#thinking about it when they say their unsure on the direction to take soundwave. I GET! how they ended up with welker doing That Voice lmao

[istherewifiinhell]

[ID: 8 audition sheets for the original 1984 Transformer cartoon, for Megatron, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Starscream, Prowl, Wheeljack and Soundwave. Each contains a short character bio and dialogue to read. There are additional notes in pen on the pages. Full transcription below. Note you can actually find the high res of these and ones for 100 other g1 characters at The Sunbow Marvel Archive

MEGATRON [Pen note] Read Welker! Megatron -- is the leader of the heavies in the show. "The silken evil one" he's sometimes called. Think 30-ish. Is educated, polished. Has a philosophical side to him. Is controlled, thinking, intelligent. Here Megatron and a group of his warriors have just crawled out of volcano into this world -- a new one to him. He surveys the landscape for a moment then speaks…. [Pen note] a zigzag and the word VOCALIZE)

Much time has passed. And we are far from Cybertron… But our mission has not changed. If this land is as filled with resources as we believe it to be, we shall return home with the power to build the ultimate weapon -- a weapon with which we will conquer the universe….!

Below, Megatron model art, and speech bubble has been drawn around the dialogue.

OPTIMUS PRIME [Pen Note] NOBLE!! (its underlined twice) A "man" of character! (Not too fast!) (each word underlined)

Prime -- full name, "Optimus Prime." Age 35-ish. The commander of the good guys. Born leader. Firm, sensitive, cool under pressure, revered by his troops. Here he addresses a group of aliens -- not necessarily enemy -- that he and his patrol group have happened upon unexpectedly. It's possible the aliens will consider Prime and his group as unwelcome intruders. Prime reassures them. [Note: Aliens have called his group "Decepticons"]

We are not Decepticons…/ [Pause to let aliens understand] We're Autobots… from Cybertron… a planet far from the Earth. I am known as Optimus Prime. Understand that we are not here to provoke violence. (Our aim is to stop it.) But, we have come to a moment of truth in this battle and I ask for volunteers from among your ranks to join with us in our cause. (SEVERAL VOLUNTEERS STEP FORWARD) Good! (PRIME SHOUTS OFF TO ONE OF HIS OFFICERS) Make room for these friends We're moving out immediately!

The stage directions have been squared in pen, model art of Prime and his alt mode.

BUMBLBEE [Pen note] -Try cocky "top gun" - Try unsure novice (unlined). An arrow points to his age and says "Young!" BUMBLE BEE is about 19 years old. A young, somewhat inexperienced pilot, he's ordinarily teamed with Wheel Jack, a veteran who can fly anything. On a solo flight, Bumble Bee has gotten into bad weather, and Wheel Jack is trying to talk him down. Here we get Bumble Bee's cockpit end of the conversation held over the emergency frequency.

[Pen note] IN SOMEWHAT OF A "SWEAT" and "Having followed Wheeljack's instructions"

Well, Wheel Jack, I've done it…. I'm up here somewhere, but. (A BEAT) I'm listenin', I'm listenin'!! (A BEAT) Don't yell at me! Your blood pressure can't take it! (A BEAT) And don't threaten me either… I'll… …I'll turn off my radio! (A BEAT) What?!! . (RESIGNED) Yes, I'm listening… (SUDDENLY) Arggghhhh!!!

The stage directions have been squared, a second scream as been crossed out that the bottom of the page.

JAZZZZ [Pen notes] His name rewritten with the normal two Z spelling in a fancy type. ABOUT 28 yrs old NOTE: Casting Scatman Crothers No audition! This has been squared and possibly a different writer has put "Yay!" underlined twice.

JAZZZ -- is Exec to Prime, the Autobot commander. Has a very special relationship with his boss. No "sir"-ing, or saluting… but the job gets done quietly and efficiently. An interesting character, Jazzz's personality is even more interesting because of a certian hip, cool quality in his language. Here Jazzz reports to Prime via the PC (personal com channel). Very much at ease with the skipper, we can sense the confidence the C.O. has in him.

Negative, Prime. I don't think that'll help much. From what we can see up here, North Cybertron's blacker than the inside of a drive shaft. I'm afraid we're runnin' on empty. (JAZZ SEES SOMETHING OFF) Cool it a sec, Prime… We got a little friction needs some lubricatin'..! (HE SHOUTS OFF) Spike!… Get that patrol under cover before the Dee-ceps start checkin' their sights on ya!!

STAR-SCREAM [Pen notes] (A Decepticon) In a bubble Good dialogue! STAR-SCREAM is second in command of the heavies in our show. Think 25-ish. He's a hot-head, envious of his commander's position. Here he's just been given orders to establish the base camp while the commander attends to other matters. A subordinate listens as Star-scream grumbles. [Pen notes] Certain words in the dialogued underlined in indicate the sentence stress, a zigzag labeled "a growl"

Someday I'll be givin' the orders, Rumble. You'll do what I tell ya! I know they say he can't be out-smarted, but I'll find a way.. Everyone has a weakness. And, I'll find his. (CALLING OUT) Alright now, shake things up!!!

Underneath is written "Need model" which is crossed out and "Bacal says CAST LATTA! -K"

PROWL [Pen notes] CALM, COOL. LIKE A CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR. Good dialogue! and something harder to read under his name, maybe "thinker".

PROWL is a senior staff officer. Age… about 30. His duties involve intelligence, logistics, etc., rather than command duties. Serious, studious, and matter of fact, he's highly repected [sic] for his analytical mind. He's great at reading the scopes, determining how long a space journey will take and how much fuel will be required. Here he provides a running account of certain critical info. The style is not unlike that of a very competent surgeon.

Pressure stabilized at four-fifty. Standby to launch outriggers… and… Launch!! (HE CHECKS A SCREEN) Very good… Let's have a look at the acceleration rate… Thank you. (SHARPLY) Main gyros!.. Watch your RPM up there! Please stay within specs!! (TO A FELLOW STAFFER, EASIER AND A BIT PATERNAL) This crew needs a little navigation drill.

WHEEL JACK [Pen notes] Like air controller talking green pilot in for crash landing. Make us feel tension of situation! tension underlined. WHEEL JACK might be your up-through-the-ranks master sergeant. Say acout 40 years old? A tough old pro who can fix or fly anything. His normal assignment teams him with Bumble Bee, a much less experienced younger Autobot, for whom he has a strong paternal affection. Here Bumble Bee is in trouble. Mechanical problems are making his landing difficult. WHEELJACK, on the ground, attempts to talk him down. Some words of the dialogue have been crossed out and shorter more direct one written in. [Pen note] ON R/T (Radio)

Alright, stop talkin', tighten your shocks, and listen to me. You're gonna be okay. Just do what I tell you. Now, ya see that levver down on the floor…? Those pedals either side of it operate the torsion system. Got that…? Okay…gently.. apply pressure to the (SHARPLY) Gently, I said!!! Shoesh!!! (TO SELF) Wait'll I get you down on the ground…!

SOUNDWAVE This page has been doodled on more than the others [Pen notes] Maybe: Think 1st reading that comes to mind, then turn that on its head. The last part all underlined twice. More computer then robot! SOUNDWAVE has no particular age. Of all the robots in the show, he's the least human-like -- the most computerized. Something of a data base, information storage, and communications center all wrapped up in one body. Tending toward being dispassionate. (This is tough. The gamut of computer personalities has been well explored. We're very open to new approaches.) In this cut, we hear some of the informational material Soundwave will handle. Pen notes: some shapes indicating sound affects, and a pronunciation for Iacon "EYE-A-CON"

Attention, Laser Beak… Prepare for flight. Destination: Iacon. Operation: Assimilation. (A WARNING SIGNAL SOUNDS) Laser Beak, Autobot alert!… Transformation required… transformation required. (THE SITUATION RETURNS TO NORMAL) Disclosure averted. Continue reconnaisance under strategic support. Report all contacts. Soundwave complete.

Below, a doodle frames the pound signs that end the page.

These character direction sheets for G1 are so cool

(Source)

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden: Chapter 4

Return to Chapter 3.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist

Chapter 4

You fucking idiot, Taehyung cursed himself when everything clicked. He knew that name. Stintsons. Fuck! He even wrote it down, double-underlined it so he could come back to it. He had the missing piece in his fucking hands for two days. He could have saved you from this. All he had to do was just been a detective for a fucking second, instead of fucking around with his thoughts of fucking his married client.

“He understands,” Mina’s gazed moved to Taehyung when your face showed no signs of overcoming confusion. He could see you turn to him in his periphery, but he didn’t look back. He had no time now to sympathize or explain, or to feel embarrassment or shame for not picking up on the connection sooner.

“We have no idea what he’s been up to, or what he does, and we don’t want to know,” Taehyung spoke, trying to keep his voice from vibrating in anger. “Let us go. We won’t talk to anyone; we’ll forget he exists. Erase him.”

“What?!” you breathed out at his proclamation. He winced wishing you had just kept still instead.

“I don’t think so,” said Mina. “Like I said, you showing up today is of great convenience to me, given the circumstance. I’m going to need you to do something for me first.”

Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes. When it comes to the mob, you never just “do something first.” That “doing something” leads to more doings, to incrimination, until you’re trapped, in jail or dead.

“I’ll do it. Whatever you want, just let her go. She doesn’t need to be apart of this,” he finally adjusted his tone towards Mina in his attempt at a plea. The corner of her mouth pulled up in a smug satisfaction to finally see him grovel.

“She’s already involved,” Mina said as she turned to walk out of the room. “It’s you I don’t need. So, you decide how long you’ll be sticking around. But…” she pointed her finger towards you, “…she’s not going anywhere.” The two burly men followed her, closing the door behind them, leaving you alone. But Taehyung knew they would be back soon.

“What does she want?” you turned to Taehyung the moment the door closed. “Is she going to kill us?”

“I know we just met,” Taehyung cut you off before you could spin out. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to listen to everything I say from here on.”

“I do trust you, Taehyung,” you responded without missing a beat. His gaze darted to your eyes immediately, shocked by how easily those words slipped from your tongue, knowing that trust was something he wasn’t worthy of. “But you heard her. She doesn’t need you. You should leave if she’ll let you.”

“No,” he said firmly, ensuring you received the message without question. “This is my fault. I’m gonna get you out of this.”

“It’s not your…” your retort was interrupted when the door swung open with an industrial squeal.

The two men had returned. The brute, the one who had clocked Taehyung not long ago with his fist, pulled a knife off his waist and headed towards you. Your body tensed, leaning back into the chair as if you would be able to escape him.

“No!” Taehyung called, his heart beginning to pound. “No!” he called again, this time pulling hard at the ties around his wrists, nearly breaking skin as he did.

The man reached you, and with a strong grip pinned your arm still against the chair. He then dug the blade between your wrist and the zip-tie, and with a smooth flick the band snapped in half and fell underwhelmingly to the floor.

Taehyung let out a heavy breath, and he was fairly sure you did to. They were just releasing you from your confines, but he wanted to kick the man’s ass for being so fucking dramatic about it.

Once your second wrist was free, he turned the blade around, pointing the handle in your direction to take it. Rubbing your wrists, you looked back up at him, unsure what he was asking. The man nodded in Taehyung’s direction, and taking the blade, you understood what he was asking.

“Don’t try anything funny,” he said as you knelt before Taehyung and worked away at relieving his wrists of the zip-ties.

As Taehyung watched your trembling hands do so, his mind began to wander and plot. What if he took the knife from you? Could he overpower these brutes? Sink the blade into their necks? Take you by the hand and make a break for the exit? Adrenaline began to course through his veins as he thought about it, his body on edge ready to act the moment the second tie was removed – but, as he looked down at you, the dried blood still staining your face and hair, he realized that if you were both going to make it out in one piece, he would need to take a softer, more rational approach.

Now both released, you handed the knife back to your captor who returned it to its sheath. He then roughly grabbed you behind the elbow and pushed you in the direction of the door before he turned to Taehyung to do the same.

You walked down a long corridor, the floor covered in an aged carpet tile and the walls a large, off-white brick. You were in an office.

Is this…? Taehyung thought to himself until a door opened and you were both pushed out into the sunlight. It was. You were at Stintsons… Ezra’s office to be exact.

“Take this,” someone shoved an old cellphone into your hands. So old it had one of those walkie-talkie features on it. He flicked the dial for channel 04 and you could hear a static beep. “Don’t turn it off. Follow everything we say.” He then ushered you towards a car.

“You’ll drive,” someone slapped a set of keys into Taehyung’s hand and pushed him as well in the direction of the car. “Watch for speed bumps.”

Fuck, Taehyung said under his breath.

He climbed into the driver’s side, with you sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat. His eyes scanned the car quickly for anything that could be of value before checking the mirrors. He could see people climb into an SUV behind you. He looked forward and saw another party doing the same in a truck ahead.

“You’re gonna take Industrial to the 17, then make a right at the second light,” a voice came through the soundwaves.

Taehyung took a long breath through his nose, then closed his eyes as he pressed the clutch and turned the ignition. The engine – to his relief – roared to life without incident. He sure as fuck hoped Mina’s people knew what they were doing.

Before he put the car in first, he looked over to you. He didn’t know yet if he should tell you, but you looked calm – given the circumstance – as you sat next to him in your hoodie, holding the phone in your palm.

“Tuck your hair into your sweater,” Taehyung said. “Then pull your hood all the way up.”

You looked back at him inquisitively, but you did as he asked – brushing the strands off your face and tucking it all into the hood as he pulled the car out into the street.

“Pull it down as much as you can,” he insisted. “And look down the whole time we’re driving. Don’t look up at the CCTVs.” You understood then, he wanted you to hide from the cameras. It seemed counterintuitive, given that you were the ones being held captive, but you said you’d listen.

“How about you?” you inquired, noting he had nothing to protect his identity.

“Check the glove box,” he said, and you did. Finding it empty, but you didn’t stop there. You check the centre console, then stretched into the back, dipping your hands into the seat pockets in search of anything you could use.

“Ah ha!” you exclaimed as you returned to the front with a ballcap brandishing the Stintsons company logo across the front.

He took the cap and popped it onto his head, pulling the beak down as much as he could to hopefully protect his face enough.

“Take the next left,” a voice came through the phone again. Taehyung did as he was asked but noticed the SUV behind him had continued on straight, leaving your tail. You notice the truck you had been following hadn’t taken the left either.

“Why are they just leaving us like this?” you asked.

“There’s a bomb in this car,” he replied.

“What?!” you exclaimed. “How do you know that?”

“Stintson’s is just a front for the Uzo-Tuk.”

“You mean the gang?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded. “They’re more than a gang. They’re a powerful crime ring. Drugs. Money. Weapons. People.”

“You better make that fucking light,” the voice came through the phone again. Taehyung peered up to see the yellow light too many meters ahead of him. But he did as he was asked, hitting the gas and speeding through the intersection. You grabbed the handle above the door, holding on for life and to your breath as the car rushed the intersection.

You made it through, though. An angry screech of a horn and a fuck you from a pedestrian you made it through the light as instructed.

“You think Ezra knew it was a front?” you asked when your stomach had settled from the rush.

“He was supposed to do a job for them, Y/N,” he didn’t mean for his tone to come off as patronizing, but it did. “I think he more than knew.”

“How do you know there’s a bomb?”

“It’s just their M.O. They park a car next to a target and then set it off remotely.”

“Was this what Ezra was supposed to do for them?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s on the next corner. Pull up to the curb as close as you can,” the final instruction came through the phone. “Then walk through the alley across the street and up the hill. Bring the phone.”

“Get out as soon as we park,” Taehyung said as he pulled the car towards the curb. “Keep your head down, take my hand. Don’t run.”

The car had barely reached a halt when you swung the door open. You made your way around the front as Taehyung close the driver’s door behind him. You took his hand as he had asked, kept your face low, and he guided you in a hurried stride across the street and towards the alley. The crumbled road ended in just a few metres, and led to a steep, dusty staircase that led from to a parking lot that elevated above the buildings. Henchmen greeted you when you reached the top, grabbing you roughly and dragging you towards the rest of the group.

Several of them held beers in their hands or a joint in their mouth while they laughed and joshed as if they were at a party. You had stayed glued to Taehyung’s side the best you could. He assumed you, smartly, were trying to stay out of the line of any of their sights. But it didn’t work. Taehyung watched as one of them, he appeared to be the leader, adorning a white tank exposing his sleeves of tattoos, looked over to you next to Taehyung and in an instant he knew he wasn’t going to leave you be.

“Hey, girly,” he called to you. “Come here for a second.”

“Leave her alone, man,” Taehyung groaned, trying to be as non-cholent as possible. But the man didn’t like that. So he walked up to the two of you, adjusting his presence to appear as menacing as he could, and pointing his finger in Taehyung’s face.

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you… MAN,” he said, and Taehyung almost laughed at his pathetic display of macho-ness. “Come here,” he said again to you, but this time grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you away. Strong hands grabbed Taehyung from behind, being sure he wouldn’t follow or try something. The tattoo’d man brought you to a spot on the ledge, so you could oversee the buildings below with perfect clarity. “You see that?” he pointed down to the street. “That’s the car you drove, right?” You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to answer. Instead, he pulled a phone from his pocket, tapped through the buttons until he handed it to you. “When I say, push the 'call' button.”

“Don’t fucking do it, man,” Taehyung called out. “Don’t make her do it!” How fucking cruel could these people be? Taehyung could see your expression change as you realized what was happening. You weren’t being asked to call someone – he wanted you to set off the bomb.”

“No. No, no, no,” you refuted as you pushed the phone away from you. “No, please. I can’t do that.”

“C’mon, baby. You can,” he patronized you with a disgustingly flirtatious tone. Taehyung jerked, trying to get a heavy hand off his shoulder.

“She’s not apart of this!” Taehyung called out again. “Just leave her out of it!” The hands holding him tightened their grip and he tried again to shake them off, but it only earned him a solid punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and kiltered over.

“Don’t!” you screamed when another one kicked Taehyung hard in the ribs, and you too tried to break away to come to his side, but the man had you held tightly. You turned and spat in his face. It was instinctive. You didn’t even realize you’d done it until it was too late. You didn’t have the time to consider how reckless it was, but before you could even think of what to do next a heavy hand clapped hard across your jaw, knocking you flat onto the earth.

“Fuck you!” Taehyung spat as he swung and arm trying to injure anyone near him.

Then… he heard a click, and his heart stopped.

He looked back. You were still on the ground. Mr. Tattoos standing above you, his arm stretched forward, in his hand a silver gun, arrogance lining his features, and rage making his veins visibly pop even under their array of ink. He wasn’t pointing the gun at you though. He was pointing it at Taehyung.

Everyone at the scene froze. It felt like someone had hit the pause button on a movie. It was possible at that moment that oxygen was no longer a human requirement, since no one on scene was taking any in.

“Stand up,” tattoos spoke, his command directed at you. Taehyung watched as your gaze followed from the gun to the place it was pointed, and when you saw it was pointed at Taehyung, when you realized that if you didn’t behave then something terrible was going to happen, you pulled yourself from the ground.

Taehyung wanted to call out again, but the stakes were too high now. But it hurt him to think about what this was going to do to you. Hurt him more knowing he could have been the one to keep you from this.

“Take this,” the man said as he handed you back the phone. “And when I say… you fucking push the button. Or else, your boyfriend here is dead.”

You looked back at Taehyung one last time. Your eyes filled with terror, and already filled with guilt and grief. Taehyung could tell you were asking him if it was alright. He nodded solemnly, although he didn’t know what your decision was going to be. Him? Or those innocent people, down there, on the street.

“Okay,” said tattoos. “Push it.”

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Robotic Friendship - Chapter 8

Summary: The Autobots get a super virus on their computer system. Raf's oldest sister is brought in to help.

Pairing: Ratchet x OC (platonic), Soundwave x OC (platonic)

Word Count: 907

Warnings/Disclaimers: None for this chapter. Just some fluff.

Masterlist

June packed up her bag and Ratchet sent her back to the hospital. Nikki sat on the couch quietly looking at her bandaged hand. The stinging had subsided, but it still hurt. It had turned into one of those dull but annoying pains that pulsate harshly. Miko was off to the side leaning on the railing, sheepishly looking down at the floor. The room remained silent minus the sounds of Ratchet shuffling around to check on the other Autobots. Jack was pacing around slowly on the platform. He was growing nervous with no one talking.

"So uh… Who wants to play a video game?" he asked with an awkward smile.

He sat down on the couch next to Raf who was curled up in the middle of it close to his sister. Jack tuned on the game system and picked up the two controllers. He offered one to Nikki first. She just looked over at him blankly shaking her head. He tried to offer them to Raf who also declined. Sighing, he tossed the controllers back on the table unknowingly knocking off the Energon shard that still had been unnoticed. The room went quiet again. Bulkhead was the next to pipe up, "Is there a movie anyone wants to watch?" His checkup had already finished.

No one responded. Nikki wiggled her fingers to stop the pounding in her hand. She stood up and walked to the railing to watch the Bots. Ratchet was currently fixing Bumblebee who was hurt the most, just not so badly he needed immediate attention. She leaned on the railing lightly looking off in their direction but not actually paying attention. Bumblebee beeped upon noticing her. She did not respond. Ratchet finished and turned to Nikki. Ratchet finished and turned to Nikki. "Is there something you need?" he asked rhetorically agitated by the recent events.

She blinked a few times removing the glaze from her eyes. "Hm?"

Ratchet's face scrunched up with a hint of worry. He vented softly as his shoulders fell limp. He was not sure he wanted her to go home that night… For medical reasons of course.

Optimus stepped forward to lift the silence that had descended. "Nikki, are you going to be alright?" He was unsure she was taking the shock very well from meeting the Decepticons for the first time. "Y-yeah… I will. But…" She paused pursing her lips together in thought.

"Yes?"

"Would I be able… To stay here… Just for tonight?"

The Bots looked up in surprise at Optimus wondering what he would decree. Miko jumped out of her nervous skin excitedly. 'We could all stay the night! It'll be awesome!"

Jack stared at her oddly. "A slumber party at the Autobot base. That sounds realistic."

She scowled at him, "Ah, come on!"

"Oh no, Miko!" Bulkhead butted in. "You have school tomorrow. And what about your host parents?"

"You guys already drive us to school anyways. Besides, I can just tell them I have to stay with a friend for a group project. They're too scared of me to question it~"

"She has a point. At least on her first two statements," Ratchet replied shifting his eyes nervously. Arcee looked at him in disbelief while Nikki almost smiled because of him.

Optimus raised a servo to quiet the group down. Raf was already not talking wondering what had gotten into his sister. "If it would give you peace of mind for everyone to remain here, Nikki, then you may."

Nikki nodded, and Miko jumped up victoriously. She stuck her tongue out at Bulkhead starting a round of fun bickering. Nikki plopped back down on the couch smiling softly. "Now who wants to play a game?"

Raf laughed and grabbed the controllers. He handed one to Nikki. He went to offer the other one to Jack who had just gotten on the phone with his mother. He kept the controller for himself and loaded a racing game onto the console. Jack stood up hastily and walked away from the game noise.

Wincing slightly, Nikki gripped the game controller and started the game. Raf bumped into her while leaning like it would help him make the turn better. She giggled and nudged him away, inadvertently causing her own car to wipe out. Losing the race, she huffed playfully as Jack sat back down. He cleared his throat and tried quietly to say, "My mother will be joining us after her shift."

Miko spun around on her heels hearing Jack over her picking on Bulkhead. "What?" She stomped over to him. "It was supposed to be just us!"

Nikki opened her mouth to say, "No. Technically, you invited yourself," but forced her jaws closed.

Jack raised his hands defensively, "She wants to make sure her newest patient is O.K.!"

Before Miko could speak anymore, Optimus ended the argument. "If June feels it necessary to watch over Nikki, then it may be a good idea to allow it." Not only that but he had a bad feeling about Soundwave meeting Nikki. He would not discuss it around the humans. It was later that evening when he would mention it to Ratchet who hadn't even thought of that but would agree with his friend.

Miko pouted and went back to her spot by the railing. Bulkhead grinned and poked her in the back, making fun of her minor defeat. Nikki smiled thinking that things were going back to normal.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter nineteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): jimin redemption arc?... have y’all heard of that song... Promise..? yeah.

Word count: 5324

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

The company garage contains a normal amount of vehicles for the time of the day, and practically no one in sight as you and Yoongi reach his Audi. With his hand untangling from yours to find the keys in his pocket, you use both appendages to rub your face and muffle a loud groan into the skin. The electrical clicking of the car unlocking sounds as Yoongi turns back to face you, eyebrows perked.

“It’s catching up with you?” He asks though it sounds more like a comment. You just nod your head, still covering the majority of your face as the conversation plays over and over. Yoongi’s head tilts also thinking back upon the situation, and frankly not finding any of what you told Yerin wrong. Taehyung’s likely to get unnerved behind chuckles when he hears about the potential contract troubles you intend to land yourself into, but Yoongi completely respects the method to break free of the whole ordeal.

No matter what, SoundWave is not going to budge on their side. He imagines they’re willing to take the secret to the grave without ever leaning for a second in the direction of your favor. Though the risk to your reputation is high, Yoongi understands the current view perception you have in the public is not good already anyways. At least with this method there exists a greater likelihood of you being recognized as the victim Yerin made you into, and not the issue she tries to manipulate the world into seeing.

“How the hell am I supposed to explain myself in front of the press, or anything like that? What was I thinking?” Your hands fall away to clump into a tight bind in front of your torso.

“You were thinking that you shouldn’t be blamed for this anymore.” Yoongi’s feet come into your view as he steps closer. Gently his fingertips find your sides, easing tiny waves of warmth as he gently rubs. Ducking down to your level he continues fervently. “And none of this is your fault, so you should do this if it’s what you want to, angel.”

“But what if no one even believes me?” You glance up at him with worry, biting the corner of your lip. “Everyone already hates me, Yoon.” The crack in your tone triggers a small shake in your shoulders. Hushing the tension trying to stir, Yoongi’s lips place a small fluttering kiss against your forehead as his hands move you an inch or so closer. Your balled fists find his chest, pressing flat to feel the serene beat.

“I don’t doubt the majority of people will believe you though, baby.” He murmurs against your skin, dipping another kiss against your cheeks then they tighten from an unsure frown. “If SoundWave doesn’t say anything back then it proves you’re telling the truth. If they try to sue you, then it proves you’re telling the truth because the confidentiality clause of your contract is going to get into the public.”

“I’m just scared that whatever I say to a reporter is going to get twisted.” You lift your eyes up, finding Yoongi’s. “But if I try to do a livestream to explain this all, well,” You shrug, sighing. “Knowing me I’ll probably look super nervous and not explain the situation right.”

“No, a livestream wouldn’t be best.” Yoongi nods. “I know a couple of reporters who have always been good to me whenever I work with them. Let’s talk to one of them, alright? That way you can speak in a comfortable environment.”

You bite your lip. The closeness of this path’s fruition sends a rumble through your chest, as the wavering perspectives clash. The prickling feeling of guilt lingers, raising the volume of the distressed idols of SoundWave desperate to keep you quiet. One person speaking out to ruin hundreds of employees who were manipulated to various degrees.

“I need to tell Jihyo.” Your hands grip wrinkles on Yoongi’s shirt. The corner of his mouth divets in worry of your somberly building expression. “Give her and her group some warning.” Thoughts of their bright faces during promotion periods and cheerfully thanking you personally after award shows cross your mind. “And,”

Memories flood of early months in your career at SoundWave. Its modest appearance in those days feels reminiscent of a home left behind. The trainees were all uncertain, and the couple of active idols appreciated a moderate level of popularity. Long hours of work between you and others in the production department of music collected a camaraderie that cheerfully flourished with the appearance of consistent success. Pieces of a puzzle found their correct locations one after another creating a gleaming picture that shined when Jimin debuted.

You can easily remember the amount of detail into his debut album. The active involvement he made to attend as many meetings as possible despite not being allowed to contribute input where music was concerned. Bright and eager he’d run around the building with complete excitement for his debut that gained exponential traction from the concept photos alone.

More often than not the small handful of employees remaining in the building in the middle of the night would consist of him and you, so there was ample time to connect. Though initially you think he stuck around you with an apologetic ambience. Discontented by his lack of help while you conceptualized the lyrics of his album. And you told Jimin it was more than alright for you, because you were just as excited for so many of your songs to be used.

Genuinely expressing your willingness to let any of them perform the music under their names because at least it was being heard. At least you were doing what you wanted to do, modestly or not. You told him names weren’t important because you knew and that was enough.

“I need to tell Jimin.”

The tension in your hands drifts away, replacing itself with an airy nervousness. Scrambling in your mind, thoughts crash from the surprise of your candor. Yoongi grips your wrists, gently encapsulating them like a cushion for your wandering head. You look up at him as he maneuvers your arms down between the two of your bodies. Tangling your hands together, he nods slightly, the shadow of an empathetic smile barely visible.

“Yeah. You do.”

“Because I owe it to them, though-” He nods again, squeezing your hands.

“I know. I didn’t think anything of it, angel. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Yoongi,” Your eyebrows crease, feeling bothered to leave this issue so simply. “You mean more to me.”

“You really,” He chuckles. Smile shifts into a softer tone. “Don’t need to explain yourself. I believe you-”

“But I don’t want you to worry-- or force away showing me that it makes you uncomfortable.” You remove your hands to rest them on Yoongi’s shoulders, watching as his smile dissipates. “I’m telling them--I’m telling Jimin because I don’t think it’s right of me to wreck their careers without even telling them that I want to tell the truth about everything. I’m not telling him because he means a lot to me, I’m telling him because I owe him that. You mean the most to me.”

Yoongi’s lips tighten to a line, feeling his heartbeat ricochet. He lets his arms find their way around you when you guide your lips against his. The worry in his throat lingers until the connection causes a dispersion. Like tiny enamored words silently press onto his lips, Yoongi can visualize your sincerity as your fingers individually squeeze onto his shoulders.

“You’ve always been beside me.” Your voice emits a clinging sensation as you speak mumbles on his mouth. “I’m so happy I’m with you, Yoon.”

Stinging blurs in his eyes, and Yoongi travels his thumbs to your cheeks to brush away the dots of glittery tears. “You’re sweet, angel.” He catches the slight widening of your eyes, but ignores the meaning to cover every instance of tears on your skin with a kiss. “You don’t need to cry about this.”

“They’re your tears, baby.” Yoongi hums as your words enter his ears, and he blinks to release another silent stream. Lips purse as your thumbs now rub along his face. He watches your gentle smile with a growing fondness clenching in his chest.

“I really did believe you before you told me that.” You listen to the murmur, glancing up to his eyes when his hands grip your sides. “I don’t doubt you.” A smile blossoms in front of your gaze, and Yoongi shrugs bashfully. “But what you said clearly made me really happy.”

Heat crawls in patches on your cheeks, as you peck another kiss against his lips intending for it to be a short moment before you speak again. However, Yoongi holds you there, following your movement and deepening the connection with endeared craving. One of your hands falls to his chest feeling the deep beat, and Yoongi’s thumbs press on the divet between your hip bones, lapping in the moment.

Parting allows breaths to flood the air along with his whisper, “You’re precious to me.”

“Are you going to try and make me cry now?”

“No,” He chuckles, shadowing his lips along the side of your mouth. “I just feel lucky someone like you came into my life.”

“Yoongi,” Your hand pats against his heart and he holds it in place with his larger appendage. You pout as he pulls his head back to properly look at you. “I really will cry--what are you smiling about that for?”

“You’re so cute.” Your growing pout only serves to promote the grinning expression. You sigh, trying to avoid his fond stare so your face doesn’t redden more.

“Sorry, I made you stand in the background of that whole thing, by the way.”

“That’s alright-- you were a badass, I enjoyed it.” Yoongi laughs as you shake your head and attempt to push him away from you out of embarrassment. “I have to meet Hoseok in about an hour and a half to tour a building.”

“Wow, you’re both working quickly.” You say in surprise as Yoongi releases your hand from the hold against his chest. He nods sheepishly,

“Well everything will take a while to get together so it’s best to start sooner than later. Do you want to tag along, angel?”

“Doubt Hoseok wants an audience.”

“Please,” Yoongi chuckles as he rubs his bangs from his face. “He won’t mind at all. Besides he likes you a lot anyways. He thinks you’re more fun than me.”

“Don’t pout.” You smile, poking your thumb into his cheek as Yoongi bitterly says his last sentence. He rolls his eyes, allowing your hand to remain on his face as you continue speaking. “I’ll go, but just because I want to hold your hand while I figure out what I’m going to say to Jimin and Jihyo.”

“So don’t talk to you while we’re touring.” Yoongi chuckles as you nod with complete seriousness of the idea. “That’s fine, I like having you around in general anyways.” He says nodding in the direction of his car steps away.

“Oh, just to look at?” You question over the top of his car as Yoongi rolls his eyes and simply slides into the driver seat. You stare inquisitively at him when you join, refraining from your joking smile to appear on your face. Dipping your head forward to the dash to remain in his peripherals, you nearly let out a giggle as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah-”

“Jerk.” You smile at Yoongi when he shakes his head holding back his own laughter. “I thought you just said I was precious to you-”

Yoongi kisses you to interrupt the sentence, content with the sight of your flustered smile as he pulls away. “Most precious, angel.”

---

Your groan muffles against soft fabric, while your legs curl beneath the warmth of your comforter. Clinging your hands tighter, they feel the rumbling of chuckles that your ears detect languidly above your head. One eye peeks open with enough time to watch Yoongi’s arm fall away to the mattress from where he tried to ease your body off his own. He simply looks up at the ceiling as the hand connected to his arm you lie on rubs tiny strokes on your back

“Thought you said you were going to sleep in.” Your voice lulls and you only curl closer to his frame. Yoongi hums vaguely, angling his face towards you so the view of his slowly waking expression reveals itself with the softness of sunlight through the windows painting it warmly.

“It’s almost one. We both have slept in, angel.” Yoongi says watching with amusement as your eyes quickly widen from surprise. He watches with interest as you pick yourself up on one arm to look over his body to the bedside clock corroborating his statement. “Sleep well?”

“I guess too well.” Your quiet voice is twinged with muted embarrassment, but considering how easily you drifted into a deep sleep you aren’t remorseful.

“It’s Sunday, so it doesn’t really matter anyways.” Yoongi admits with a sigh as he stretches both arms out in the air above you both.

“Well, it sort of matters since the reporter is coming in a couple of hours.” Your eyes fall back to Yoongi when the sensation of his hands against your waist register. Lazily he brings you down to him so that one of your arms presses between your bodies. He kisses you gently, then smiles when you immediately kiss along his jaw. “Guess what.”

“Hmm?” He barely manages to voice the retort, focusing more on the sudden spark of energy in your irises as you smile down at him.

“I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“Better than the burnt takeout you reheated the other day?” Yoongi’s head tilts, not bothering to hide the smile as you pout from his teasing.

“With that attitude, you won’t find out.” You cover his protestint mouth with a kiss, then scoot off the bed. “But you do have to help me.” You state as you press a finger to your phone screen. The sight free of notifications leaves a small well in your stomach.

Jihyo instantly responded to the text you left her with a phone call. A lengthy rant of words to you, dirtied with things you doubt she meant but hurt to hear all the same. The pleas she said felt more painful to listen to, each one taking a blunt hit against the wall of conviction in your head. Not managing to break through, but difficult to shut down.

The longer text message sent to Jimin, you anticipated a similar phone call in return. With the history between the two of you, there was little to stop the assumption that Jimin would wholeheartedly use that as a way to feel comfortable enough to call. This was the decision he was so afraid of that it ended the relationship between you both. Even with what he told you last at the cafe--even when he promised to support your decisions in the future, you can’t imagine this would sit so silently in his throat.

“Did he respond?” Yoongi’s voice brings you back, as his arms do a quick job to unconsciously comfort you. Encircling your hips, he brings you a step towards where he sits at the edge of the bed, letting his head rest against your waist.

“Nope.” You shimmy an arm free so that you can tangle the hand within Yoongi’s unkempt dark locks. “I’m not really waiting for him too, though. I still want to talk to the reporter.”

“Bugs you though?”

“I just expected him to say something--be mad at me like Jihyo was.” You lean yourself to sit against his thigh, while Yoongi lifts his head to look at you. The phone goes to the bed with a small toss as you look out the window at the rich summer day. It moves in slow motion like most Sundays with people casually out and about relaxed. You feel the same. “I’m kind of surprised that I don’t care that much about what Jihyo said in retrospect. Whatever Jimin decides to do too… I don’t feel weighed down by it really.”

“I was thinking that may be the case with how easily you fell asleep last night.” Yoongi says simply, shaking his head as you roll your eyes from the idea he’s joking. “Y/N, I mean you looked really settled. Sure about everything.”

“Sleeping me should teach awake me a thing or two then-” Your voice turns into a small yelp as Yoongi lightly pinches your hip to cut you off. Throwing your voice into a longer squeal, Yoongi falls back on the bed taking you with him.

“You’re sure of yourself either way.” Yoongi says as you shift around atop him to lie more comfortably on his chest. “You’re going to say what you want to, put SoundWave in its place, and go on to be an incredible songwriter and producer that everyone will finally get to see.”

The thought fills you with an excited breath, held back with a smile grateful for Yoongi's words. His positive outlook assists to diminish worry every time, but you can’t understand where the confidence for you comes from. You doubt that he would tell you something just to pacify worries if the words weren’t based in some type of understanding. “Why do you believe in me so much?”

Yoongi suddenly frowns at the question, though not irritated but instead perplexed. When he considers the inquisition, he doesn’t find his answer to be anything substantial or groundbreaking. He doesn’t need to tell you that talent alone is more than half the reason why he thinks so highly of where you intend to go in your career, because your work speaks for itself. But beyond that, what he believes feels very simple.

“You haven’t ever given up.” Yoongi says. In the following silence he grows more convicted to speak on as your hands curl against his chest and your eyes fill with surprise. “If it hadn’t been SoundWave that found you first, then you would already be successful. You’re talented, passionate-- I can’t see you stopping until you were happy with where you’re at, and that’s what you’re doing now. You deserve what you’re aiming for.”

A doorbell interrupts your chest from fluttering at Yoongi’s words. Your heads turn in the direction of the door in the other room. Whipping your gaze back to Yoongi, your voice fills with a surprised worry,

“Wait, is the reporter here already?” You stand up from him, rushing to a dresser to retrieve a pair of jeans. “I just woke up-- what’s he doing here this early,” You ramble along as Yoongi sits up with fretting brows.

“What if it’s not even him, angel?” He asks, but the words fall on deaf ears while you simply scramble into the bathroom. Yoongi sighs, shaking his head in amusement as he walks to the front of the bed for his sweatpants. “I’ll go let him in.”

“Give him water and apologize to him for me!” You call out frantically, missing Yoongi’s call of agreement as you turn on water to brush your teeth. Within minutes you manage to have your teeth cleaned and face washed. You pat a towel against your skin, thinking over the words that you really had yet to plan completely. You sigh, tossing the towel aside and stepping back into your bedroom to search for shirt that wouldn’t have wrinkles on it like the one currently hanging off your shoulders.

“Baby,” Yoongi’s voice startles you as you glance up. He stands at the entrance of the bedroom, hand clamped on the doorknob.

“You can use my kitchen to get him a snack if he wants-”

“It’s not the reporter.” Yoongi shakes his head, entering inside the room with the door shutting behind him. The material in your hands falls back into the dresser as you straighten up, looking towards your boyfriend in confusion. “It’s Jimin.”

“What?” Your voice practically gasps the shock as a similar stupor overtakes your face. Your eyes narrow, glancing towards the closed bedroom door then back to Yoongi. “Wait, he’s here? Like, right now?”

“He wants to talk to you.” Yoongi continues in an even voice, but you can tell that he’s evidently not comfortable with Jimin’s reasonings. For the smallest second your mind wanders about the direction of Yoongi’s worries, but his concerned, gentle voice helps you understand entirely. “If you don’t want to, then I’ll go tell him to go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to.”

The surprise of the situation leaves with Yoongi’s words. Calming your thoughts back to an even ground, you close the drawer shut, leaving your hands atop the furniture for a moment. Your head shakes gently, “No, I’ll talk to him. That’s okay.”

Jimin stands in your living space as you walk from the hallway. Blue hair is barely discernible as it hides within the confines of a cap on his head. Like most people around this time of the day, he’s dressed appropriately as though he plans to leisurely walk about after his stop at your apartment. He notices you walk in and takes no effort to stop the small smile that comes on his face. The sight of his complexion makes your mind stammer for a reason you can’t quite pinpoint.

“Just woke up?” He asks with his familiarly casual tone as you walk around the couch to meet him where he stands not too far from the front door.

“Maybe,” You can’t help the tiny reply out of embarrassment of your appearance. “Don’t tell me I look like it.”

“You don’t.” The teasing intonation laced in his words highlight the growing smile on his face. “Sorry about waking you up, I thought you’d be awake by now.” He explains, glancing beyond you as padding feet come into your hearing. You look back as Yoongi walks over to the kitchen quietly, and begins scavenging for items to begin cooking. You roll your eyes and bite back a nervous laugh as you turn back towards Jimin.

“We were already awake, it’s no big deal. But what brings you?” You ask, before shaking your head. “Or, I guess I already have an idea.”

“Yeah,” He nods, then bites his lip thoughtfully. Letting him collect his thoughts, you prepare yourself for the idea of having to retort against him just as you did with Jihyo. You were unprepared entirely that he would come to talk in person about the text message, but you can understand why he feels the need to face you directly. “You’re really going to tell everything about SoundWave?”

“I don’t want everything I did for them to go unrecognized anymore.” You say as though prompted to defend yourself. Readying the next statement, you open your mouth but freeze as Jimin softly nods his head.

“Yeah, I understand that.” In the background of your thoughts, you hear the sound of eggshells cracking and it feels reminiscent of the assumptions in your head feeling ready to shatter. “Actually, I just stopped here before going to the river for the festival. I have a performance tonight.”

“You do?” You dumbly say in a stupor, confused still about the intention of this entire conversation. You expected the argument at Seulgi’s party to replay with louder voices. “Wait, yeah, I knew that. I saw the lineup. Sorry, I’m spacing out here.” You laugh softly, as your hand reaches to rub your neck.

“That’s okay. I came unannounced, after all.” Jimin glances towards the floor while his hands shift in his jean pockets. You watch his lips tighten and his eyebrows narrow and again your heart feels the need to prepare itself. “Do you realize what could happen to your reputation if you say everything?”

Your heart beats in your chest like a loud thump and any other activity in the room seems to go silent at his question. You really don’t want to argue with him about why you’re unwilling to remain quiet with your mouth clamped shut. The last conversation you had with Jimin felt like it cleared the air better between you both, and reverting to harsh words would only leave things sour, but you can’t help it if that’s the case. So you speak freely,

“I know what could happen. I don’t care about that anymore though. I’m tired of letting everyone in charge of us control everything and not let anyone have a say.”

“Us?” Jimin repeats and if you didn’t see his lips contorting into an amused smile you would’ve felt the need to clarify. His head nods, keeping you quiet while you wonder what led him here. “I’m really tired of it too.”

Your lips part as his sentence falls into the air between you. With surprised irises you watch as Jimin rubs the arch of his shoulder and a sheepish smile grows on his lips. “I have a lot less to fall back on than you do, I guess though.”

“What do you mean?” You blurt in confusion, completely uncertain of the direction he intends to take the conversation. Farther and farther from the idea of him coming to talk you out of your plans, your mind drifts to the present where Jimin speaks so differently than what you anticipated.

“I finished making a song with Jeongguk-- well, he let me use his studio to make it, since SoundWave wouldn’t have enjoyed me making one on my own.” Jimin’s lips tighten into a line while he feels the vibration of his emotions behind his ribcage. “Instead of the last song scheduled on my set I’m going to perform it. And before I do that I’m going to apologize to everyone for pretending your music was mine.”

“Jimin,” Your hands clench at your sides while the bulk of your unabashed surprise overtakes your expression. “You’ll-”

“I told you I promise to support whatever you wanted to do.” No allowance for negotiation exists in the bright tone of Jimin’s voice. He smiles on at you as your vision clouds from the stinging feeling of the very late decision to truly take your side despite what it could mean for both of you. “It’d be better for my fans to hear it from me… Maybe some of them will understand where I’m coming from about why it happened, but,” He inhales and you can tell the worry of his efforts being wasted for his own career are weighing down his throat. “In any case, I won’t have to be mad at myself for lying to them anymore.”

You reach for your face to stop the first line of tears escaping your eyes, feeling your shoulders tremble. Without speaking, a comforting hand finds the disturbed shake of your spine where grateful tears well within.

“Jimin,” An inhale interrupts your sentence, as you try not to let your emotions shake your words. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to.” Jimin smiles gently and watching him dip his head to hide beneath his cap’s bill as a hand quickly swipes against his cheeks makes your throat bang bittersweetly. “I should have done this a long time ago, Y/N.” Still under the cover of his hat you hear his lips take in a sharp inhale, before Jimin looks up to you properly and smiles beneath puffy eyes. “I’m just sorry the song I’m going to play is about you.”

“I can handle a diss track, it’s okay-”

“Then you should be able to handle one that isn’t that, just fine.” Jimin exhales, rubbing his hands together as though coming to terms with the gravity of this conversation. He nods his head, “I can’t wait to see you bring down Yerin. Take care of yourself, okay?”

You’re only able to nod, rubbing your eyes free of any remaining tears as Jimin turns on his heel. When he reaches the door, you can imagine a shine as words manage to come from your mouth, “You too, Jimin. You’ll make it-- you have plenty to fall back on, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! I wrote songs, but they wouldn’t have taken off if it wasn’t you singing them. You’re talented too, Jimin.”

As he turns back towards you, Jimin’s complexion glitters with vibrancy that’s new to your eyes. As though a metamorphosis has undergone, Jimin appears reminiscent of the early days that you met him full of optimism, but now without the underlying nervousness. Now ready to simply exist as he wants and let the cards play out. “Thank you, lovely.”

The door shuts behind Jimin, leaving you to rub your face with a confusing mixture of sadness and gratitude for the conversation. The hand left on your back leads you to a small turn to meet the engulfment of Yoongi’s body. You instantly latch your arms around him, squeezing very tightly as you groan against his chest.

“You’re really strong-”

“I can’t believe that just happened!” You look up at him with remaining surprise lingering in your expression. You huff and shake your head. “Really-” Your words muffle when Yoongi rubs his thumb on your cheeks gently to catch any of the remaining tears staining the skin. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I thought I’d have to shove him out of here at some point to be honest-”

“You wanted to,” You ramble into his sentence and meet his pout with a kiss. “What just happened?”

“Another member joined the team, angel.” Yoongi says with a candid tone that makes you giggle against his chest at the obvious uncaring disposition rumbling beneath the surface at the idea of Jimin wearing the same jersey as the two of you.

“Can I say something honestly, but preface it by telling you I love you?” You speak casually, watching as Yoongi’s pouting expression quickly deteriorates and replaces with utter shock as he tilts his head down at you. Confused by his change in attitude, you grip tighter on his back, frown growing on your face as you look on at his widened eyes. “What?”

“You love me?”

“What?” You both drift into silence, simply staring at each other in shock. Your initial sentence replays in your head, and a boulder forms in your throat as you practically choke from your own words. “I,” You literally bite the side of your tongue to will thoughts back into an intelligible assortment in your mind that is not helped by Yoongi’s complete attention still presently peering down at you. “I do.”

“You do-”

“I love you.” Your voice only whispers but it cuts him off completely. Yoongi’s mouth clamps back shut giving your brain a second to pulsate at a high rate until the beginning speckles of a blush start covering his cheeks. You don’t think of speaking again, but words come out, “I really love you.”

Yoongi’s limp hands on your back suddenly slide to your sides, squeezing as the things you say appear to catch up with his head. While you look on at him, the words feel so sweet on your lips that you think you could say it over and over, and the mere fact makes your heart warm in its happy beat. You smile, happy to say it again until Yoongi decisively cuts off the endearment with his lips colliding with yours.

“I love you too,” Yoongi mumbles, smiling into the kiss as your hands drag along the back of his shirt. “So much-” Deepening the kiss, you both find yourselves compliant with the idea of silence so that you can continue in the longing kiss with freshly discovered intimacy.

“Wait,” You tug off of him, turning your head, “Did you turn the stove on-”

“Shit--the butter’s burning-”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​ @xionysus​​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​

[bnhainsert]

Sound Out

Here is part 3 of my story

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: Recitative

Jiro and Hado were both up pretty early, ready to get a start on this case. They both looked through the files given to Jiro before they left for the briefing. Seeing the photos of so many missing people made Hado’s blood boil. She only hoped that they were still alive to rescue.

The two arrived in their hero costumes ready to get started. Hado’s costume wasn’t too complex. Her top half bore a crop top with long sleeves. It was flowy so that She could get deep breaths to project her voice to manipulate those soundwaves. Her bottoms were comfortable black pants with the same blue wave patterns as on her crop top. They were supposed to be soundwaves, but she knew you couldn’t see soundwaves, so she went for a visual representation that most technology could produce. She had her signature black and white headphones to help both cancel out and amplify sound. Attached to the headphones was a very small mic that people could only see if they tried hard enough to find it. Around her waist was a belt with small grey devices that allowed her speak through. If for any reason she couldn’t get too close to a target, she would slap one of them down, get a decent distance away, and speak into her mic, causing the sound to come from the device. If she bent the soundwaves just right, she could sound like anything, or anyone, that she has heard before.

The two heroes sat at the conference table. Hado looked around at other heroes she may or may not have known. She clearly recognized Deku. He was studying the case notes very intently. Hado could understand. She looked just to Deku’s right and saw what looked like a knight in shining armor. Literally. Hado wracked her brain for who this hero was. “Oh yeah! That’s Ingenium! The hero with the built-in engines” She remembered. Ingenium was looking over Deku’s shoulder at the notes as well. The two seemed close.

Jiro leaned over to whisper to Hado. “Most of the heroes here were in class A together. It’s why we communicate so well and why we are so hellbent on catching these villains” She explained. Hado nodded in understanding. She continued to scan the table as more heroes arrived. She started to remember the hero names she had read about before. Uravity was here along with Froppy the frog hero. They were both probably good at reconnaissance for this particular mission. Hado remembered that they would team up quite often.

She was shocked to see Ground Zero here as well. She understood that they were probably in the same class but Ground Zero seemed a little scary and a little too loud for this mission. She kept scanning so as not to make eye contact with him. 

There was Tentacole, the hero who had dupliarms as a quirk. Creati was also present, which made a lot of sense to Hado. Chargebolt managed to take a seat to jiro’s left side. He started chatting her up. Hado decided to stay out of that conversation. “Who else is here....let’s see” .

Eraserhead was here! It had been awhile since she had seen that sleepy face. Jet-black hero Tsukuyomi was here. Tape hero Cellophane was also here. Before she could continue to look around at familiar faces, a detective cleared his throat and started the briefing.

“Thank you all for being here so early. We are trying to piece together this case in a way that makes sense, and helps us advance to some kind of rescue. Most of the upcoming missions will be reconnaissance just to give us any more possible information so that we can surprise the enemy” the detective stated. “I’ve worked closely with most of you now, but I would like to welcome Vocaller to our investigation. She is a hero from a small town but her quirk is incredibly useful”.

Hado stood up and bowed. “Thank you for this opportunity to serve. I hope I will be of use” She said and sat back down. 

“Wait wait but how does your quirk work? How is she going to be helpful?” Chargebolt interrupted, genuinely curious. The detective looked at Hado, seeing if she was comfortable enough to divulge that information to the large group of heroes in the room. Hado sighed and stood back up. “I can manipulate soundwaves. If there are soundwaves present, which unless you live in space are always going to be present, I can bend them to create different frequencies or amplitudes. By doing this I can mimic sounds of things or people I have heard before. I can also basically stop the sound waves in an area to deafen anyone there. Having a quirk based on sound also made me train my ear so I have an acute sense of hearing as well” she explained. “That enough for you sparky?” she jeered.

“Um yeah. That was a lot more than I expected” Chargebolt responded.

“Ahem...anyway Vocaller will be helping us get any kind of new information to help us really crack this case” The detective continued.

The detective turned on the projector, clicking through slides of information. Hado watched as faces from the case file flashed across the screen. They all were different ages and different genders. It was suspicious though that one of the first people ever kidnapped had a quirk that essentially keeps small groups of people hidden. “Were they using this quirk? And if so how? Did they voluntarily do it? Were they held at gunpoint?” Hado thought to herself.

Jiro bumped her with her elbow. “Yo are you okay? You look incredibly confused and upset” Jiro whispered. “I’m just.....I’m stuck on the first person they kidnapped” Hado responded a little louder than a whisper.

“What do you mean you’re stuck on them” snarled Ground Zero.

Hado momentarily jumped from the intense voice directed at her. “I mean....Look at that quirk. A quirk with the ability to keep a small group of people hidden...Don’t you think a villain would jump at the chance to use that quirk? And if they are using it, How are they using it? Is this person doing it voluntarily? Are they holding them at gunpoint?” She explained. “I was wondering the same thing” Deku spoke up. “There’s also someone with the quirk ‘Reset” which can reset an area back to the way it was 5-10 minutes before. It only effects inanimate objects so the people would still be there, but it would be pretty convenient for a villain” Deku continued.

“Those people that were kidnapped are probably being threatened into using their quirks for them” Ingenium interjected. Hado felt a pit in her stomach. “If that really is the case it is incredibly important that we get this job done without being detected. If they find out we are trying to track them they may hurt those that have been kidnapped more than they already have. Chances are they are not dead because their quirks would prove to be very useful. We have to do this right” the detective replied. Most everyone in the room nodded in agreement.Hado looked over to Deku who shared a knowing glance with her. 

“We are splitting you guys into smaller groups and spreading you out across the city to look for suspicious activity. We have several spots that we think may be of interest to them. That where we will station you guys. Vocaller! You will be in the area where we are most certain they will appear” the detective explained.

“Oh god oh god what if I fuck up oh no” Hado’s internal monologue had her sweating and shrinking into herself.

“I’ll go with her” Deku said confidently.

“Why should you get to go where the enemies are most likely to show up?” Ground Zero growled. “Look Ka-...Ground Zero, I think I would be able to work well enough with Vocally that if the need arose, we could use my quirk to fight undetected thanks to her” Deku elaborated. 

“Yeah I think it would be hard to control the soundwaves of a bunch of explosions. Plus I mean....you would see them so it would be a dead giveaway” Cellophane added.

“Tch”.

Everyone got their assignment and were told to start scouting at around 11p.m. that night. Everyone started moving to leave when Deku called out to Vocally. Hado looked at Jiro and Jiro gave her a knowing nod. “I’ll see you later so we can prepare for tonight okay?” Jiro reassured her. Hado nodded but the pit in her stomach had just grown bigger.

“Do you mind if we had another chat?” Deku asked Hado. She couldn’t really say no.

The two pro heroes stayed in the conference room, knowing that it would probably be one of the safest places to have a discussion about the case.

“I saw your face during the briefing. You think something is off too. You think something worse is happening don’t you” Deku pushed. “Woah hold on. Please give me some time to breathe. I’ve just been told that I would be put on the front lines here with the big time criminals. I’ve only ever fought your run of the mill thieves and crooks” Hado said frantically, sitting back down to try and catch her breath. Her chest started to tighten. “Oh god a panic attack? Right now? In front of this incredible pro hero...no please stop...”.

Deku’s face flashed with a realization. Hado was having a panic attack and he had probably caused it. He sat down next to her, took her hand and told her to breath in and out with him. They took a few deep breaths together. “I apologize. I may have pushed a little too hard there. I’m just....just so frustrated” Deki said clenching his fist around Hado’s hand. He looked like he was about to cry.

Hado felt the pressure he was putting on her hand and it helped her calm herself a little bit. “You’re probably the most frustrated one here. I can empathize with that. I know that if people were disappearing in my town and I couldn’t stop it myself, I would feel pretty awful” She told him trying to help with the anxiety plaguing them both.

She pulled her hand away and patted Deku on the back. “Look here’s what I know...”.

They discussed how weird the first few disappearances were. They talked about how it made them feel sick to their stomach, unsure of what was actually happening to these people. Objectively the combined powers of the quirks talked about would probably be why they were so hard to catch or follow. They tried to come up with strategies to get information without alarming the crime syndicate. Hado knew how to sneak around and gather information but this seemed a bit above her pay grade. She was relieved to have Deku there who seemed to know the ins and outs of everything involving heroes.

“So you can deafen people with your quirk, you can manipulate sound waves to make them sound like people or things you’ve heard before,You can amplify the sound waves to push yourself to increase your mobility....Is there anything else you could do that might be helpful in this situation?” Deku questioned her.

Hado went through her quirk in her mind. He had just about listed everything she could do. She was impressed by how observant he was. She tried to think hard about her power. “Creating different sounds at once has been a bit of a struggle for me considering I need to have an idea of both sounds at once happening in my head. The training that takes just to adjust your ears to be able to seperate sounds and analyze them is rough....but it can be done. I’ve done it maybe once before when the situation looked really bleak. I had to close my eyes and concentrate really hard, but it was doable” She revealed.

“Would you be able to make those two sounds happen in two different places?” Deku asked. “Oh....I might be able to do that. Hold on. Let me see if I can try in this small space”.

Hado closed her eyes and thought of 2 different sounds in her mind. She thought of the frequency and the amplitude they would need to be put in opposite corners of the room. Two things she was very familiar with. She had to think. Her voice would be one and her keyboard would be the other. She knew what they each sounded like and visualized the soundwaves and where they would happen. The sound of her voice saying “We will save these people” rang at one end of the room while the faint sound of a piano playing a simple melody barely made itself known on the other side.

Deku’s eyes widened with surprise. “That’s incredible Vocaller! You did it!” he praised. Hado let out a huge puff of air. It gave her a headache to do this much work. Focusing on one sound and manipulating waves in the same area was fine. Working in two different places with two different sounds was a whole new ballgame. “Yeah I did it.....but it took a lot of effort and the piano was no where near as loud as I was hoping I could make it” Hado said clearly disappointed. “But this is so useful! If we need a quick last resort distraction, you can make 2 sounds happen in different areas! It’s perfect!” Deku continued to gush.

Hado gave a small laugh. “You sound like a small kid discovering heroes for the first time” Hado jested. “Well I’m a pro hero and I don’t know everything there is to know about every pro hero. I learn something new every day and I hope that never stops” Deku smiled a bright genuine smile. It made Hado feel warm and safe. His attitude toward his heroing duties made her feel like she could do anything herself as a hero. “Is this what Jiro was talking about?” She thought.

The two sat and talked just a little bit longer before going their separate ways.”Oh hey! Deku!” Hado turned around and shouted to the green hero. “None of this is your fault. We’ll figure this out tonight”

Deku looked surprised again watching Hado as she left. He smiled and nodded to himself. They could do this.  

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6

[dovechim]

so it goes 02

➾ alien!jimin x reader

➾ 6.7k, fluff, smut

➾ a/n: some important revelations in this chapter for later! also, jimin asks: what is love? 👾

➾ summary: Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

➾ 01 | 02 | 03

They’ve given you underwear now, so at least you weren’t embarrassed for nothing.

You’ve been informed by Hoseok that only males live on this part of the planet. The females form a separate colony of their own, and they don’t communicate or keep in touch in any way except for reproduction purposes, where the females get sent over every season. He ever so kindly offered to modify some of the clothing to fit your body a little better, apologising for the oversight on his part.

You could have stayed with him for hours just finding out more about this curious little planet, but you’re perceptive enough to realise that you’d be interrupting Hoseok at work. So you reluctantly ask for directions back to your room and take your leave.

You suppose it’s the same old routine, have a lonely dinner in the confines of your room and fall asleep on the luxurious sheets just waiting to be rudely awoken from this dream, nightmare, whatever it is. You still haven’t made up your mind.

But when you arrive back at your room, you realise that you’ve been left a tablet device with a message on it inviting you to dinner, and while a part of you is relieved at a change of routine, a fleeting moment of trepidation causes you to bury your face into the sheets.

You can’t turn down an invitation like this, who knows what they’d do to you? Besides, it’s not like you can hide in here forever.

Making your way to your closet, you finally change into the outfit that everyone else is wearing, but your fingertips graze the corner of your phone as you slip out of your jeans into the loose white pants provided. You haven’t had the chance to see if it’s still working yet, and while you definitely won’t have any cell service, maybe the more rudimentary functions will come in handy later. Holding your finger to the power button, you turn off your device and slip it into the waistband of your pants, which is thankfully taut enough to secure it before following the directions of the tablet to the dinner hall.

“Ah, what a pleasure it is to finally meet the Earthling.” A blond haired alien seated at the head of the table greets you as you arrive. Unsure of what the aliens would deem as appropriate manners, you can only nod back at him, eyes straying to Jimin who’s seated right beside you.

“Earthling, meet Yoongi. He is the highest rank of us all, and he’s in charge of defence and national security,” Jimin senses that you’re a little nervous, reaching over to pull your chair out for you and helping you to settle in.

“Nice to meet you too, th-thank you for having me.” Glancing around the table, you recognise most of the faces; Hoseok, Taehyung and Jeongguk are also present, which leaves one more face that is unfamiliar.

“Oh, that’s Seokjin, our head chef here,” Jimin follows your gaze to the alien seated opposite you. “He’s been preparing all your meals and sending them up to your room himself, but he got tired of it and decided that you should eat with us instead.”

“I’m sorry for causing you any trouble,” you say carefully, lacing your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “If I’d known, I could have done something, or-“

All six of the aliens are obviously in on something that you’re not, because their marks are all flashing the same kind of sorbet yellow. Glancing at Jimin for the slightest hint, you see that his lips are curved slightly in… amusement? You bite your tongue to stop speaking immediately, terrified that you’d overstepped some custom or said something wrong, or-

“Calm yourself, little Earthling,” Yoongi is the first to speak, and judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t seem at all enraged, so you deem that your life is prolonged, at least for now. You belatedly remember that Jimin had told you they could all communicate telepathically, and you wonder what they’ve been talking about behind your back, or rather, right in front of your face.

“I’m not sure if Jimin has told you or not, but we are all connected telepathically, for ease of communication,” Yoongi carries on, reaching for his utensils, which is a sign for everyone else to do the same. “Our dinners are usually a silent affair, actually, most things on this planet are a silent affair. But I suppose we’ll have to make an exception for you.”

His last sentence is tinged with such ambiguity that you don’t quite know what to make of it, and you only have the gentle yellow marks, that are rapidly fading into a nondescript gray, on his cheekbones to go by. As everyone begins to tuck into their food, the lulling, camaraderie makes you feel a little at ease, relaxed enough to direct a question toward Hoseok.

“Wh- Is there a reason you picked humans to study? I mean, I’m sure there must be a million other species out here, and apart from the genetic similarities, I don’t see much other reason.”

The lavender haired alien considers your question carefully even as Yoongi seems to be listening with piqued interest. His attention on the conversation makes you feel a little ill at ease, and in fact, his entire demeanour, while not unlike his brothers in that very straightforward, no nonsense manner, still puts you off a little.

“Why not Earthlings, then?” A mischievous smile tugs on his lips as Hoseok throws your question back at you, and you roll your eyes at that word again. It was your mistake to start your question off like that.

“You guys seem pretty… peaceful here. Surely you must be baffled by all the unnecessary violence that occurs on Earth that we inflict onto ourselves. Warfare, cold blooded murder, rape, stuff like that. We surely haven’t mastered intergalactic space travel just yet, but if, or when we do, aren’t you afraid that we might bring our depravity here?”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit,” Yoongi comments brusquely.

“Am I?” Something about his tone irritates you, and you can’t help but challenge the highest ranking alien at the head of the table. “Humans are the terrors of the Universe, someone once said.”

“You speak without knowledge of our planet’s own atrocities, Human,” Jeongguk steps in. “Whatever you’ve witnessed on your planet, we have also seen here. Today we may seem peaceful, but other days, we have wars as terrible and depraved as you can imagine, and worse. But there isn’t anything we can do about it, so we just don’t think about them.”

His logic seems incredibly bizarre to you, but no one else seems to find it strange, judging from their silence. “Just… ignore it?”

“We believe in spending infinity looking at the pleasant moments only, Earthling,” Hoseok clarifies. “If I remember correctly, that thing which you call free will; does not exist here. Everything is predestined the way it is, so there is no point harping on unpleasantness. The same reason there is no ‘why’. It just is.”

“And if you Earthlings are any wiser, you might think to adopt such a practice. Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones.” Yoongi’s blatant condescendence once again gets on your nerves, but you’re still trying to digest what Hoseok has revealed.

Yoongi seems satisfied at your silence, his marks burning a bright sorbet yellow as he continues with his meal. You seal your mouth shut, determined to pass the rest of this excruciatingly painful dinner without a single word, but something Taehyung says catches your attention.

“Speaking of atrocities, we should fortify the boundaries, brother. Our current numbers aren’t nearly enough to withstand a potential invasion-“

“Invasion?” You can’t help but blurt, causing all heads to turn toward you. Beside you, out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jimin’s fingers twitching irritably as he cuts into his meal with a little more force than necessary.

“Taehyung, business matters should be kept from the table,” Yoongi starts in an admonishing tone, but it seems very half-hearted, and he doesn’t make an effort to change the subject. “But yes, Earthling. We are currently facing a… volatile period with our neighbouring colonies.”

“Must we really discuss such matters during dinner, Brother?” Jimin’s voice sounds suddenly from next to you, and he sounds so tense that your eyes search the rest of the table, trying to puzzle out the reason for it. “I’m sure we could find a more appropriate place and time.”

Everyone is silent for a moment, but you can feel the tension of held breaths and tentative glances from the others sitting at the table. In the silence that follows, you can only assume that arguments are being held in the soundwaves surrounding your head, and the mental image itself gives you a headache. For a moment this reminds you of jousting matches between two knights, where they’d size each other up with calculating glares and stony expressions before charging and clashing into each other with the force of a battering ram. But what are they really fighting over? It can’t be as simple as merely discussing work issues at the table.

“You are right, Jimin,” Yoongi finally relents. “Besides, we aren’t being hospitable to our guest, are we?”

As the attention shifts towards you, you turn your gaze to the plate in front of you, dissecting your loaf of meat into smaller pieces before picking them up with your utensil with more concentration than required. But you can feel all eyes are still on you even as you chew, and desperate to escape the spotlight, you swallow hard, searching your brain for something to say. It doesn’t help that the taste of the lukewarm food lingers upon your tastebuds like the heat of a humid summer’s day. But before you can blurt out something stupid, Jimin clears his throat.

“So, Earthling, how are you adjusting to our cuisine? Would you by any chance have some tips for Seokjin?”

“That’s right!” The aforementioned alien sits up straighter in his chair, grinning at you in welcome even as he takes in the damage you’ve done to your meal. “Don’t be hesitant, Earthling, I’m very much interested in how you prefer your food to be consumed!”

The strange syntax of his sentences has you fumbling around for an answer. “Um, well… on Earth we tend to eat things that are almost steaming hot, like this meat for instance.”

“Oh, that’s fascinating,” Seokjin is intrigued, leaning in as if to indicate his interest. “What does ‘steaming hot’ mean?”

“It’s… um… we make the molecules in the food vibrate at a certain frequency,” you butcher the scientific explanation horribly, but Seokjin seems to understand, because his face lights up and his marks are a pale buttercup. “It makes them taste better.”

“Ah that’s it! I should try it next time, Hoseok, were you aware of this?” Seokjin has whipped out a device of some sort, similar to the ones Jimin and Hoseok use to take notes on and is currently tapping on the screen. “Make… everything… vibrate at a higher frequency… taste better…”

“Wait, but not dessert though!” Beside you, there is a small saucer of what seems to be liquefied dessert, an ice cream of sorts, and when you taste it, it is indeed the same temperature as everything else. “For this, we make it… vibrate at a lower frequency than everything else.”

His puzzled glance makes you wave your spoon around helplessly. “It becomes a solid when at a lower frequency, and…”

It’s only then that you realise how fucking weird your own species is.

*

You’ve never been more glad to escape a dinner table than this very moment, but the second Jeongguk puts down his utensil- you’d garnered that he is the most junior of them all- you slip out onto the adjoining balcony for some fresh air.

The temperature has dropped significantly, but the cover of night does little to mask the ethereal beauty of this planet. The luminescent hues of the plants are illuminated by the moonlight, glowing and begging for you to explore them. But a sense of self-preservation wins out, and instead you reach for your phone to try and snap a picture of it in the hopes of striking it rich if or when you get back home. Maybe this can be published in some sort of scientific magazine, or maybe even your own autobiography of your experience being kidnapped by aliens, or-

“What’s that, Human?” A voice from behind you nearly scares you into dropping your phone over the threshold into the darkness that looms below, if not for his quick reflexes that has his hand gripping your own securely.

Jimin’s marks are a faint purple, and you pull away from him almost immediately.

“Um, it’s my phone, it’s-“

“I know what those are, Earthling,” he chuckles. “Besides, I think you’ve had a pretty tough time here so far haven’t you? Having to explain all these things to us. But I think you’re doing a good job.”

His unexpected affirmation confuses you a little, so you settle for watching the marks on his cheekbones turn into a soft, gentle gray tinged with a little hue of pink, like the sakura blossoms in spring. The soft muted colours grab your attention, and you can’t help but notice how pretty they look on him.

“I apologise for Yoongi’s behaviour at dinner,” Jimin says finally, and your eyes shift from his marks to follow the metallic golden streaks on his biceps that catch your eye with every movement he makes. “He’s not usually like this, but I would advise you to stay away from him, Earthling.”

“Why do you keep calling me Earthling?” You can’t help but ask. “I have a name, you know. It’s ______.”

He turns to you in surprise, contemplating the question with a pensive frown as he meets your eyes, closing the distance between you as he takes a step closer. “I suppose we’re all used to calling you by the name of your species. It is what we have been doing for so long.” 

But his curiosity is now directed towards the device in your hands. “Can you show me what’s on there? Hoseok tells me that humans are pretty much attached to this device, it contains things like memories, useful information, things like that.”

When he puts it like that, in such a sentimental and overly romantic manner, a blush ignites your cheeks as you consider your original intentions of using it to record evidence of this entire escapade. Turning on the device, you wait for it to warm up before the lock screen presents itself, and before you can swipe past to unlock it, Jimin grabs your hand to get a closer look of it himself. 

“Wait, who is this? Another Earthling, I presume?”

He’s referring to the picture of Namjoon and you standing beneath the Eiffel Tower with exhilarated grins painting your faces, all wrapped and bundled up in matching scarves.

“Yeah. He’s a friend of mine, we spent the last few months travelling all over the world together-“

“I think I recognise him. He was with you a few moments before we picked you up. And also you’ve been with him for the past six months.” Jimin says, more for his benefit than yours. He still has his grip around your hand, bringing your phone up closer to his face for a closer inspection, which means that your arm is raised uncomfortably high to accommodate for his height. It still unsettles you a little to recall that he has been watching you since who knows when, but it slips your mind when Jimin steps up behind you, chest to your back. 

You can’t help but notice the cozy warmth that his body emanates as he crowds in close, chin hovering over your shoulder. Oddly enough, his proximity makes you feel at ease as he peeks over your shoulder, your arm now at a comfortable position, washing away all the unpleasantness that occurred at dinner, but you can only hope and pray that he doesn’t pick up on this emotion.

But you have nothing to worry about, because Jimin is still preoccupied with your lock screen. “You are happy here. With him.”

“I was,” you admit, swiping past the lockscreen finally to pull up your album of photos. “There are plenty more here. It’s just that we looked really good in that one, so I picked it as my lockscreen.”

Jimin doesn’t bother asking what a lockscreen is, since he’s more interested in scrutinising the photos of you, Namjoon and the both of you together, interspersed with random scenery shots. After a short moment of silence as you scroll past quite a number of pictures, Jimin exhales a warm puff of air right by your ear. “You’re right. You look the happiest there. Like you don’t have a worry in the world.”

Having mastered the art of scrolling, Jimin takes over from you as he blatantly flicks through your most intimate memories himself, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. After all, he’s spent months or even years watching you, so how much more invasive can he get?

He pauses at a photo that you’d taken while at Disneyland, eyes bright in the reflection of the spinning carousel’s fairylights, a pair of ears sitting atop your head that Namjoon had mocked you for, calling you a basic bitch, but you still shelled out the cash to purchase anyway. There is a breathless laugh upon your reddened lips as you perch upon a prancing pony with an arched neck painted with gold embellishments, ears pricked and forelegs raised in a fanciful trot. You can almost hear the melodious tune of the carousel as you stumble upon this picture again, completely forgetting that you even took it.

“Actually, you’re wrong. You look happier here. And prettier too,” Jimin muses, and his tone is so unabashed that you’re a little taken aback, before you remember how straightforward they all are.

“Um, thank you.”

“You should set this as your ‘lockscreen’ instead.” Jimin suggests, turning to glance at you for a second, but it’s only met with a chuckle from you.

“How narcissistic would it be to have a lockscreen of my own face?”

“If I looked that good, I’d want to see it every day.” His comment seems less like a compliment and more matter of fact, so you don’t feel the need to thank him.  Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal, and you don’t question him, because he does seem like the kind who would stare at his own selfies for days on end.

Not that you blame him, he is attractive, and no doubt would be considered so on Earth. Even with his marks, he resembles a golden cherub, especially when he smiles and those cheeks round out into a measure of his exuberance. All he needs is a halo and some wings.

You tear your eyes away from him, feeling the need to put some distance between you, especially as you start to notice how firm his chest feels against your back. But his arms are caging you in, and you can’t escape his hold without applying some kind of force.

“Is he your romantic partner?” Jimin questions with wide, imploring eyes, and you frown for a moment before realising that he means Namjoon.

“I bet you’d know, since you were watching me anyway.”

Jimin only rolls his eyes. “We don’t watch you constantly, Human. Only monitor your emotions. The only time we’ve been watching you that closely is when we were deciding when to pick you up.”

“No, he’s not my romantic partner.”

“But you have romantic feelings for him?”

Once again, you deny it.

“Hmm. Interesting. He seems to have romantic feelings for you, though.” Jimin ponders as he taps a finger to bring your screen to life again.

“How do you know? I thought you could only sense the six basic emotions. Love isn’t one of them.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jimin admits, swallowing hard as he considers how he came to this conclusion.

Love is a uniquely human emotion, he’d surmised, completely unnecessary for biological reproduction, and yet, Earthlings seem to place an utmost importance on it. Most Earthling mates are bonded together by this emotion. He isn’t very good at identifying it yet, but one thing Jimin does know is that this emotion called love complicates things, twists one’s perspectives and blinds them to the other’s faults and imperfections.

How does he know? Jimin himself has been struggling to come up with a rational explanation for the existence of this emotion that would satisfy Hoseok, but all he has are those that he’s picked up from Namjoon. Hoseok had dismissed it purely as happiness because the two of you were out exploring the world together, but he was certain that it had been something more profound than that, larger in magnitude. It had been a flutter in his chest every time Namjoon looked your way, a slight acceleration in heartbeat, a loss of breath sometimes.

The sudden tingle in his chest doesn’t seem all that foreign to him after all, Jimin realises as he sneaks a glance your way. The realisation makes his grasp slip on your phone, and struggling to keep a hold of it, he hears the sound of a snapshot, and glances toward the screen in surprise.

He draws away immediately, shoving the device back into your hands in a mild panic. “Apologies, Earthling, I didn’t mean-“

He seems a little too flustered over having accidentally taken a photo, but you let it slide. To gloss over the sudden awkwardness, you ask him for some intergalactic secrets that will earn you lots of money when you take them back to Earth. “That is, if you’re planning to return me at all?”

Jimin only frowns. “What is ‘money’, Earthling?”

There is a pause from you as you consider how to best explain this. “Um, well, money can be exchanged for goods and services on Earth. It’s considered really important, to the extent that people have done horrible things for it. People have been driven to insanity by it, controlled by it when they should be controlling it instead.”

‘Well… I can tell you how the Universe ends. If you really still want this money of yours,” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly even as you gasp in horror.

“I-is it because of Earth? Did we somehow manage to nuke the entire outer space?”

“No,” Jimin frowns again, and you’re beginning to recognise this gesture as a sign that you’ve used a term he doesn’t understand, or said something incredibly stupid. This time, it’s the latter.

“The Universe ends when one of our pilots is test driving a spacecraft’s time traveling features. He presses a button, and the Universe disappears,” Jimin says conversationally, all while you’re trying to withhold your exclamations of horror. “So it goes.”

“But can’t you stop it, if you know this? Why can’t you stop them from developing this new technology, keep him from pressing that button, destroy all spacecrafts, or-“

“You misunderstand, Earthling,” Jimin shakes his head with a laugh. “It is destined to happen, no matter what we do. The moment is structured that way, he has always pressed it, we will always continue to let him. That is why we don’t focus on the awful times and instead look at the pleasant ones, like this moment, for instance. Isn’t this a nice moment?”

“I guess it is.”

*

Your stay on this little planet hasn’t been all that unpleasant. Most days, you’re left to your own devices and you see it fit to go accompany Hoseok in his research lab. He’s more than happy to have you over, gushing over how much of a genius you are when you scan down his list of unsolved mysteries regarding Earthlings and answering them easily.

“What is this strange gesture that Earthlings do all the time?” Hoseok taps his list, and belatedly realises that for a change, you’re frowning at him instead. “Oh, come here and I’ll demonstrate.”

When you’re beside him, staring at the multitude of screens with paragraphs of unrecognizable symbols upon them and just about to ask if this is their written language, Hoseok grabs your hand in his. You look down at your hands in mild surprise, noting the way your palms are clasped together.

“This?” You ask, raising your hands to his eye level. “We hold hands for a multitude of reasons. The most basic one is for comfort and security. Mothers hold their children’s hands to lead them and make sure they don’t get lost, but when we become adults, holding someone’s hand is like telling them that you’ll be right beside them, leading and accompanying them at the same time.”

“So… for guidance, mainly? But if you don’t know the way, you could just consult a map,” Hoseok seems to miss the point entirely, and you pat his hand gently.

“Not in such a straightforward way. It’s like… when you ask someone to hold your hand, it’s asking them to stay with you through the good and the bad times. It provides a physical connection that’s reassuring, and it can be both platonic or romantic, depending on the people involved, and how they do it.”

Hoseok seems intrigued, and although you can see him itching to type away, he restrains himself to glance up at you, one more question on the tip of his tongue. “How do they differ?”

“When they do it like this,” you interlock your fingers with his so that they form a criss-cross, “it’s slightly more intimate and romantic. But my personal favourite is this one.” You let go of his hand entirely, hooking your pinky around his as the rest of your fingers curl into your palm, and Hoseok mimics you uncertainly.

“What does this one mean? I’ve never seen Earthlings do this.”

“It means a secret promise.” You allow your pinkies to linger like this for a while, watching Hoseok’s marks glow a sorbet yellow that slowly turns a dusty rose. “It means I promise to never leave you.” 

It seems like the lavender haired alien is blushing at your cheesy lines, but you know better than to interpret his facial expressions and marks the way you do with Earthlings. They probably have a whole other complicated system as to what these colours mean, so you give his pinky a light playful squeeze just to see the marks on his cheekbones flare a deeper fuchsia. 

And then Hoseok breaks away abruptly, turning back to his screen as he avoids your gaze entirely.

“Jimin is asking for you, you should go to him.”

Belatedly realising that Jimin must have sent for you telepathically, you wonder just how much of this prior moment he was privy to. Even the other night where he’d scrolled through your memories on your phone, were his brothers listening in through that telepathic connection?

A shiver travels up your spine as you imagine Yoongi having access to your most intimate moments, but then you chide yourself, because he surely has more important things to do than keep tabs on an Earthling like you.

Just the same, you’ll have to ask Jimin just how far these telepathic connections go.

He seems to be expecting you when you knock on his door, so you let yourself inside as he stands from his seat. His marks are a dark, brooding navy, a sharp contrast to his light, textured blonde hair.

“Earthling,” he says by way of greeting. “I wanted you to- wanted to ask you to show me more of those memories you have on your phone.”

The way he corrects himself does not go unnoticed, and you pat your pockets for your phone before realising that you’d left it in your room. “Oh, I think I left it in my room. I’ll just go get it real quick, and-“

“I’ll come with you,” Jimin offers, his marks lightening to a more neutral shade of blue now as he heads for the door. “I’ve been cooped up in here for way too long anyway.”

Along the way, you remember what you’ve been meaning to ask him, and Jimin chuckles in response.

“Don’t worry, Earthling, we can block our mental thoughts and sensory experiences when we need or want to, to maintain a sense of privacy,” he reassures you. “I do it all the time when I’m with you.”

“What about just now? Was Hoseok doing it too?”

Jimin considers your question carefully, taking his time to formulate his response as you reach your room and push the door open. He hasn’t quite come to terms with that stifling feeling in his chest when he’d seen you and Hoseok doing that strange gesture, or when he’d seen Hoseok’s marks turn pink. All he knows is that he had to summon you immediately, and he surmises that maybe it’s a bid for all your attention to be on him only.

He knows he likes it when you’re only looking at him.

“No, he wasn’t, that’s why he received my message for you.” Jimin answers truthfully.

You accept his answer, striding over to your dresser to pick up your phone. “Here it is, we can go back to your lab now, or maybe you’d like to go outside? Seeing as you’ve been cooped up-“

“No need,” he rejects you easily. “We can do it here.”

You swallow hard at how direct he is, but force yourself to brush it aside as he settles himself on the edge of your bed. You try not to admire how the loose white fabric bunches around his thighs, betraying thick banded muscles that look firm to the touch, or how the v neck of his top plunges to reveal a toned chest. When he motions that you sit beside him, you can only shoot up a quick prayer to the Gods, if they can even hear you, for a semblance of self-control.

Jimin has one leg tucked up beneath him, body angled toward you as you settle beside him, mirroring his position. “Show me more, Earthling.”

“What do you want to see?”

He only shrugs in response, so you open up a random album of pictures and start describing them to him, keeping your screen brightness low so that it doesn’t deplete your battery too badly.

Which was a bad idea, because Jimin, on the grounds that he can’t see, takes it upon himself to wedge his body closer to you, leaving a sliver of space between your bodies as he stretches one leg behind you, the other curled around your right leg, thighs almost touching. The intense proximity has your brain immediately going hazy, and you immediately turn back to the current picture, which is a colourful array of pastries and desserts that you remember gorging yourself on.

“These were the most expensive desserts we ever had, but it was so worth it. Looking back, we probably shouldn’t have bought them, but we figured we would regret it if we didn’t. I wish I could go back there for more,” you sigh wistfully.  

“Why are you describing everything as if it’s happened in the past?” Jimin is listening intently, pewter gray eyes fixed on yours, and his marks are glowing a calm sunset orange.

But his question puzzles you. “Wh-what do you mean? All this happened already, these moments are in the past, gone and dusted, that’s why.”

Jimin’s eyes lighten in understanding. “Ah, it must be an Earthling perception of time, then.” When you don’t respond, he goes on to clarify. “You said you wanted to go back to this period of time so badly. That this feeling, this nostalgia, makes you miss the past that has already gone. But we see it differently here.”

Reaching over your shoulder, he scrolls back a couple of pictures which you’d already shown him, stopping at a panoramic view of snow-capped mountains that you remember driving past in a near blizzard, car tires skidding on black ice. “This stretch of mountains, you see it all at once, do you not? We see time the same way. Past, present and future all exist simultaneously, we can choose to look at any moment we please, but ultimately, they all occur at the same time. Every single moment is permanent.”

“Oh.” Your simple response is incongruent to the racing thoughts clouding your mind, one of which ironically and ruefully notes that yet another intergalactic secret has been revealed to you. Such a complicated concept can’t possibly be dreamt up, you’re not that smart, and little by little, you’re starting to believe that all of this isn’t a dream, it’s your reality. And the warmth of Jimin’s body certainly helps to hammer that truth home.

“So when you said you want to go back, it is illogical, because in a sense, you are already back there,” Jimin glances at your side profile, but your gaze is fixed on your screen. He doesn’t know how much of this you believe, but he’s not picking up much on his radar right now other than an undercurrent of happiness.

Because of him? Jimin doesn’t allow the thought to formulate.

But the emotion quickly fades into sadness again, and this time, Jimin actually sees moisture well up in your eyes. A mild panic rises within his chest, he knows that Earthlings tend to leak moisture from their eyes when they are particularly upset, it’s called crying, but Jimin doesn’t know if he’d done anything to generate this reaction.

“Earthling…” He starts, but you cut him off.

“Thanks for that, Jimin. Really,” you glance over at him, blinking back the tears, and you can only blame your sudden outpour of emotions on them. “I mean, I know I’m not on Earth anymore, so the laws of time and space probably don’t apply here. But the thought of all those moments still existing, there being a possibility that I am back there, being the person whom I always wanted to be, instead of this worthless, emptiness… that’s quite nice actually.”

Your tirade trails off into an incredulous laugh, and you figure that Jimin must think that you’re insane. But at this point, you’re already so far gone, so might as well admit to a strange, handsome blonde alien something that you’ve never had the guts to tell anyone. Why not? It’s not like he’d tell anyone on Earth. “Anyway, I’ve been having a really hard time, lately. Thank God you kidnapped me, or else-”

Jimin’s never heard your voice like this before, he can only describe it as raw, completely honest, and something in him wavers a little when he senses your overwhelming sadness wash over you. Guided by an unknown instinct, he brings his hand to your chin, fingertips guiding you to turn your head to face him, and then you are merely a breath’s distance away from him.

He’s aware that his marks are glowing a gentle rose hue, but he also feels the tinge of nerves in his stomach as he leans in closer, attempting to do what he’s observed Earthlings do so many times. He isn’t sure if he will be able to do it right, but the sight of your wet cheeks spurs him on nonetheless, and he carefully meets your lips with his own plush ones, thumb caressing your cheek gently.

The sensation of your lips against his is foreign, but not unpleasant, and his tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip. The rest of your body freezes against him for a moment, and Jimin frets over whether this is entirely inappropriate or not, but then you relax against his touch, eyelids fluttering closed. The way your wet eyelashes kiss your upper cheek has him entranced, even more so when you start to move your lips against his, and then there is a strange fluttering in his chest, a sense of contentment that fills every single pore as you start to kiss him back.

Jimin could get used to this.

You pull away first, eyes wide and questioning, and Jimin detects a mix of happiness and surprise. To distract himself from how much he wants to kiss you again, his hand finds yours buried in the bedspread, remembering your conversation with Hoseok and wanting to surprise you, he hooks his pinky with yours the way he saw you do it.

“When we see a person in a bad place, or going through a tough time, all we think is that he is in a bad condition in a particular moment. But that same person is completely fine in plenty of other moments.” There is a faint glow of warmth within his chest that he recognises as happiness, but only this time, Jimin can’t seem to delineate whether it’s coming from him or you.

You glance down at his pinky- adorably short for his size, you realise- hooked around yours, enthused by the knowledge that he had been watching over your conversation with Hoseok after all. You squeeze his pinky like you did Hoseok’s, the only difference is, you feel your heart tighten at the same time, as if it was being squeezed as well.  

“In this moment, I’m more than fine.” 

*

“Jimin, I get it!!” Hoseok bursts into Jimin’s lab, a shock of lavender hued hair and barely restrained excitement. “I get what you’re talking about now!”

Jimin is annoyed at having been interrupted as he glances up over his screens at the other alien. He might not have been doing much before this, being far too distracted by the memory of your lips on his, but the lavender haired alien doesn’t need to know this. Running his hand through his hair wearily, he waits for Hoseok to elaborate.

“The emotion which you call love, I felt it, with the Earthling.”

Jimin draws in a deep breath, struggling to keep his emotions at bay and hide them from the other alien. But it’s no use, he can feel his marks glowing an ugly shade of plum even as he feigns indifference, typing nonsense into his data sheet.

“Oh? What did you feel, exactly?” Jimin casts a brief glance at Hoseok’s enthused expression. “You know, I’m starting to think maybe I was wrong, it was just a conjecture on my part-“

“No, you were absolutely right,” Hoseok cuts him off, his words tripping over each other as he hastens to explain himself. “Humans do experience this emotion, and it’s odd really, because it feels different from what you described with the Earthling’s partner, Namjoon, was it? Anyway, you said his was more of a- euphoria? While I detected more of a nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I was going to throw up-“

“My Earthling doesn’t have a partner,” Jimin clarifies, and his statement causes Hoseok to freeze in his tirade.

“Your Earthling, you say?” Hoseok narrows his eyes at Jimin, and the blonde alien can’t help but feel antsy under his scrutiny. “Brother, why this sudden ownership over the Earthling? Could you be-“

“You read too much into it,” Jimin hastens to correct himself, because there’s a feeling in his gut that tells him that he can’t trust anyone, not even his brothers. Or maybe it’s a sense of protectiveness towards you, but he can’t let anyone know about what happened that night in your room. Hoseok would reprimand him, or worse, for getting attached to what he deems as a test subject, and there’s no doubt as to how Yoongi would take the news.

Jimin was the one who brought you to this planet, and likewise, he’d be the one to keep you safe.

“I merely meant that she was my responsibility, and seek to suggest that all interactions be limited to myself only,” Jimin meets the other alien’s eye with a stony determination. In reality, he knows that Hoseok is higher in rank than him, could easily report him to Yoongi for insubordination, or have him suspended entirely. He needs to tread carefully. “After all, we do not want to risk corrupting the test subject with too many host influences.”

The mention of test subject does the trick; Hoseok seems to believe him even as the term leaves a bitter taste in Jimin’s mouth.

“Alright, but do be cautious, Brother. Remember, she is merely a test subject after all.”

“Noted, Brother.” Jimin answers tersely, nodding his head in dismissal.

[black-strike-otp]

part 76

This took far more time to write than it should have but at least it’s done! Haza!

I have a feeling someone’s gonna kick my ass for this, hmm...

Whatever it was Blackout was searching for, she never could figure out. There was better ways to waste time she imagined instead of waiting for his room to be available by walking around the Nemesis without reason. She hoped he was considering how to get out of this mess, but something in her spark felt deadened with dismay. What if he didn’t want to leave? This had been his home. Maybe it was all just her; her fears, her unease, her cowardice at play here. She should be more considerate of how he felt about a place that meant something to him, and still might.

The thought process didn’t put at ease her panicked thoughts. Starscream had been muttering to Nighthawk something about Megatron wanting to speak to him after bringing up the fact that the medic had went missing with tools owned by the Decepticon cause. What would that crazy tyrant do to him if he realized the devices Nighthawk may have on servo were that of the Malevolence property?

Keeping a close trot to Blackout’s pace, Nova followed the mech to his room in a nearly desolate hallway. Judging by the three or so Eradicon walking around, they had just finished up cleaning out his old room. It seemed a low-traffic route on the ship as the floors and walls weren’t scuffed up and discolored from pedes like high traffic zones.

If she’d thought the captain’s quarters on board the Rising Star had been an achievement of luxury, as Blackout identified his personal signal to the door and it opened, she was soon mistaken.

It may have lacked any personal touch just as the Rising Star’s room had, but it was far, far larger in size. Aside from a berth, there was a large wall to wall set of storage cabinets, cupboards, and an area to lay out items, trinkets, trophies, knickknacks, weapons, you name it across the same span of distance. There were an obvious hidden closet built into the wall for further storage, shelves, and a virtual command console with a massive chair clearly meant to hold a large bot.

With a nook mini fridge and a curious door that lead to who knew what, it was practically a mansion in its own right. Sadly, the room seemed to lack the beauty of an open window to view out in the stars which she found one of the best attributes to their room, but this was a warship, not a transporter turned space vessel. Having such a window would jeopardize the health of the bot in the room as anyone could take a shot at them just doing a fly by.

“This was your room?” Nova stated with shock, looking around as Blackout moved further into the room.

For the first time since they’d entered the room, the obsidian mech actually bothered to respond to her. He moved his helm just enough to look over his shoulder so that his scarlet optics could gaze upon her.

“It was,” he admitted. “Perks of being a top tier Decepticon officer.”

“You must have thought the Rising Star was pitiful in comparison,” she whispered faintly, walking around the room with astonishment. This room was larger than some of the rooms bots had grouped up to recharge in on the Rising Star, and this was for one; albeit large, but one mech.

Rumbling quietly in his chassis, the reinstated Decepticon Hound glanced away, and back down at her with a look of momentary hurt.

“I didn’t think such a thing,” he whispered quietly.

Cringing at her own thoughtless remark, Nova went to open her big stupid trap and speak up, when she was cut off.

“That door there leads to a private shower rack,” Blackout softly stated. “Its been a while since we’ve had a proper cleaning. Why don’t you take first shower? I’ve got somewhere to be, but I’ll leave Scorponok in here so you don’t come out alone. If you have trouble figuring out how it works, Scorp can offer you some assistance.”

Private shower rack? Primus, the mech had been living a life of opulence. She’d never heard of a private shower rack before; and the fact he had to vaguely mention that the controls may be complicated probably suggested it was over the top with a hundred crazy settings.

After finally absorbing this information, it seemed like the rest of the mech’s words finally came to her.

“You’re leaving?” she managed to squeak breathlessly.

“Only for a little while, dear, I promise,” he rumbled quietly, turning his body to look down at her fully with a tender smile.

Frustrated, she threw her arms down, looking to the floor. “I don’t understand, you were being so weird and distant when the seekers surrounded us and you were just acting so insensitive right outside the door and through the halls, where is this coming from why are you acting this way-?”

“Novastrike I’m so sorry,” Blackout cut in, baring his servos in submission as he stepped closer to kneel down towards her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He reached out, gently pressing his digit to her chin. There was no pressure to it; he waited patiently for her to raise her helm to him of her own accord. A small smile formed on his faceplate, a melancholy light to his expression as she finally elevated her helm.

“Soundwave is a lot more than he appears, and I know he appears... eerie,” he said gently. “But I have learned, there is nothing that mech can not hear. The only reason I say this now is because this room; all officer rooms, and debugged and fortified specifically for privacy. They’re made for this security; part of our privilege. Love, it is far safer if bots on this ship speculate you are only, my apologies, but another bot under my services. I can not offer you the kindness and cherishing you deserve in front of others, it is too risky, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“Nova,” he continued softly. “I do not want to offend you. I am doing what I can to keep you safe. I value you, I love you, I care about you, but these mechs, they will not hesitate to hold things against anyone else if they think it’s a weak spot.”

“So, you’re saying I’m your weak spot?” Nova murmured, offering a nervous, unsure smile.

Blackout gave a light chuckle at that. “One of my weakest,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t feel comfortable alerting you earlier to my behavior as precaution to prying audios and I wasn’t sure how to try getting the idea across otherwise without rousing suspicion. Please just... trust me. I’m doing my best. I don’t want to jeopardize you in any way.”

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed playfully, yanking her helm away from him to nip at his digit. Before he could retract his servo at her ‘cruelty’, she pressed a kiss to the spot she had bit as apology.

“I’m sure we could both give these bots a run for their credits,” he agreed with a grin, “but there are a lot of powerful bots here. Coming out in one piece, well...”

“I understand,” she whispered quietly, audio stacks falling back.

Giving a half-sparked smile, the ebony mech brushed his digit over the top of her helm with gentleness. It brought a warm smile to her faceplate once again. Novastrike glanced up to him, rubbing her cheek against his servo as he brought his digits around to rub her backstrut.

“I like it better when you have a smile on your face,” he murmured quietly.

Giving a slight huff, she stuck her glossia out at him teasingly.

Raising an optic ridge, the colossal mech brought back his servo and tapped her very gingerly upon her faceplate.

“Will you be alright if I leave you with Scorponok?” Blackout persisted calmly.

There was a slight hesitation. For a moment, she considered asking him to stay. Scorponok was a wonderful mech; a good friend, a good fighter, but she didn’t know this ship. She didn’t know what to expect. And Blackout, well, he gave a certain kind of well-known ‘big and scary’ projection that kept all the other monsters and demons at bay...

But that was selfish. She didn’t know what it was he wanted to go check on so badly. There may be friends on this ship he hadn’t seen in a long time. Frag, for all she knew, maybe he wanted to get a rundown on things so he could get back to work.

Offering a lopsided smile, the little femme gave a slight nod in response. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll check out that shower rack you mentioned. Just don’t... don’t take forever?”

Primus, she sounded like an anxious sparkling.

Fortunately, he seemed to understand, bless his spark. Giving a nod, he positioned his pedes to stand as he offered a sweet, small, sensitive smile.

“I’ll try to be fast,” he echoed in a quiet rumble. The rotors on his backside peeled on either side as he spoke, and after a sequence of metallic shifting noises, Scorponok’s figure peeked up and climbed upon Blackout’s shoulder.

Turning two optics to his master and two to Novastrike, the bug gave a chirp. Blackout gave him a nod, and the scorpion scaled part of the way down before dropping near her as she jumped back with surprise.

Chattering, the bug took a few steps in her direction. She let out a slight giggle, reaching out to scratch along his helm.

“Behave yourselves,” growled the massive bot.

“No promises,” Scorponok clicked with a taunting, mischievous tone.

While Novastrike gave a laugh, Blackout gave him his partner a serious glance.

“Come on, Scorp,” she snickered. “You can give me a debriefing about this shower stall.”

“No bathe me,” the bug cautiously stated.

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “For myself only, I vow it.”

Giving an agreeing nod, the minicon began to pitter-patter his pronged pede tips across the floor in a hurry. Nova turned slowly to follow the bug to the bathing room. She came to a pause at the door as it opened for her insect-like companion and glanced back to Blackout as he watched her, pressing a kiss to her palm and blowing it towards him.

Truthfully, she didn’t expect the cheesy response she got in return. He pretended to catch the kiss, and went to place his servos over his spark.

Ears burning with a blushing light, she turned rigidly and hurried into the bathroom, with Blackout’s melted dark chocolate playful laughter following her as her spark rang a few notes of joy.

~

Once Novastrike was in the shower rack, Blackout took a swift exit from the room. He had to make sure she was somewhere secure before he would feel at ease leaving her. Even with Scorponok by her side, leaving her alone on this ship filled to the brim with mechs who’d have half a mind to squash her, probe her, and who knew what else, he simply didn’t like the idea of dropping her just anywhere. His room would be safe. His scanners and light EMP before entering the room ensured that if something had been left behind, it had been overcharged but it seemed free of spy equipment.

He wasn’t just on edge, he was paranoid.

Quickly moving down the hall, he hurried back in the direction of the bridge. A sharp cry of pain captured his attention and he redirected his attention, wishing that he would just be wrong this time.

Coming down the hall that would have usually directed him to the command room, he went to turn and saw the tyrant standing over a red armored mech.

“My Lord-”

The tyrant slammed his pede into the mech’s backside, eliciting a sharp cry from the seeker. His wings were angled sharply downward. Blackout could hear from the distance he was at the soft noises escaping the seams where his wings met his backstrut daring to crack.

“Lord Megatorn,” Blackout gruffly spoke up, his voice level and loud.

Turning his helm to the side, the Decepticon leader released a malicious snarl at him.

“What do you want, Blackout?”

“Apologies for the disruption, my Lord,” he humbly grumbled, inclining his helm. “I had overheard that you had summoned Nighthawk. I came on behalf of the mech-”

“On behalf of this gutless spawn?” the tyrant growled furiously. The vicious light in his optics grew darker as he removed his pede from the medic, knocking him into the wall with a sharp kick.

Although he knew it unwise to turn his optics away from his ruler, Blackout flickered a glance towards the smaller mech. He cringed as he got a good look at the front of the vermilion and white section of his chassis now scorched blacker than the charcoal accent armor trim and sections of underarmor. There was energon beading up from the hole near his upper chassis, welling and having left streams of blue over his chassis. His left cheek appeared dented in slightly and energon dripped from his mouth.

Nighthawk grimaced as he realized Blackout was staring at him. His entire frame was riddled with smaller dents and scratches; claw marks and gashes.

As he brought his optics back towards Megatron, he felt surprised how quickly the big mech had approached upon him.

“Explain why  you are delaying due punishment,” the tyrant all but raged. “Enlighten me, as I am inconceivably curious why you would defend an AWOL medic. Deserted his post, swiped cargo from the Malevolence that we have discovered on board his ship.”

Biting back his question as to where the dragon was although he became acutely aware he was not present, the giant mech bowed his helm as he growled, “My Lord, I apologize for not being straightforward previously. But my wounds... Had been rather grave, sir. Although I had been getting by after the war, I keep a distress signal active for some time. It eventually drew in Autobots, my Lord, and so I had to turn it off. However, Nighthawk had caught a cycled loop of my signal and had taken it upon himself to go after me.”

“Considering I was deemed offline, my Lord, he did not bring up his findings to his command for certainty that they would fine him to be mad. So instead of asking for help, he thought it best to take it upon himself to follow my distress signal. It would be of my fault that he would even consider stealing the property of the Malevolence. His assistant is bound both by loyalty and servitude my Lord. I ask you to consider sparing them-”

It all happened so fast; he didn’t even see it coming. Suddenly his oldest friend had his helm in his servo and forcibly shoved his weight into Blackout. Under normal circumstances, the mech at least 10 feet shorter than himself, he may have been able to throw off but he was taken so aback that he slammed into the wall and slid part of the way down.

“Do you take me for a fool?!” the tyrant roared into his audio receptor.

“Never, my Lord,” he rasped.

“That mech is a traitor, and should be dealt with accordingly,” he pledged, pushing Blackout’s helm firmly into the wall. “You are lying to me; I can smell it on you, see it in your optics. But why would you lie to me on behalf of this runaway coward?”

Moving his optics towards Nighthawk, Blackout could see the medic trying to sit up. His servo appeared to be ghosting at his side, trying to find something.

“I owe this mech my life, sir,” Blackout grunted, huffing as the warlord shoved his weight into his side; knee joint digging into his side. “He has saved my life. He’s skilled at what he does, sir, he’s not expendable.”

“You think I’m going to let him live because he saved your life?” Megatron jeered furiously.

“I’m requesting you let him live because he can and will save the lives of your crew, given the opportunity, my liege.”

With a sudden jerk, the Decepticon Leader tore his servo away from Blackout’s helm. He flinched as pain burned in his helm as small sections of his kibble armor and smaller chunks of metal snapped off with the mech’s servo.

Nighthawk quickly had his servo upon the floor and away from his thigh. He looked around hopelessly as he tried to scoot back, bringing up one arm in self defense.

“My Lord, please-”

Pushing himself off the wall, Blackout winced with sympathy as the tyrant picked up the poor seeker by his deformed chassis armor and rammed him bodily into the wall. Nighthawk gave a sharp intake of pain, his optics flashing. The moment his frame was released, Megatron’s servo came up in a swift uppercut and plowed into the hole of his chassis.

The medic was sent to the ceiling of the hallway, letting out a yelp as his helm collided with the roof. He fell to the floor as the Decepticon Lord stepped back, with the hole now widened and deeper. Metal was crushed inward from his chassis and energon was flowing out at an alarming rate.

As Megatron reached down as if to haul up his toy once more, Blackout took the lengthy strides of distance between them and reached out, grabbing him by the arm.

It proved to be a terrible mistake.

The warlord’s fist came hurtling around and slugged him right in the forehead. His processor scrambled with the pain with flashing light emitting randomly from his optics as they glitched. With his loosened grip, the silver-toned mech ripped his other arm free and raised his fusion cannon.

The hum of it warming up caught Blackout’s attention, and just before it went off in direct blank range of his chassis, he swung quite literally blindly, knocking his master’s arm away.

Infuriated, Megatron slid out his blade, resting it against Blackout’s neck cables as his optics finally were capable of taking in the sights around him once more.

“Tell me right now, why I shouldn’t just behead you both for such incompetence?”

“Because the only medic you have available to you is Knock Out,” he growled quietly, tasting energon in his mouth. “And his ‘assistant’ is offline, Breakdown I believe his designation was. Sir, I may have been gone, but I am not stupid. I can scan occupations with ease on this ship. Knock Out is a field medic; young, trained solely by his own curiosities and examinations of other bots performances over the years.”

“Nighthawk went to an academy, my lord. His supplies may have been taken, but unless you plan on returning it, consider it more materials for the Nemesis, where it would matter more anyway. Offlining him is just losing a valuable aid to your empire.”

A slow, lazy, ominous grating laugh escaped the mech. “You may yet convince me to spare Nighthawk’s spark, but what of your own?”

The blade moved, ghosting against Blackout’s neck threateningly.

He spoke as frankly as he possibly could, praying it was the right choice. “Sir, I can not tell you why I should be online. You already thought that I was offline. I have clearly disgraced you and your order. It would only make sense for you to make a lesson of me.”

“That almost sounds like you want to offline, Blackout; you’re not convincing me.”

“I have no valuable excuses, my liege. The choice is yours, as is my life.”

The thick air of tension lingered. Blackout kept his optics placed on his master’s. Primus, this is not how he expected a stand off to go in his life where he truly had no say in the matter. To try to even act as if he was going to defend himself would start a battle he didn’t want to face. To sit here and wait for death was to put his femme in the servos of these mechs, and taking Scorponok to an early grave or at bare minimum, giving that poor scorpion a horrible pain-ridden remainder of his life as the bond broke and his spark was engulfed in the worst pain he’d ever experienced in his life.

Gradually, Megatron pulled his sword away from his throat. Blackout didn’t allow himself even a fraction of relief or a breath. He knew how quickly the tides could turn on this mech.

“You’ve clearly forgotten your place,” the mighty leader stated with clear fury. “Know this: I am only allowing you to live because I we could use more firepower. That... and consider this your one and only second-chance. One I never thought I would have to use on you, of all mechs, Blackout.”

“I understand, my Lord,” he stated calmly.

Flicking his optics, Megatron moved his helm and then pivoted his frame so that his shoulders nearly skimmed Blackout’s armor. He turned to look at the slumped over Nighthawk, who was weakly coughing up energon.

“Thank Blackout for having your life spared today, medic,” taunted the warlord with a sadistic sneer. “The instant you disappoint me, I’m ripping your body apart, piece by piece, while you scream for mercy.”

Cycling the energon back in his vents, Nighthawk gagged as he lifted his helm up, optics flickering and helm rolling slightly on his shoulders.

“My assistant?” he gurgled past the energon dripping from his mouth.

“I’ll return him to you,” Megatron agreed, offering a spark-chilling laughter as he added on, “What’s left of him, anyway.”

Nighthawk’s optics darkened dramatically and he tried to lunge forward, falling flat on his chassis with a cry of agony.

Giving a more hearty laughter that was still similarly haunting, the tyrant seemed to thrive on the seeker’s fear; beaming wide. Nearly each sharp, pointy section of derma lined in his mouth was showing from his hideously gleeful expression.

“Be grateful that I leave it online at all,” he taunted nastily. Turning a final angry look towards Blackout that spoke volumes on how much he distrusted him now, the big mech walked past the seeker. Not without, perhaps purposefully, allowing his pede to step upon Nighthawk’s arm as he passed so that the seeker gave a weak and feeble whine.

Blackout waited until the Decepticon Leader was at least a good thirty paces down the corridor before he stepped over to Nighthawk. The medic was clawing at the floor, trying to push himself up on his knees and servos despite how drained he had to be feeling.

Reaching out, he went to pick the seeker up.

“Don’t help me!” Nighthawk all but shrieked. “I can help myself!”

Narrowing his optics, Blackout gave a quiet snarl and grabbed the medic by his waist and hauled him up to tuck him under his arm.

“What are you doing?!” the medic demanded, trying to wriggle himself free. “Put me down this instant!”

“Sorry, Nighthawk, no can do,” Blackout grumbled. “I would have carried you in a slightly more dignified way, but you insist on being hard-helmed.”

“Where are you taking me?” he growled as he struggled, trying to shove himself out of the arm curled around him.

“To the med-bay.”

“So that psychopath Knock Out can work on me? I think not! Release me, I have to go find Infiltrator this instant!”

“Relax, old mech,” hushed the much larger obsidian mech in a growly voice. “I’m going to set your slagging aft on a berth, hand you whatever junk you ask me to, and leave. You can enjoy some quality time with that slagging grounder.”

“Infiltrator is my priority-” Nighthawk heatedly argued.

“I’ll go see if I can’t find wherever Lord Megatron had him dragged off to, but you certainly aren’t getting anywhere in that shape. I don’t care how pissed off you are running on adrenaline, you’d hit the ground and be dead trying to haul aft or knowing your furious aft, trying to rip it from Megatron’s vocal cords.”

“If they hurt him, I’ll never forgive myself,” Nighthawk said quietly; his voice pained and much, much more tired now. He actually sounded old for once; frayed, tattered, exhausted to the last nanoite in his frame.

In that moment, Blackout felt he truly, totally, completely understood the crimson seeker’s pain and fears but on his own accomplices.

“He can’t be any worse off than you,” he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

Nighthawk didn’t appear to be having any of it. Either that, or the energon loss was starting to really kick in. He did seem to be going a bit limper in his grip.

Blackout picked up the pace towards the medics office. Maybe he was wrong about one thing; there was a pretty good chance he might pass out and just have to wake up and deal with the fact Knock Out had gotten his digits all over him. He could complain and have Blackout’s aft over it later.

~

“You expect me to take care of this?” Knock Out demanded, staring at Nighthawk’s slack frame as Blackout laid him out as carefully as he could upon the first berth he saw.

“You are a medic, are you not?” Blackout demanded in a wrathful growl of thunder.

Faltering, the glossy-framed mech opened and closed his mouth. He gave what was probably seen by most as being the most attractive smile in the multiverse to Blackout.

“I certainly am, but this is a bit uh, messy-”

“You’re a Decepticon, on a Decepticon ship, surrounded by Decepticons who come to you injured all the time, including Lord Megatron himself,” Blackout impatiently reminded him, standing over the short mech so that his shadow cascaded over him. “Fix him. Now. Or I’ll have to resort to punching you repeatedly in the helm until you can suddenly recall how to seal of energon lines and patch a bot up.”

The color drained from Knock Out’s optics as they suddenly went pale. “Yes, of course, it should be no problem whatsoever!”

“Good,” Blackout jeered. “Because if he offlines, I’ll have to kill you.”

The grounder medic seemed to shrink even smaller beneath Blackout’s large frame.

“Sorry,” he added in a tone that definitely suggested he would not be sorry to perform an act of homicide.

As Knock Out began to slink off to fetch his medical kit, Blackout let out an exaggerated vent. He glanced down at Nighthawk’s frame for a moment, scanning over his wounds. Not good shape, but he didn’t honestly believe the old mech would die, unless Knock Out was truly that stupid and careless.

He reached up, lightly brushing his digits against his helm. A slight shudder went over him from the tender, throbbing spot near his temple. Grumbling, Blackout looked to where he saw Knock Out assembling equipment. He’d have to come back later and see about a patch and adjustments to his helm.

Removing himself from being in the way, Blackout was out of the remove before the grounder could even return to the seeker’s side. He looked up and down the hall for a nanoklik, trying to determine where his master could possibly send that drake Infiltrator at. If he wasn’t at the medic’s for dissection, then where could he be? Having him sent to the sparring room didn’t make much sense. There were no logged labs in the database, no bot who was a professional scientist.

Except, maybe one.

Rolling his optics Blackout headed down the hallway.

After a multitude of twists and turns, he followed a nearly empty hall down to the room he never visited and despised the idea of being near. Raising his fist, he rapped against the locked door.

“What is it?” Starscream’s raspy voice came from the inside.

“Room service,” Blackout offered with a vexed tone. Hardly one that you would expect from a housekeeper.

He counted the nanokliks in his helm. When the door didn’t open, he shifted as if to try prying it open with his servos and found himself surprised when the sealed dual doors hissed open just before him.

Straightening his posture and placing his arms at his side, Blackout looked the small irritating seeker in the optics.

“What do you want?” the SIC whined. “You better have a damn good reason, bothering me like this and in my own private quarters, no less.”

Trying to look around the mech’s wings, Blackout let out a grunt. “I’m searching for a missing predacon looking dragon beast. Designation: Infiltrator.”

The seeker stepped to the side slightly to shield his room. “And you thought I would be holding such a foul creature?”

“You are acting rather suspiciously.”

“Just because I do not want a dog ogling my room? You’re absolutely insane. Go away, before I report you to Lord Megatron.”

“Just step aside for a nanoklik and I’ll be on my way,” Blackout muttered with annoyance.

“I shall not! These are my private quarters, and I am your superior! How dare you-”

Giving a scream of alarm, Starscream fell to the side as the much larger, stronger bot swatted him like a fly with his arm. He didn’t so much as pass him a glance as he tried to scramble to his pedes whilst Blackout made himself at home by stepping in.

Little to his surprise, he spotted Infiltrator, completely intact but bound, on an examination table.

“You’ve no class Starscream I mean really. Doing this kind of stuff in your berth room?”

“Get out of my room you filthy scrapheap!” the seeker howled in response.

Pointing at his damaged helm, Blackout gave a shrug as though he couldn’t comprehend or hear the seeker. He walked past him as he jumped excitedly around, waving his arms and screaming about how this was intrusion, how he was going to have his aft for this, how Lord Megatron was going to beat him to slag.

Honestly, he just tuned his audios down to a bare minimum level and ignored the squealing.

The wvyren’s tail tip slapped the table lightly with encouragement as Blackout approached, his gaze pleading. Knowing he was surely going to get court marshaled or bare minimum, his aft yet again handed to him for interfering with Lord Megatron’s orders, the stubborn dark armored bot reached out and crushed his restraints. Smashing the others, flicking aside pieces of metal and twisted lengths of thin chain.

Infiltrator flapped out his wings and gave himself a mighty shake like that of a dog.

“Thank you, Blackout,” he responded with elation.

“Are you alright?” Blackout grunted.

“Oh yes, nothing more than abrasions and nicks. I was told that if I conducted myself accordingly, they would not bring harm to Nighthawk. Although, from the noise I heard while I was dragged off, I don’t believe they kept their end of the bargain...”

“No, they didn’t. I think the resident medic Knock Out could use your assistance. Are you able to walk?”

With wide-optics, the dragon let out a strangled sound. “Boss bot’s hurt that bad? We should hurry.”

Opening his mouth to ask again if the dragon could walk, Blackout was nearly knocked over as Infiltrator suddenly leaped off the examination table. He swung past Starscream, his tail swiping outward and knocking the seeker off his pedes and on his aft.

Blackout wasn’t sure if that was on purpose or not, but he took a moment to laugh and appreciate it anyway.

Fuming, the second-in-command began to claw his way to his pedes, stomping after Blackout as he growled: “I’ll have your helm for this-”

Turning to glance over his shoulder at the approaching seeker, Blackout offered a sinister grin as he replied, “I don’t think so.”

He shot an EMP burst over Starscream so that he fell flat on his back, and then proceeded to EMP the locking mechanism on the door. That should keep him down for a while.

With no sight of Infiltrator, he shrugged and headed down the passageway back in the direction that would take him to the med-bay. He was probably going to be in a frag ton of trouble later, but at the moment, he couldn’t stop to consider the consequences too greatly otherwise he had a sinking suspicion he might actually regret standing up against the universe’s well known most murderous bot and leader of the Decepticon army. No matter how daunting the task had been however, it had to be done. After all, that stupid medic had went above and beyond to help him and to help Novastrike. He owed the mech; even if it meant risking his very spark at the moment.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter sixteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): mentions of anxiety/nervousness. Yoongi going through quite a bit ) :

Word count: 5826

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“Wow, it didn’t take you long to get here.” Yoongi says as he steps back to open the door wider. You nod your head, entering inside,

“I was already in the car with Jin, and there’s not really much traffic right now.” You rub your hands together, paying particular attention to let your thumbs meddle with the individual fingers. The front door shuts with a click and an electronic beep to indicate it’s properly secure. Your eyes remain fixed towards the floor, mulling over the different things he could want to tell you.

“Were you going somewhere with him after seeing him and Namjoon at the cafe?” Yoongi’s voice is normal, a casual inquisitiveness like he hadn’t mentioned a conversation that needs to happen not even half an hour earlier. His hand finds your back with a tiny nudge to lead you towards the couch just like the day before and any other time you’ve ended up at his place for one reason or another. Despite the multitude of armchairs framing the living space, it’s been natural to sit beside one another as you do now.

“Yeah,” You say then recall that uncomfortable situation to cause you and Seokjin to leave Namjoon’s cafe. Part of you still wants to settle in the idea that the three of you were making incorrect assumptions. The first group, and then the second set of patrons were simply going in to drink coffee or have pastries. Ultimately it’s speculation, and you could just be overthinking the popularity of your name after a night of music exposure. “He was just giving me a ride.”

Yoongi watches the words appear to flutter uncertainly from your lips, like they attempt to cover a larger picture. He frowns slightly, then catches sight of balling hands on your lap. Without consideration for anything besides a clearer understanding of whatever is troubling you, Yoongi moves a few inches closer so that he can reach an intersect your focused sightline. He doesn’t surprise from your shoulders shrugging in surprise, instead smiling gently as your restless grip changes to take a delicate hold on his hand.

Your stare finally finds his own, and Yoongi thinks about the comments from the internet. You told him you wanted to wait until the evening to check any yourself, but maybe you had like he had. “What’s wrong?”

Your brows furrow, lips pouting in disbelief of his question, “You said you needed to talk to me so I’m nervous about it.” Without hesitation or tact you speak up, then clamp your lips shut. Squeezing his hand within the confines of your own, you sigh in embarrassment, unaware of Yoongi’s eyes widening in realization. “That sounded kind of harsh how I said it. But I just,” You shrug and pull your legs up onto the couch to better face him, “It’s not even three in the afternoon and you’re back home, Yoon.”

“Oh, yeah,” He blurts out, then nods slowly. You nearly snort in amusement with how he seems to have forgotten the tone of his voice in the phone call, but smother it as he uses his free hand to rub the arch of his shoulder and neck. “Yeah, I know it’s weird.” He narrows his eyes towards the sight of your connecting hands, though entirely unfocused on it. “I do have something to say, I just didn’t figure out how to say it before you got here.”

“Did Yerin end up getting really upset with you?” Yoongi bites his lip at the question, causing you to worry about the severity of the decision to release. If he is going to have a difficult time at SoundWave now, you would like to take back clicking the button, even if he said he was aware of the risks. Yoongi shouldn’t be the person facing the brunt of whatever repercussions there are.

“SoundWave is dropping me from the company.”

Your lips part, taking the sentence into your head. Yoongi doesn’t speak further, eyes simply staring towards your hands holding his, where he grips onto you the reason for this is all.

Language escapes your mind, unable to think of a response to his words. If you were called straight away for the company to tell you they’re cutting the contract short and firing you, if you were called in so they can slam paperwork for some sort of contrived lawsuit, if they took action against you for what happened, you can understand that. You expected the force of Yerin’s voice nailing your nerves while she tells you every reason why you made the wrong choice.

But Yerin firing Yoongi wasn’t a consideration.

She could’ve got rid of you months ago when the initial photographs of you and Yoongi leaked and she acknowledged the hidden affair between you and Jimin, but all along she never did. Despite the constant prodding into the company like you meant to make it burst, you were reprimanded through words wherever you expected a tearing of your contract in half.

“Why,” Yoongi looks up at your cracking mumble, finding your eyes contorted in confusion and complete regret. He goes to speak, feeling your hands tremble around his as you shake your head, “She can’t do that-” You cut your own voice off as you consider the fact that she has every right to, and you watch Yoongi bite his lip frowning. “I’m sorry.” His eyes narrow, following your figure as you stand from the couch, “This is my fault- I’ll go talk to her, I’m sorry-”

“It’s not your fault.” Yoongi reaches for your wrist while he pursues your distraught path, “Y/N, I told you that I thought about it before-”

“Did you think she’d fire you!” You turn as you ask, frowning. Yoongi’s lips shut, tightening, and you believe the tremble in his soft grip on your wrist exists, but it’s largely masked by your own surging emotions rumbling in your veins. “Yoongi, you can’t lose your job, you don’t deserve that. You’ve worked for everything.”

“You have too.” Yoongi’s voice rings with conviction, willing you to stay silent as he fumbles through other sentences swarming in his thoughts. Shaking his head, Yoongi sighs, taking a moment to admit, “I didn’t think she’d do that.”

With how much his title contributes to the company, why would either of you ever thought they would fire him for this. Even in your head, the punishment for helping you release music was comparably minor to this reality. You anticipated articles ripping you to shreds for him letting you feature in his works by only being his girlfriend. You thought Yerin would force him to remove the tracks and take away his allowance of independently posting music.

“I’ll go talk to her.”

“She’s not going to change her mind, angel.” Yoongi watches your hands clench, knowing you feel entirely helpless and unsure of how to go about assisting him. He doesn’t think it’s worth it for you to be so upset-- that this is simply a plausible repercussion, and one that isn’t your fault. Involving yourself between him and Yerin wouldn’t do anything, perhaps even serving to cause public scrutiny for you if SoundWave takes louder measures.

A year earlier, Yoongi wondered what stopped him from helping Hoseok during the scandal. His own fear felt like tape over his mouth, discouraging any means to speak favorably to the press about Hoseok whose reputation was crushed in a matter of weeks from lies and misconceptions fed into the public. All the while Yoongi let it go on, offering only an ear to spill worries and stresses, but no voice to give aid.

“Yoon, I’m so sorry.” Hearing your frail voice, Yoongi remembers offering help. In a small voice, maybe one he hoped Hoseok wouldn’t hear, but did. Only to be met with him telling Yoongi not to. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“They shouldn’t have done any of this to us.” Yoongi says immediately, recalling Yerin’s short speech earlier to him that day. He knew that it wouldn’t be good news, he already prepared for that from the moment the secretary called him on his commute to say that Yerin needed to speak to him immediately.

“You made the choice for this.” She said after Yoongi questioned why. In his stupor, he thought he heard her wrong, never thinking that she would fire him from the first sentence. “I don’t need the liability of you acting on your own like this. Your platform is too big for you to make ridiculous, impulsive decisions. And considering the online reception of those songs, it’s only natural that something had to be done. None of them went over well where fans are concerned. The amount of backlash you’re going to receive is reason enough, but I know that you won’t stop here. I can’t have someone like you in this company.”

“I never wanted any of this, Y/N.”

Ice infects his words, though spoken quietly. Weakly does his hand remain on your wrist, resembling something closer to resigning conviction, and it brings your heart to an even pace. Despite your previous racing thoughts screaming at you to go to SoundWave and fight for him to get his job back, in the sentence Yoongi brings everything to a painful lull.

Little time is needed to understand that his words aren’t directed at an anger towards being fired, but something deeper that you know is familiar. From small glances before. You can recall the tour Yerin gave him around the company building so many months ago and the stoic expression that seemed to be following motions, the time you asked him if he enjoys SoundWave just to be met with mostly silence until he could verbalize a doubtful yes. In front of cameras Yoongi’s eyes were always avoiding looking directly, dodging away like what he couldn’t show himself properly.

You shrug his hand off of you as you take a step towards him, adjusting your arm so that your palm cups his cheek. Angling his face towards your gently, Yoongi’s eyes look collected with moisture, but absent of release. Jaw tightened, then more so as he frowns down at your concern twinkling irises. “Yoon.”

The softness of your voice sends his ribcage into a shudder, unable to allow himself words for risk they’ll end up exhaling words he’s never felt like he should say. Your thumb strokes gently, so soothingly warm against his stinging skin. He lets his hands find purchase on your waist as you perk onto your toes to leave a tiny kiss on beside his lips, like a feathering promise. Silently waiting however long you’ll need to.

“I’ve never been me in front of everyone, angel,” His voice takes time on his words, like his subconscious grips onto them tightly until they’re ripped away by the invitation of your comfort. “My other company and SoundWave,” He sighs, squeezing your waist as he finds himself weakening. Yoongi has so much, he shouldn’t be upset about such a simple thing like reputation.

“Yoongi,” His eyes flicker back towards yours, seeing them present, focused. “You can tell me.”

Compared to you whose every means to be acknowledged has been constantly subdued since your entry into the music industry, Yoongi thinks it’s almost ridiculous for him to complain to you. Despite his own allowance of you telling him your troubles, he doesn’t feel like he should be allowed to talk to you about things that would’ve been changeable if he simply acted on his own accord like what people expect of him. But it’s fabrication to be unsociable and distant for the persona that grew from the debut album into an unleavable image.

Hoseok did what he wanted for himself, always maintaining his truly positive attitude and letting every fan see him as he is. Even in the midst of handling the scandal of his relationship with Seulgi, and allowing her to fabricate a clean escape that left Hoseok dealing with the brunt of misconceptions, he still did it all freely. Perhaps now he would’ve reacted differently, but Hoseok’s actions have always been his own despite what people could think, and that’s simply why he’s able to start again.

“I just feel like I’m some sort of puppet.” Yoongi believes his voice to sound hollow, more so than he intended. With it spoken, he already feels like it should be pulled back and hidden away. With how much freedom he was given to produce his music that suited the brand, and release a few independently conceptualized songs now and again without permission, Yoongi realizes that he was given the most to work with.

For you, Hoseok, and even Jimin your creative inputs were disregarded entirely. For Yoongi it was always just a distance between himself and the public; something meant to appear unattainable. He speaks quieter, without realizing the words escape, “I’m not ever supposed to be me.”

Your chest stings as his drifting focus leads away from you. Something so consuming about his words go so far as to even mesh into Yoongi’s voice, and he’s in your touch but you feel like you’re not a presence for whatever problems are further within his somber admissions. From his cheek, your hand falls away to settle on his shoulder, squeezing bits of warmth that snap his stare back to you.

“You’ve always been you to me.” The sentiment outwardly appears small, but the conviction amidst your gentle voice resonates deeply in Yoongi’s chest. With his eyes widening so slightly he finds himself in silence, for some reason baffled by your statement, because certainly how the two of you interacted very initially could have led incorrect assumptions of who he is.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to be SUGA around you.” Yoongi says, recalling the simplistic intention of releasing music as an idol years ago. “Ever since debut everyone always picked how I’m supposed to act and look on their own,” He sighs, reaching to rub his head and then tugging some of the locks, “Even my hair,” There’s a passing scoff as his voice grows spiteful, “It’s been blonde since my debut-- more than five years, and I’ve never been able to get anyone to let me change it.”

His rambling falters as he realizes the ridiculousness of it all. Yoongi’s arm drops back to his side, and he sighs softly, head shaking, “I shouldn’t be saying this, angel, I’m sorry. You probably think it’s whiny,” He mumbles with a remorseful twinge, and you shake your head immediately, trying to speak in opposition to the idea but Yoongi goes on to finish, “I never thought about how much I hate pretending to be something until right now.”

“Yoongi,” Your grip on his shoulder shakes him slightly as your voice trickles out fervently for his ears to tune into. “It’s not wrong for you to feel bad about this-- if I never met you I would’ve been played by your management team too, but what people see of you in media isn’t you,” You frown, wondering if any of this makes any sense. “And you can be mad about that, Yoon, really. You didn’t want to be any of that-- I know you. I know it hurts having to follow along with everything without say, you can be mad about it. It’s okay to be.”

“I have everything else though-- they let me make my own music and everything, how am I supposed to be ungrateful about that one thing--” Yoongi grits his teeth as the retort sounded closer to an exclamation, but it’s infuriating in his mind. Escaping as frustration in blurring irises. “Why should I be complaining when you have it worse?”

Your thumbs acknowledge the tears before Yoongi’s senses do. In a startle his shoulders tense at the tiny brush to relieve his cheeks of trickling he desperately wishes would cease now that he realizes it escapes his eyes. Blinking tightly does nothing but expel more, and his jaw feels so pressured from clamming shut. “Yoon, if something hurts it hurts. Your problems aren’t less than mine.”

Yoongi wants to combat the claim, but your slight smile stops him. Empathetically bright like a small flame. He remains silent, as tension abandons his shoulders and similar words he’s said to you play through his mind. Tightening his lips together cause a new glistening trail from his eyes as remnants of the emotional flood drain away. Yoongi tugs you closer to him, arms encircle your waist to hug you as you settle your hands to rub soothingly through his hair.

“I know it’s just me saying this, but I think it’d be really hard to never be yourself in front of the world, Yoon.” You tell him while Yoongi’s face buries against your shoulder, hidden away but kept protectively close within your embrace. “You don’t have to keep it all in.”

Carefully, Yoongi’s arms tighten, clinging in a way to your person and all the safety it feels to dispel into him. He remains static as the tears in his eyes evaporate from the calmness of silence and a chance to recollect himself, yet feel much more relieving. Your fingertips seemingly perpetual massage against his scalp, and the stable feeling of you within his arms act as a constant, bringing back the equilibrium so everything feels manageable.

“I really don’t want you to go and talk to Yerin about my job, angel.” Yoongi murmurs after a small eternity of comforting quiet. As he pulls away only enough to look at you, he sees your expression changed into the slightest of dissatisfaction with his words. Realizing you clearly planned to say whatever you could, Yoongi smiles gently, face a little puffy from the tears. “I’m certain she won’t change her mind anyways.”

“But-” You start and immediately grow silent. Despite what he’s said, you can’t stop feeling responsible, and like you should be trying to help fix what Yoongi lost. However, the delay in the conversation let logic enter your head again and you know he’s right. Trying to get back in would be practically useless.

In the midst of your contemplation, Yoongi’s lips find yours in a short kiss, surprising your focus back to him. Leaving only a few centimeters of space, he speaks, “I’ll figure something out. Maybe this’ll be for the best.” Your immediate squeeze on his shoulder makes him momentarily puzzled, wondering if the last sentence sparked worry, but Yoongi doesn’t worry long as you very assertively reply,

“We’ll figure something out.” Subdued determined sparkles in your eyes, causing Yoongi’s head to imperceptibly nod as he registers the intention of paraphrasing his sentence with a different pronoun. Involving yourself into this matter. Yoongi’s lips curl upwards. “Whatever happens, at least you’ll be able to do it however you want, babe.”

“Babe?” He repeats, smile growing wider while your mouth shuts and your eyes avert. Finding an inkling of embarrassment in your pout as he points out the term of endearment you make a grumbling whine that Yoongi chuckles at. “Sorry, it was just cute.” He explains only serving to earn a glare from your growing flustered expression, “You’re right, angel. I don’t know what’ll happen, but we get to pick it all now.”

With the severity of the situation drifting in the ambiance, you both find further conversation puzzling. In favor of allowing your mind to wander, your rosy pigments simply fade as the question of what to do now perpetuates itself in the forefront of attention. By the way Yoongi rests is forehead back on your shoulder, and his fingers lock with each other as he holds you, you’re sure that despite both of your best intentions to remain positive, it’s difficult to do so.

The two of you have been cast aside from the backing of a company, and with the songs released only a day earlier, surely the loss of good reputation in the public hasn’t peaked yet. You haven’t even found the will to look through comments on the released tracks, and with everything going how it is, you’re not sure how you’ll be able to convince yourself to.

“Were you and Jin going to do something together earlier?”

“What?” You blink, then shove the thoughts in your head aside to recall the rest of the events that day. “Oh,” You shake your head as Yongi stands upright once more, letting his hands fall away from you. “No, we were just driving from Namjoon’s place.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow in pure confusion, “Just to drive around?”

At the memory of the situation in the cafe your voice falters in your throat. Not that you were unwilling to speak to Yoongi about the issue, but to begin with you weren’t certain if the three of you had overreacted, and with the added news from SoundWave you wanted to ignore that topic altogether. The last thing you wanted to give Yoongi was another thing to worry about, but when you recall the camera flash and the undeniable act of following you from the subway station, your hands curl from the thought.

“Well, not exactly,” Trusting the instinct in your heartbeat, you finally sigh, rubbing your hands together as you decide to tell him. You imagine despite the worry, Yoongi would want to know. “When the three of us were talking in the cafe like usual there was a group of a few kids-- I guess teenagers, that took a picture with the flash on and Seokjin called them out about it because he thought they were taking a picture of me.” Unable to look up at him as you recount the moment, you simply go on so as not to allow the residual discomfort of it all to make you go quiet. “And there was another table of people about the same age that had come in while we were all talking, and Joon was worried that they were all there to follow me, and,” You shrug. A strong waver that you’re acting overly sensitive brushes through your spine. “Jin and I left because of it… In case other people showed up. I don’t know if they were all really there for me though.”

“Angel,” You glance timidly up to Yoongi as he continues speaking softly, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” You say perhaps too quickly. Definitely too fast. Yoongi’s eyebrows crease, clearly bothered by what you just described. “I really don’t know if it was anything bad.” You eventually mumble.

“If you’re nervous like this, I think it gave you a bad feeling too, sweetie.” Yoongi cups your jaw, gently bringing your eyes back to his. “It does sound like they were there for you like Jin and Namjoon thought, to be honest with you.”

You sigh, squeezing your hands together.

“Hey,” He frowns, noticing the contorting signs of anxiousness invading your face. “Sweetie, it’s okay-”

“You think it’s going to get worse than today?” You ask in a small voice. Yoongi’s mouth closes, and the silent answer is enough for you to nod, “Okay,” A longer inhale feeds into your lungs and you let it settle there for passing seconds then release in a slow exhale. “Okay. I’ll have to get used to it then.” A false positivity tries to make itself real in your words.

“I’ll be with you too.” Yoongi says as his hands strays to brush hair from your face. “Not that it’s the biggest comfort,” He chuckles softly before you interrupt his doubting laughter by pressing your lips against his. Your hands tug his shoulders closer, deepening the kiss into lasting moments as Yoongi’s fingertips find your hips to grip onto.

“It’s actually the best comfort.” You murmur between breaths, letting the words collide against his rosy lips. “Thank you.”

Yoongi hums a reciprocation as you smile, then simply leans his head back to kiss you again. His hands travel up along your sides and down in smooth rubbing motions, while you allow your arms to cascade loosely around his neck. When there’s a need for oxygen do your lips part, to take in small breaths and Yoongi abandons your lips in favor of fluttering, sweet kisses along your cheek, erupting enamored giggles from you peacefully.

“I’m glad we were forced to date each other.”

“Shut up,” You laugh at the way light-hearted voice he speaks with. “You hated me.”

“Didn’t.” Yoongi shakes his head though he’s chuckling while randomly arranging more dotting ministrations all over your face in a languid manner that you feel no need to hinder. “I hated Yerin treating us however, but we don’t have to think about her anymore.”

“That actually sounds wonderful.” You admit with a growing grin. Yoongi smiles as he pulls his head away to look at you properly. “That’s the best thing that could’ve been said today.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, then squeezes your waist with a growing, endeared flurry filling his chest as you kiss his lips softly, in a simple manner. You nod smiling sincerely up at him, looking so much brighter than minutes earlier. More settled, Yoongi thinks, though he knows this isn’t the end of worries concerning everything going on. But it feels a little easier to face now. “Are you free the rest of the day?”

“Yeah. Should we go search for part-time jobs?” You tilt your head with the joke, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m free though. I’d actually really like to just be with you, if you are too.”

Yoongi smiles, biting his lip as he’s sure he’ll become visibly enamored by your sweet tone. He kisses you before you’re able to tease him about the flustering expression. “Maybe you won’t want to after hearing where I’m going to ask you to join me at.”

---

“Are you regretting it now?” Yoongi smiles as he turns the chair to look at you as you sit on a bench beside the hair styling station. With one of his caps propped atop your head, and another cap and his cardigan in a bundle on your lap, you shake your head, smiling at the appearance of his hair completely sectioned off in bunches. Having been wrapped neatly in tin foil, you know this is entering into the latter portion of the impromptu hair appointment having already spent close to two hours in the conditioning treatment phase.

“No, because we’re going to eat after this so I have the love of my life to look forward to.” You search your pocket for your phone to memorialize the appearance as Yoongi whines knowingly,

“Don’t take pictures; I look like an android.”

“More like an alien, babe.” You grin as you snap a series of pictures, while Yoongi starts the shoot with a scowl that turns into a wide unamused smile when you pout at him for cooperation. “Aw, you’re adorable.”

“I’m going to take pictures of you scarfing down food.” He mutters to himself, as he turns the chair back towards the mirror. Yoongi examines the situation atop his head as the dye works to make itself permanent over the locks of blonde hair he’s had for the majority of his adult life. Sitting there he feels a build up of anticipation for the end result, an excitement mixed with a doubtful wonder about if he would look familiar after returning his hair to its natural color.

Glancing back towards you, he finds your cheeks puffed in concentration as you click around rampantly on your phone. Probably adding ridiculous filters or stickers to the pictures of him you just took. Yoongi smiles, finding it both amazing and strange that he’s grown so close to you throughout the passing year. Warmed at the prospect of the change he’s gone through so far, despite the uncertainty of what’s to come.

Where the year prior he felt incapable of acting completely as he wants, now Yoongi feels encouraged by you to do what he wants in the way that you’re also trying your best to change your life back into your own control.

“Oh, Joon’s calling me,” You say out of surprise by the screen changing suddenly on your phone.

“It’s sort of loud in here, why don’t you talk to him in the lobby?” Yoongi offers while the barrage of hair dryers and chatter in the evening portion of the business day reigns on. You nod, standing up and clutching his items against your chest as you begin to walk off, “Sweetie, you can just leave my stuff there,” Yoongi chuckles as you only become aware of his clothing as he’s brought it to your attention. Laughing bashfully you neatly plop the items,

“Right, I wasn’t thinking.” You admit sheepishly before gently prodding your fingertip into his cheek when he begins to grin. “Be right back.”

After your leave, Yoongi reaches to the messy countertop below the mirror for his own phone. Knowing he’s left it on silent all day along with not checking up on any notifications, he isn’t surprised to find a multitude of alerts in a line on the lock screen. Dismissing the majority of social media ones, he instead opens the text thread that he left alone earlier after saying he’ll text back later in the evening.

Hoseok, 2:24pm: Get back to me whenever you feel able. I know it’s hard to deal with, but I’m always here, bro.

Yoongi, 6:35pm: I’m doing the impulsive haircut route.

Hoseok, 6:37pm: Please tell me you’re doing a glamorous pink color?

Yoongi laughs, looking up as his stylist walks over from down the aisle. Peeking carefully beneath the tin foil to check the coloring, he works silently while Yoongi responds.

Yoongi, 6:40pm: Not this time, sorry. Also, I’m sure you’re worried and I really have no clue what I’m going to do yet, but I’m okay.

“It looks ready to go,” The stylist nods to himself, and begins to remove a bunch of tin foil one by one. “I’m usually touching up your roots, so I was pretty surprised when you wanted the exact opposite this time.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says as he hears the crinkling of the shiny metallic papers that propel his heart into an excited beat. “I like it this way a lot more than the blonde.”

“Sure it’s not your girlfriend isn’t the one who does?” He asks with no ill-will, just a smile at the joking banter while he looks at the dark locks heavy with the dye. Yoongi take a moment to respond as he also catches the stark difference of color being revealed atop his head.

“No, I don’t think she’s ever seen me with black hair.” Yoongi says without focus, while thinking more about the ease of maintaining his hair now that he won’t have to come in every other week to bleach his roots. Without any of the tinfoil obscuring his view, he finds himself biting his lip as his cold locks of hair weigh down on his scalp, only now needing a rinse and dry to fully reveal what the new style of his natural hair will look like.

“Well, let’s give her a nice surprise then. Follow me back to get it shampooed and conditioned.”

“Namjoon,” You roll your eyes at your friend whining through the receiver about a customer that just walked out leaving their drink mostly untouched. “I’m sure the drink tastes fine, dude.”

“They just left it though,” He gripes on, muttering incomprehensibly as you assume he cleans up the remnants. “This is the best-selling drink right now-”

“Joon, you said you wanted to tell me something,” You laugh as you rub your face, back leaning against a wall beside the check-in counter for the salon.

“Oh, right.” You shake your head at the fact his voice sounds entirely surprised that he forgot the entire reason for calling you while he spent the last twenty minutes complaining about customers throughout the day. “Some other kids came in awhile after you and Jin left-- well maybe they were more like teenagers.” You bite your lip so as not to laugh at the similar rambling he does like you had. “But anyways, they definitely came in hoping to spot you. They were asking me if I was friends with you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your grip on the phone tightens as you think about the other groups following you for pictures and now even this one came in to directly search for you.

“Yeah, they wanted to know because they wanted me to tell you that they really liked the music you and Yoongi made together.” Your grip lessens as his words enter your ear. With a surprised stupor you let him continue right along. “They’re big fans of Yoongi, but they think you did a really good job on the music. They were saying it’s probably hard considering all the other stuff being said on the internet.”

“Really?”

Namjoon remains quiet, smiling gently at the utterly shocked tone of your voice. Knowing the day you’ve had has likely been full of stressful news, he also feels better about things as he recounts the information to you. “Yeah, they were really sincere about it.”

Even after ending the phone call you find yourself stunned silent from the opposite news that you anticipated from Namjoon as he first started to tell you about the fans. With a smile growing at the potential for others to have similar perspectives, you feel lighter. This isn’t the ideal scenario to play out for releasing music, but you’ll take the good out of it in stride. It’s the best thing to do after all.

“Angel,” Your shoulders startle from your thoughts as Yoongi’s voice calls out to you from the side. You turn your head as he walks over. “Your phonecall took forever-”

“Whoa,” Your mouth stays open wide as your eyes go straight to the dark hair atop his head. Turning on your heel in surprise as you continue to take in the new style, you find it to be so different. Obviously it would be, but the fact that you couldn’t properly imagine his hair like this until seeing it as you stand there leaves you in awe. “Yoon, it looks so nice.”

“You think so?” You become aware of his voice’s timidness, clearly still in suspense on what your verdict would be on the style. Yoongi’s eyes meet yours when you finally look towards them from his black hair. He feels his chest tighten as you smile up at him and nod your head.

“I like it a lot.”

Yoongi’s lips curl in satisfaction, his heart swelling even more so as you take the step closer so you can reach up to immerse your fingers in the fluffy, night-like hair. Unable to contain the swift kiss on your lips that lasts only a moment because of location, Yoongi’s mouth grows into a grin as he states peacefully, “Me too.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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