you lean into him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as you stroke faster and faster. 

The choked growl Cooper lets out is the only warning you get before hot fluid coats your palm and wrist. His hips lurch in your grip twice before he suddenly sags hard against your form. Finger still twisted in your shirt, he finally lets go and lets his arms swing heavily by his sides. His legs are like jelly, and it takes him a moment to stand up semi-straight, his hat slightly crooked. He looks drunk, his eyes glossy, that stupid ass grin you loved smeared across his lips.

“That good, huh?” Stepping back to give him a little breathing room, you pluck the first few buttons of your shirt open. Allowing your shirt to part and fall from your shoulders, your breasts become exposed. With your other hand, you reach down and open the first button of your pants.

“Well then,” You coo, “come on then bounty hunter.” You shimmy your pants and panties off, kicking them off to the side, leaving your form raw to his eyes. “Come and get it.”

There was no need to ask twice. Rushing forward, Cooper grabbed your hips and slammed your forms together. Your lips crashed together again and again, and you whined into his mouth, horribly needy. You didn’t doubt Cooper had seen the slick glistening on your inner thigh.

Pushing you backward, you allowed Cooper to guide you to your bedroll. Once close enough to it, he kicked his foot out, hooked his heel around your leg, and pulled it out from under you. As you fell backward, he fell with you, landing flat on his palms. Towering over you now, eyes ablaze as they drink in your beet red face and beautiful puffy pink breasts. 

“You’ve been wantin' this for a while, haven’t yah?” Lifting one of his hands and pressing it against your soft belly, he drags it down towards your heat. Without warning, he slides his middle and ring finger through your folds, running over your sensitive clit. You gasp, tossing your head back.

“Ngh! Fuck!” Looking up between your bodies, you watch as Cooper drags his fingers up and down over and over, teasing your swelling clit. “Fuck Coop, fuck!”

“Well,” He growls, “Who am I to keep a lady waitin'?” Without warning, his middle and ring finger coast downward and dip deep into your gushing cunt. The squeal that escapes your lips has Cooper chuckling. He presses deep into you, humming as your walls grip his digits. 

Burying himself knuckle deep over and over, a squelching noise is followed by each hand thrust. You lift and twist your hips from the intense waves of pleasure. Only when you feel Cooper withdraw his fingers do you flop down, panting harshly.

Through half-lidded and blurry eyes, you watch Cooper bring his hand between you. He inspects them before spreading his two fingers apart, a tendril of thick fluid connecting them.

“You get this wet for everybody else? Or just little o’l me?”

Turning your head away in embarrassment, you feel Cooper grip your chin and return your gaze to him. 

“Eyes on me.” He growls as he rolls his hips forward, running his stiff cock between your slick folds. The head bumps your clit, and for a moment, you think you see stars. Over and over again, he grinds against you, littering your chest with kisses in the meantime. 

When you finally feel him lean back and press his head against your opening, he hesitates. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’ve got you.” Sliding both arms around his neck, you gently tug him into your warm embrace. One hand rugs between his shoulder blades while your other rubs the back of his neck.

Allowing himself to lean forward, he nuzzles into the side of your neck before biting the soft flesh. 

Rolling his hips forward, he breaches and slides into you with ease. Gasping and choking out a soft cry, you feel him bury himself to his hilt. Hip connected to hip for a brief moment, he finally drags himself out. Rolling forward, the pase is slow, perhaps even loving, before your Ghoul gets hungry.

It doesn’t take long before your hips are slapping together. You can’t stop the sobs of pleasure that break past your lips with each sharp snap of his hips. Digging your nails into his shoulder blades, you feel your eyes cross when the head of his cock punches that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Cooper!” Your back arches off of your bedroll, “F-fuck! I’m… I’m” The hot waves of pleasure radiating from your belly to your groin all the way down your trembling thighs to your toes are winding too tight. “I’m gonna cum!” 

He didn’t slow down and instead angled himself better to strike that little bundle of nerves that had your eyes rolling back. It took two hard hits before he felt your beck snap into a tight arch. He felt your chest bump hard against him, and your hips twisted to the right as your climate ripped you apart.

Head thrown back, mouth wide open, no sound came out of you as your climax held you prisoner.

Above, Cooper's thrusts started to become sloppy, losing their rhythm as your cunt clamped down on him spasmodically. As much as he tried to hold on, it had been too long, and you had felt too good.

Grunting hard into the side of your neck, you felt a warmth bloom in your groin as Cooper spilled everything he had left into you. He slammed your hips together, holding you in place and burying himself as deep as he could, pumping you full. The sensation had goosebumps blooming across your skin as your body finally deflated back down against the bedroll. 

With eyes half-lidded and glossy, you made out the foggy shape of Cooper still hunched over you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Every other breath was a soft wheeze. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and a droplet fell and landed on your chest.

Leaning back and sliding himself from your heat, a thick flood of cum followed. You shivered at the sensation and watched as Cooper lowered himself against your form. Resting his head between your breasts, he inhaled sharply and sighed.

Lovingly, you stroked the back of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his hot breath against your breast.

Together, you lay like that while listening to the rain from a passing storm plink against the tin roof.

When you looked down, Cooper's eyes were closed, and his breathing had finally leveled. Letting your head fall back, you closed your own eyes and smiled.

For once, the wasteland was at peace.