#hes busy enough as is w the house and my brothers i wanna help where i can

[kitty-used]

Mockingbird: Part 1

Y/N, a normal 17 year old high school girl living in the dangerous side of Tokyo, Japan. One day she meets a pair of twins who seem to be hurt. She asks for their name, to which my reply Ran and Rindou. What will happen next?

“Fuck- it’s so damn hot tokay!” I yelled in frustration, walking out of school and home, a dingy little house with neglecting parents. I tried to keep up with my parents until my 18th birthday and move out with the money I saved secretly since I started middle school, which was about 10k. I already had my paperwork ready and I would be graduating high school next year which will give me enough time to prepare to get out. I didn’t plan to go to college but instead work in a small shop, preferably a mechanic store. “….yea…I can’t wait to get out, just keep up with them for a couple months y/n!” Talking to myself, lost deep in my thoughts. “Hey..don’t pass out on me now!…Rin!!” I heard a child yelling in the distant. I turned back on my heels and headed towards the noise, where I saw two injured kids.

“Hey! Are you guys okay?” I yelled running towards them. They looked way worse up close. “What happened to you kids? Where are your parents?” I asked them quickly in concern. “Who are you?!” The little kid with the braids shouted at me and shielded him brother. Oh… I felt so bad for them right now.. I’ll get them patched up. “Hello, I’m Y/N and I saw you two badly beaten up and I jus’ wan’td to help ya’! The kid with the braids, who looked like the older brother seemed to become less afraid of me. “It’s none of your business! Since when did you people start caring about us?!” He yelled in pain and frustration, I could see him trying to not tear up and look strong in front of his brother. “Kid I’m not here to hurt ya.. I just wanna know what happened so I could give you a helping hand. How about we go and sit on the bench over there while I patch you two up, okay?” The kids seems hesitant at first but they knew they wouldn’t be able to take the pain anymore and walked with me towards the bench. I took out my small case of first aid kit, a few bandaids and cleaning solution.

“Kids you’re gonna have to trust me on this, I promise to be gentle.” I said in a soft voice. “W-why are you helping us..?” The braided kid asked and sounded as if he was gonna breakdown any minute. “Kid I just wanna help you get cleaned up.” I said while cleaning their wounds, which was quite literally all over their body so I had to be extra gentle. “Tell me, what are your names? And where are your parents?” The brothers went pale when asked that question. “What’s wrong? Don’t be scared, just trust me right now.” “My name is Ran Haitani and my twins name is Rindou Haitani… o-our parents- we don’t know where they are… they haven’t been home since last night. It’s not uncommon for them though so we was surprised when ya wanted to help us!”

My heart felt heavy when he said that, and with a happy face as well. “Well… do you know their phone number?” I said trying to not show them any sign of judgement in case they run away from me. “No… we don’t know anything about them.. even their names so we jus’ call ‘em’ mom and dad.” “That’s.. I’m sorry, you two don’t deserve to go through this. I-I may be overstepping my boundaries right now, but I can look after you two, not all times but when ya need to to!”

They twins looked shocked when they heard that. “We don’t even know each other though!” “Of course we do, we know each other’s names and I wanna help ya out in any way I can! Don’t worry about anything now, your big sis got ya now!” The twins looked scared at the random stranger they just met but felt safe enough to begin depending on her. “Rin, do you want to her to be our big sis?” “Yeaaa!! We have a big sis to take care of us now Ran!” Ran sighed in relief and seemed calm now. “Fine, we will accept you as our big sis!” Ran and Rin said ecstatically. “Deal! Just depend on me for now. I’m here for you now so don’t worry about anything.”

I wonder how my life changed so suddenly. What will it be like now? What about my future…? But these kids come first!

Wait for Part 2 of Mockingbird <3

#tokyo revengers #haitani brothers #high school au #fluff #Angst #Violence

[petersnya]

obviously obsessed | peter p

i just found this blurd in my google docs and had to post it! idk y I didn’t post it earlier like I’m in love with this + it feeds my Peter Parker obsession and my HAYDEN FUCKING CHRISTENSEN obsession 😻 full oneshot coming soon!!

“Are you kidding me right now?” your eyes were glued to the movie playing in front of you, revenge of the sith, as a smirk moved to your lips. The annoyed voice of Peter sounded in your ears. “What?”, you asked with a shrug- even though you knew exactly what he was on about.

Well, more importantly, Anakin Skywalker.

You always loved anakin- even when he joined the side of the siths. But now it was different. Anakin was what was always on your mind. Then you got a boyfriend.

Don't get me wrong.. You and Peter were like best friends and the perfect couple. You two fit together like puzzle pieces…in many ways. Your interest was his interest, and vice versa. It was amazing to have someone have such a passion for the things you loved dearly. But there were always problems in a relationship.

“I can't watch this anymore with you.”

“W-what? Why?” your gaze struggled to tear from the screen as you stood to follow Peter who had quickly stood from the coach and down the narrow hall of your parents house. The sound of you bare feet chasing after Peter echoed in the hall.

“Dude, what's up with you?” you let out a chuckle once you and peter reached your closed room door. He turned to face you quickly, “everytime we watch a movie with Hayden fucking Christensen in it, you always zone out!- you look like you wanna fuck him through the tv,” you and peter sat in and awkward silence for a few seconds, then his eyes widened at the realization- “oh my fucking-”

“I'm kidding! Not really but I ammm!”

You couldn't lie.. Hayden Christensen was the world finest man. There was no changing that- hell, he was the universe's finest man. Even Peter could see that. But he couldn't help but feel jealous when you would mention him. Or when he would be on your phone. Your lockscreen was a picture of you, Peter and you brother- the three of you dressed as star wars characters, standing in the middle of universal studios with lightsabers. But when you unlocked your phone, there was a huge widget of hayden christensen- other people were in the picture, but you scribbled their faces out. And whenever Peter went to scroll through your tiktok page, all that was there were edits of Anakin, or other characters he played like Stephen Glass from shattered glass- Lorenzo from Virgin Territory (which was a very bad movie but Hayden was so hot in it.) Some edits you had on your fyp of the released film for the Avengers fights that people edited. Majority of them were even Spider-Man edits.. Just not nearly enough for Peter's liking.

You even had your own edit account for Star Wars (more specifically, Anakin) which you got pretty good at, but I mean who wouldn’t? Its Hayden fucking Christensen.

“Ok, ok I’m sorry. But you have celebrity crushes too!”

“Yea but i'm not obsessed with them,” you scoffed at this claim, even though it was true. Peter let out a dry laugh as he opened the door to your room and marched over to your closet.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you followed behind him. He then pulled out a big black sweatshirt that you had got from some instagram small business that was anakin inspired. It has a pretty sick picture of him in it and the quote of his from ROTS ‘you underestimate my power.’ He then pulled from behind his back your own version of a lightsaber that was in the picture of your lock screen.

“Oh come on.. It's a damn sweatshirt- and you have Anakin's version of a lightsaber! We got them together. I'm a big fan, what can I say,” you said with a smile and a shrug. Peter holds up a finger and walks over to your bed. You folded your arms and waited.

“And this?” you gazed over at him with a calm expression that soon washed away- your mouth fell open.

“Where did you find that?” you questioned as you rushed over to grab the blanket he was holding. It was a huge blanket that you had under your comforter every night. It had haydens face all over it. Your face went red as Peter stared at you with a glint in his eyes. You groaned and tossed the blanket on your bed.

“Alright, I might have a problem,” you walked over to Peter and hugged him, “but you're still my ani.”

“I'll let it slide just this once,” Peter hugged you back and kissed your cheek gently with such love and compassion.

But you were serious. You were the padme to his anakin.. Before episode III.

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel mcu #peter parker angst #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #mcu fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #tom holland fluff #fluff #long reads #angst #smut #spider man #marvel #peter parker x y/n

[fallensimeon]

Take Me For A Ride (NSFW 18+)

A spicy F!MC x Mammon smut mixed with a little angst and fluff, my first time trying out writing! Don’t judge too harshly, I tried my best y’know!

Topic warnings: F!MC, angst, smut, fluff, intercourse, car sex, fellatio, rough play (nearly BDSM-ish), biting, blood, curse words, yelling, dirty talking. Read at your own risk! 

Words: 5,419

Y/N has enough of the brothers attacking Mammon, and comforts him when he needs her the most. One thing leads to another, and, well... let’s just say they go for the ride of a lifetime.

18+! MINORS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

It was a gloomy day down in the Devildom, just one of those days where tensions were high in the House of Lamentation. You were in your room, having just completed your homework so you began studying for a test coming up in the next few days. You had a good feeling you were going to ace it, so you began to organize your books and papers and stash them away in your bag.

You were tired. You had felt overworked as of late, always having work to do, or having one of the brothers drag you into one of their troubles as usual. But today? Nobody had reached out. Everyone had seemed so distant from one another. That wasn’t normal, it was always loud in the house no matter where you went. The fact that it was so quiet for once was shocking.

You finished packing up your school supplies and leaned your backpack against your desk in your room. You just wanted to relax, so you decided to ease your chest and arms comfortably onto your desk and scroll through Devilgram for a while. Looking through the brothers’ profiles always put a smile on your face, because they sometimes posted the most hilarious pictures. However, you found yourself on Mammon’s profile for the longest. 

He was a model, of course he was stunning. Perfectly-tanned skin, luscious snow white locks gracing his head, the most beautiful blue eyes that almost glowed gold. You could never tell him how you really felt, he would just push you away. Plus, there was probably some model out there who was after him already anyways. Why would Mammon want to be with some weak human?

You jumped slightly as a text notification popped up on your screen.

“Dinner is ready, please make your way to the dining hall. You wouldn’t want Beel to get to your plate first,” Lucifer sent. You chuckled and began to make your way down to have dinner. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was earlier that day.

You make it down to the dining hall, not a single of the brothers making eye contact with you. You froze in your tracks. You can’t lie, that hurt a little bit, you figured at least one of them might greet you.

♡

“Good to see you, Y/N. Come, take a seat. I know you have been working hard up there, you need to eat well,” Lucifer stated, a slight smile on his face. He was glad that at least one of you was focused on your studies that day.

You smiled, finally someone broke the awkward silence. “Thank you Lucifer.”

You made your way around the long table to find an open seat. Your heart fluttered as you walked your way past Mammon, smelling the arousing scent of his cologne waft past your face. You smiled and let out a low but happy sigh, and he looked up for just a second having heard you, a light blush on his face. “Y’know I don’t bite, you can come sit next to me human,” Mammon said lightly, making eye contact with you for the first time that day.

You felt a shudder run down your spine. His voice is so alluring, you could listen to it all day every day. A blush forms on your cheeks as you take a seat next to him.

Everyone around you is surprisingly in their own conversations with one another, which is pretty odd after earlier. Although, you were happy to hear the voices of all of your favorite people around the room. You couldn’t dare to complain, it was nice seeing everyone let go of the awkward tension that had previously filled the House of Lamentation. This, however, was short-lived.

You were almost done with your dinner, only a few forkfuls left, when you heard an argument start. “Oh great, here we go again,” you thought to yourself as you looked up to see Lucifer standing up behind Mammon. You didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“You worthless scumbag, what did you do with my new Ruri-chan figure?!” Levi yelled, close enough to Mammon’s face to spit on him whilst speaking.

“My new perfume went missing too, I bet it had something to do with that idiot,” Asmo shouted across the table at him, a sour glare on his face.

“Come to think of it, my new mystery novel went missing last night, I was going to read it but I couldn’t find it,” Satan added to the fire.

The twins began to spew on about how much of a moron Mammon was, him having done nothing to either of them. Lucifer began to holler at Mammon about every little thing he finds wrong when you realize that was the last straw. You weren’t going to sit there and let everyone torment the demon that meant most to you. You looked over at Mammon, trembling in his seat, trying to hold back tears as his brothers kept pushing him further and further over the edge. He looked like he could break at any second. You know for a fact he didn’t take anyone’s things, he was with you all day yesterday. It couldn’t have been him.

“KNOCK IT OFF, ALL OF YOU! BACK OFF! I THINK HE’S HAD ENOUGH ALREADY!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. The boys all froze in shock and fear, never expecting that out of you. Tears began to stream down your face. You never thought you would see the day that you would have to break up an argument, especially when the only people Mammon trusted were his brothers. Seeing them all treat him like shit made you angry  and upset.

“Y/N...” Lucifer sighed and began to speak, but you weren’t going to give him the chance to continue.

“C’mon Mammon, you don’t deserve this, let’s get out of here,” you gently took hold of Mammon’s hand and dragged him away from the table towards his bedroom. The dining hall fell completely silent once again.

♡

You make it all the way to Mammon’s bedroom door when he stops you in your tracks, pulling your arm back towards him lightly. You turn around to see his cheeks burning red, the tears that formed earlier finally starting to come down his face. He looked somewhat relieved, somewhat embarrassed at the same time. He just barely lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

“You didn’t have to go and do that for me human, ya know I can’t handle m’self, right? I-I just needed to think of what t’say...” he said softly, not enough confidence in his voice for you to believe it for a second.

He was shaking, more so than when he usually gets yelled at. You gently let go of his hand and lifted your hand to cup his right cheek, brushing away his tears with your thumb. He felt so warm.

“Mammoney, I wasn’t just going to sit there and let them stomp all over you like that. They have NO evidence to prove that you took anything from them, but they kept going anyway. I’m so sick of their bullshit, watch them find all of their things that they misplaced themselves. I hope they hate themselves for treating you like that.” You loosened your hand from his cheek and tucked your body against his, arms wrapped around his warm shoulders, bringing him in for a cozy embrace.

This broke him. He leaned into your embrace, the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into the crook of your neck. The two of you stood in a hug for at least 2 minutes straight, neither of you daring to break away. It just felt so nice, you never wanted to let go.

“Th-thank you Y/N, I’m glad you trust me enough t’know I wouldn’t steal their boring stuff. Why would I need Asmo’s perfume, let alone Satan’s book? Y’know, I-I wonder if they think before they point f-fingers like that. C’mon human, let’s get inside, I just w-wanna relax.” Mammon explains with the slightest blushy grin on his face. He opens the door to let you in first, and closes it behind him.

You had never been in Mammon’s room before, he’s never let you in before now. Your eyes scanned around the room, in awe of how cozy it was. His plush leather sofa and a mahogany wood pool table beside it, bottles of alcohol and a few grimm strewn across it. He has a projector rather than a television, two speakers beside the coffee table below it. He has an open concept closet, adorned with studio lights, and his bed pressed flush on the other side of the wall. His room has two floors, the only things up there being his entryway door... and a car? How did he get this in here? What kind of car was it? How interesting. Rather than walking down the stairs as Mammon was expecting you to do, you made your way towards his car and leaned against the hood.

“Is this your car? It’s so amazing! I can’t imagine how much money you must have put into this beauty,” you exclaimed, being somewhat an admirer of cars, having been raised by your father who’s life revolves around them. You grazed your hand over the headlights and the grill along the front, a glint in your eyes from the spotlights shining down on you and the car.

Mammon was standing next to the door, choked up to say the very least. He was blushing furiously, gripping into his lush white hair with his hand, head tilted down and giggling. “Y’mean my Demonia? It’s nothing really, Lucifer helped me get it a while back once I got my license. Pretty cool right? Of course the Great Mammon is cool!” he chuckled, barely able to keep eye contact with you. The truth was, the car meant a lot to him and it did cost a lot, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. He was too busy staring you down, lights glistening against your soft skin, looking oh-so-hot leaned up against his car like that. Little did you know you were his treasure, he admired you every second he got, whether you realized it or not. He began to walk over to you, leaning next to you on the hood, resting his hand softly against yours, interlocking fingers with you.

Needless to say, you were surprised. You jumped slightly at his touch, hesitant to move. You returned the favor regardless, locking your fingers between his, the warmth of his body flushing through your veins, instantly calming you. He means everything to you, and now this? How can you not tell him how you feel now? This was the best opportunity you could get your hands on. You let go of his hand and made your way off of the hood of the car, locked his bedroom door, dimmed his lights slightly, and made your way back over to him. You inched closer to him, barely hugging distance away.

He was looking up at you softly, still blushing. He was shaking a little bit, but you were too, of course. Now was your chance. It was now or never. Either you tell him how you feel now, or hold it in and never find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

♡

“Mammon, you know I care about you... more than myself sometimes, if I’m being honest. Any time I see you enter the room or my eyes meet up with you, I get tons of butterflies inside. You make me feel like I’m not just some useless human that nobody likes. You make me feel special, and I just want you to know that... I love you. I’m in love with you...” you paused, too nervous to continue.

Mammon.exe has stopped working. You... love HIM? The moron, the idiot, the scumbag? You deserve better, but he can’t deny how he really feels. His brothers aren’t anywhere around, so now’s his chance.

“I-human I... I love you too. Y’mean everything to me. I can’t stand seeing my brothers eyeing you up and taking all of my time with ya away from me. You’re MY human... my... my treasure. You deserve better than me, I’m just some lousy good-for-nothi-” he couldn’t speak anymore. You held him by his cheeks and pulled his face to yours, kissing him on his lips. The first tender moment shared between the two of you, your first kiss. He sits still for a moment before realizing what’s happening, leaning into your kiss and holding you by your waist. Your chests graze against one another as the kiss turns more passionate. Mammon slides his tongue against your lips asking for permission before you slide your tongue in between his. You felt higher than a kite at that moment, the butterflies seemingly flying out through the top of your head.

Before long, you were straddling his lap on the hood of his car, breathing into his neck as he planted kisses along your collarbone, nibbling at you and caressing your lower back. You both pulled away from each other to look into each others’ eyes.

“So this is really happening huh?” you blush and look down, feeling a tad bit shy. Mammon brings his hand up to your cheek, some of his fingers lacing into your hair. “We don’t have to do anything ya don’t wanna do, but first...” he places his hands lovingly on your hips and looks into your eyes. “I want you to be mine and only mine, ya hear? No mackin’ on my brothers or anythin’... you’re MY treasure. Well, if you’ll let me have ya...” he starts blushing too, barely able to keep his eyes on you. The words you have been waiting to hear, that you’re HIS and only his... it makes you melt. You hold onto his hips, and lean in to whisper into his ear. “Of course I’m yours, and only yours. You can have all of me if you want it, and I mean ALL of me...” you whisper and nibble on his earlobe, a smirk forming across your face.

He can’t hold back anymore. He slams his mouth against yours in the most passionate kiss, moaning against your lips and pulling you in closer, pressing you against his chest. His hands start to slip under your shirt, making their way up your bare back until he reaches about midway. He looks at you as if he’s asking permission, to which you respond by grazing your hands over his upper thighs. You lean in once again to whisper sensually, “So have you ever done it in your car?”

♡

His excitement cannot be contained, his body heats up hotter as the bulge in his pants grows harder. Without another word, Mammon scoots off of the car, grabbing you underneath your thighs and carrying you into the backseat of his car, placing you gently while he pushes the seats back and reclining them back further. The open space has grown larger. He climbs his way into the car and shuts the door behind him, hovering over you.

He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to undress you. He slips your uniform jacket off followed by your tank top, revealing your black lace bralette. You whisper in his ear “You like that? I bet you’ll like it more when you see the panties I have to match.”

You set off a fire in his chest, a low growl seeping out from his throat. He sheds his uniform jacket and tears off his undershirt, a huge ripping noise emerging, making you increasingly wet as the tension increases. His bare chest is a glorious sight to behold... so sexy and strong, so protective.

He pushes you back against the seat and makes room to slide off your uniform pants, whilst you slide your shoes off and kick them into the passenger seat beside you. He makes his way down to your feet, carefully sliding off your socks which he notices have a grimm pattern on them, and slyly smirks. His eyes scan your exposed skin from your head to your toes and back up, revving him up even more.

♡

He begins to kiss you from your feet, up your calves and your thighs, until he reaches your inner thighs. Your black lace panties meet his face, becoming more and more flushed. He slides his hands up to the waistband and toys with the lace, planting his face against the fabric. That smell... the smell of arousal... it’s so strong. He could only imagine how wet you are for him. He looks up at you and you nod, giving permission to continue.

Mammon growls and grabs your waistband with his teeth, the sound of tearing lace floods the car. You moan in response, wishing you could hear him like this all the time. Your hands reach down to your now exposed heat and stroke the lips, shining from how slick he made you. Mammon’s eyes start shining, staring down as if he’s a predator who’s just hunted down his prey. He licks his lips and flashes his teeth, slight fangs showing. You spread your lips for him and make your legs more comfortable, inviting him to take a taste.

“Mn... you’re so perfect Y/N, so wet for me, I can almost taste it,” he leans down and begins lapping his tongue at your clit. Shudders run up and down your spine from the senastion, bringing out a sensual moan from your chest, back arching. Mammon grips onto your thighs and holds them open. He drags his tongue up and down your opening, sliding it inside of you. He moans into you, admiring how you taste, your flavor. He makes his way back up to your clit, the tip of his tongue dancing around it. He looks up and you and smirks, sliding two fingers inside of you, pulsing them in and out at a steady pace, curling his fingertips from time to time. You can’t help but let out a moan, never having felt so stimulated and so turned-on before.

“M-Mammon... p-p-please... k-keep going b-baby...” you moaned out as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Did you just call him your baby? Oh, he heard that. He wants to hear it again. He pulses his fingers inside you faster and faster, sucking on your clit, giving you no mercy. The heat inside of you is unbearable. You begin to buck your hips against his face and grab him by the hair, pushing him against your heat, your other hand gripping tightly against the leather seat below you,

It was taking everything Mammon had to not whip himself out and slam himself into you, but he had to make himself more comfortable. As he continued, he used his left hand to undo his pants, releasing his bulge hidden by his boxers. He was only getting harder as you moaned his name again and again.

“I’m... I’m gonna.. gaaaAAAHH!” you moaned out as you reached your orgasm, letting your grip loose from his hair as your body let go of the tension. Mammon laps his tongue down to clean up the mess you made. He gathers some on his tongue, looking up to you with his tongue sticking out, when he suddenly takes it into his mouth and swallows you.

He notices the flaming blush that adorns your cheeks. He brings himself up, sitting on your thighs, his bulge prominent. You stare down his body, glazed in sweat, realizing he lapsed into his demon form as you came down from your orgasm. His horns were shining, wings folded against his back as the car wasn’t a big enough space to let them free. You were positioned on the driver’s side back passenger’s seat, so you decided to slide into the center seat. You reach your hands to touch Mammon’s back, stroking his wings ever so gently. He moans in response, realizing he’s sensitive there. You begin to help guide them open as he leans into you. They fly open and block the whole view out of the windshield, darkening the space between you.

♡

Your hands come down to meet his waistband, tugging on it carefully. You look up into Mammon’s eyes, he can see the desire written over your face. He makes his bulge dance in response, prompting you to go for it. You drag down his boxers and out springs his length, glistening from his precum. It looks so tasty. You lean back in your seat to where you are practically laying down, gripping behind his thighs and urging him to come forward. He was on his knees, his length shadowing over your chest, his tip just barely against your lips. You hold yourself up by your elbows, turning up to him, teasing him “I bet you want your cock in my mouth, don’t you Mammon? You want to see your fragile human squirm under you, taking all of you inside of them?”

Oh, you did it now. His claws getting ever so longer as a growl comes from deep in his chest. “If you want it, show me just how badly,” your last words as he gripped your hair and pushed your mouth around his length, letting out a choke. He moaned in pleasure as he felt himself at the back of your throat, vibrations coming from you barely fitting him inside you. Mammon begins thrusting his hips back and forth, you sucking up on his length oh-so-perfectly. The smell of arousal and the sound of moans fill the car, enveloping both of you. All either of you can feel is bliss. He breaks the silence. 

“Y-Y/N... y-you’re so warm, ya s-suck me off so well, k-keep going, I’m getting close-” He can’t speak anymore, feeling the surge of pleasure rush up through his thighs as you swirl your tongue around him, bringing him to the edge. You pull your mouth off of his length and put his hand around it, urging him to get himself off. “I would love if the Great Mammon would cum for me, I want to feel it all over my face, I want you to make me yours, show me who owns me,” you moan up at him, pulling down your bra to release your warm breasts, toying with them to tease him.

“Oh f-fuck, y-you’re all mine, my treasure, my b-baby, I’m.. I’m...” he groans out, and he’s pushed over the edge. He bucks forward, letting out a deep deep growl, moaning your name and climaxing all over your face and your chest, his cum hot against your skin. He looks down at you taking his load and lets out another groan, watching as you lap it up with your fingertips, eventually licking them clean.

♡

He pushes you down against the leather seats, his length rubbing against your throbbing heat, aching for you. You let out a squeal from your sensitivity, your chest arching up towards him. You reach your hands down to try to push him into you but he stops you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He pushes his lips firmly against yours, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Your chests are touching, he’s just about burning you with the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away from your face and looks down to you, it looks like he wants to say something. He looks... nervous? After all of that?

“Mammon, are you okay?” you asked gently, turning your head slightly, a smile on your face. “Y-yeah, I just don’t wanna hurt ya. I tried to open ya up for me but what if it’s too much for your human body to handle?” he sighs and stares away for a moment. He loosens the grip on your wrists and you cup both of his cheeks, whispering up at him softly, “I trust you with my life, Mammon. I feel so safe with you, you’re my protector. The Great Mammon. I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you right away. It’s okay baby.”

He nods and smiles with a blush in response, he couldn’t be happier to hear you say those words to him, as unexpected as they are.

You spread open your legs for him, situating your body in a more comfortable spot, preparing for the time of your life. You lift yourself up with your hands and whisper into his ear, “Take me for a ride, won’t you?”

♡

He growls and stretches his arms and his back, preparing himself. You want a ride? A ride is what you’re gonna get, and it’s gonna be a bumpy one.

He picks up your bottom half by your thighs, dragging you towards him, putting you in the perfect position. He takes hold of his length and lines himself up with your opening, rubbing his tip up and down your heat. You squirm under him, pleading with him in your head, dying for him to give you what you’ve only dreamed of for nearly a year now. He hears you struggling and lets out a low chuckle, a bit evil. He likes to see you all worked up for him, there’s nothing better, honestly.

He begins sliding his length inside of you, the heat from within immediately making him jolt. He can’t help the arousal from feeling you around him, squeezing him tight. You let out a small whimper and look up to him, concern suddenly written all over his face.

Your wrists had been freed a while ago so you take this opportunity to grab onto his soft bottom, pushing him further into you, moaning right in his ear. It hurts... it hurts so good. He’s so big compared to you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits the deepest parts of you. You must have awakened something in him, the look in his eyes giving him an almost primal vibe. He leans down and whispers into your ear along with a growl “That’s a good human, take all of me inside of ya, scream my name, ‘m gonna fuck you so hard ya won’t walk for a week...”

He thrusts in and out of you at a fast pace, hitting your core over and over again. You’re both moaning and groaning into each others’ ears. Mammon grips hard onto the headrests of the seats, pounding into you like it’s his last day to live. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, you can’t help but claw your nails down, leaving red scratches all over his back. He almost hisses in response, causing you to moan out louder. He takes his right hand and brings it to your throat, silencing you. Your eyes roll back into your head once again, your back arching and your hands gripping tight against the leather seats, nearly ripping them open.

♡

His thrusts speed up, bringing you closer and closer to the biggest orgasm of your life. Mammon's hand around your throat, you try to let out a sentence, “Mammoney baby, I’m gonna c-cum for you, p-please, d-don’t hold back,” you managed to say. His face goes beat red and wings flutter behind him. 

You stroke his horns atop his head, barely letting out one last sentence. “F-fill me up with your cum, m-mark your t-territory, I’m a-all yours-” your sentence is cut off as your orgasm takes over your body, Mammon releasing your throat, you proceeding to scream his name in pleasure as you gripped his length inside of you, trying to juice him.

He pounds his length into you faster and faster, bringing himself to the edge of his climax. He can’t hold back, can’t speak. He brings his head down to bite your neck, leaving teeth marks and a little bit of blood afterwards, marking you as his. He sucks on his marking and groans out loudly in pleasure, unable to contain himself any longer. You can feel his length twitch as he fills you up inside, heating the inner walls of your core, giving you the most butterflies you’ve ever had.

♡

You both look down and giggle along with deep breaths, you did a number to the seats of his car. You look at him in worry as he sees the condition of the leather. He notices that you look scared so he holds you tight to him, body-to-body warmth between you.

“I can already tell what you’re ‘bout to say, and it’s alright. Y’mean more to me than some leather seats. Now I can look at my seats ‘n remember my first time with ya, amirite?” he says with a smile, placing the most gentle of kisses on your lips, glazed with sweat.

You go to try to stand up to get out of the car but your body is beyond it’s limits. Mammon notices you struggling to get up and chuckles. “I told ya you wouldn’t be able t’walk for a while.”

♡

He pulls his boxers back on and picks you up bridal style out of the car seat, carrying you down the stairs and onto his bed gently. He remembers tearing up your underwear so he dashes to his closet, finding one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of pajama pants and swiftly bringing them over to the bed.

“Put these on, we don’t need ya walking out with stains on your uniform and no underwear,” he explains with a giggle. He looked up at you to see you looking sad. “What’sa matter treasure?”

“Well, I was hoping... maybe... that I could stay with you for the night?” you ask, nervously waiting for a response. Mammon helps you take off your bralette and get dressed in his comfy clothes, and cups your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Of course y’can stay with me, you’re my human! My treasure! Who wouldn’t wanna stay with the Great Mammon anyway?” he smirks and chuckles, you smacking his chest in return.

He crawls up into the bed with you, laying you next to him and pulling your back into his chest. He covers you both with his bedspread and begins rubbing your arms, resting his cheek against your ear. He had never felt this way before. He really fell for a human. Does he regret it? Not at all, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only problem now? Now he feels like he has to protect you forever, all the time. He loves you too much to ever see you get hurt.

“S-so... does this mean... y-you’re my girlfriend?” Mammon let out shyly, almost expecting you to say something negative or reject him.

You turn back to face him, your arm around his waist. You smile up at him, “I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend... your treasure.” You plant the lightest kiss on his forehead and turn back around as he begins to spoon you again. Within the next few minutes, you fell asleep in his arms, not a care in the world, no thoughts besides the thought of being his treasure forever.

♡

The brothers felt bad about what happened earlier and were worried about Mammon’s well-being. Lucifer approached his door with the brothers, quickly realizing it’s locked. He took his master keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked Mammon’s door. He took a few steps in and froze in place. His brothers glanced with him over his shoulder to see Mammon with his arms around you, protecting you, sleeping next to you.

They all couldn’t bring themselves to make a sound. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Y/N... and Mammon?

“It’s about time he told her how he felt!” Asmo shouted as the brothers all shushed him, not wanting to wake the two of you.

“We can talk to him in the morning, let him have peace for once today. I can only imagine Y/N needs rest as well,” Lucifer explained.

Lucifer and the brothers turned around and Lucifer locked the door behind him, a cheeky smirk on his face. He was proud of his brother for finally being honest with himself and taking pride in what he wanted. Would he ever let Mammon know that? Oh, hell no.

♡

I’ve wanted to see a fic about this ever since I fell in love with Mammon and saw his room, so I wrote it!

 I’m only comfortable with F!MC writing since I’ve never familiarized myself with GN!MC or M!MC. My apologies!

I do NOT give permission to post this anywhere else. I also have this posted on Wattpad, my username is daradoodlebug. If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

#obey me #obey me! #obey me mammon #obey me! shall we date? #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #f!mc x mammon #mammon x f!mc #mammon x reader #mammon obey me #dara's devildom diaries

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 3

Chapter warnings: cursing, drinking, 18+, very slight mentions of sex

Chapter summary: Just how okay are you, Sheriff?

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

Lee knew the second he went home that night he’d regret it. He stayed late at the station just to avoid his wife and her snarled, red hot face that she always wore before having her daily yelling match with him.

His brakes screeched as he pulled into the dusty driveway. He shut the door as lightly as possible, hoping Laura-Jean was asleep and he wouldn’t have to deal with her mouth. He turned his keys ever so slight, unlocking the front door to his home and cracked it just enough to walk in, only to see Laura-Jean waiting for him. She had a cigarette in one hand and a crystal glass with just a splash of whiskey left inside.

Lee sighed, “So, you found my whiskey.” He threw his keys in the ball that sat on the coffee table. Then, he removed his hat and jacket, hanging them on the coat rack. “How was your day-“

“Cut the crap, Lee” she hissed, slamming the glass on the coffee table. “You know I heard about it. About you seein’ that girl.”

“When did she become ‘that girl’. You was best friends once upon a time. When did y’all stop being friends?” Lee asked rhetorically, pretending to think on it for a second, “oh, that’s right. When you masterminded your way into my life and left her with nothing and nobody.”

“Oh no, baby. We weren’t friends the second you two started datin’. She just didn’t know it, yet. And it was you who left her heart broken and alone. I wanted you and you wanted power. We’re a fuckin match made in HELL, BABY!”

“CHOOSIN’ YOU OVER HER WAS THE WORST MISTAKE I EVER MADE!” Lee shouted. “We’re both SO GODDAMN HAPPY, NOW, ain’t we.” He huffed, feeling his heartache when he thought about y/n being alone all this time and not being able to be there for her.

“You made your bed, Lee. Know one forced you to do anything.” Laura-Jean took a drag from her cigarette and wiped away the same tears that fell every night.

Lee loved Y/n more than he ever loved anyone in his entire life, but at the time he thought he loved his job more. When he heard she’d skipped town he was devastated. Devastated that she left, of course, but more devastated that he’d created a situation to where she felt she had to leave. Lee hid his feelings well in public but behind closed doors he was a complete mess without her.

When he heard she was back in town, he wasted no time in going over to see her. He wanted her to open the door and greet him like nothing had ever happened. He wanted her to leap into his arms and kiss him so softly, so tenderly like she used too. Things definitely didn’t go as planned.. either time he’d seen her.

The problem was, Lee had worked so hard to get where he was and to give it all away for Y/n? He just wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He loved her with every inch of his crooked heart. He knew deep down that she’s the only one for him and not even Laura-Jean could take that away.

Laura-Jean dubbed out her cigarette before coming face-to-face with Lee, “I don’t wanna hear about you talkin to that girl again. Am I clear?” She snarled that ugly snarl he’d grown to hate.

“Trust me, I’m sure she doesn’t wanna talk to me anyhow.” He sighed and picked up the crystal glass to finish off what remained of the liquor inside.

//

“It’s going to be okay, Mrs. Huckleberry. I’ll head home right now and call the station. Those scoundrels won’t get away with this.” You grinned, walking your elderly neighbor up to her front door before heading back home.

Nothing says welcome home like a smashed in mailbox. At least nine of your neighbors, including you, got their mailboxes bashed. You weren’t too torn up over it; it probably needed replacing anyways. To seem more neighborly,though, than your momma ever was at least, you decided you’d make the call to the police station for all the mailbox victims.

To no avail, the line was busy, probably more than just your neighborhood that got hit. So, you decided to go to the station before work. You’d make a quick statement and get out of there as quickly as possible to avoid any more contact with Lee.

It only took you 20 minutes to walk to the stations from your house. You looked nice considering you’d be heading to work right after this. You wore a fitting, brown skirt with a matching blazer, matching shoes and a white, cotton turtleneck underneath. Your cat eye glasses sat perfectly against the bridge of your nose and you decided today was an updo kind of day.

Just like when you went to the grocery store, everyone was watching you as you walked into the station. You went up to the secretary and cleared your throat when she didn’t acknowledge your presents.

“Sheriff’s not here.” She said never even looking up.

You sighed, “I’m not looking for the Sheriff. I need to talk to someone about my whole neighborhood getting our mailboxes smashed in.”

She smacked her gum, “mhmm.” She flipped through the magazine in front of her, still ignoring every advance you’d made.

“Gosh you know, It’s my first day as a secretary,too, I hope I’m at least as half as good as you are.” You give her the fakest smile you could muster.

She finally looked up, still smacking her gum, “It ain’t my first day.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not meanin’ to insulate ya.” You poured your lips, “Now, I’m just tryin to get what I need so I can be on my merry way. You can help me with that, can’t ya?” You nodded your head, frowning down at her as your voice carried a patronizing tone.

She scoffed before standing up from her chair, “Follow me.” She led you to one of the back offices where you saw an old friendly face.

“Karl?” You beam

He looked up and immediately wore the friendliest grin you’d seen in days.

“My my my, I heard you was back in town.” He stood from his chair and walked over to you, “Look at you. You don’t look any different from the day you left. Besides the tears and all.” He giggled.

“Too soon.” You said with a smile as you punched him in the shoulder.

“Well, what can I do you for? Unless you really did just come here to catch up.”

You bit your cheek, “No. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know you was a police officer, now, or I would’ve come by.”

“Well, I am the Sheriff’s best friend, of course he’d want me to be his right hand man.” He frowned, knowing the effect even his name would have on you, let alone his title. You’d honestly hoped he’d ditched him as a friend after everything that happened between the two of you. But Lee was his best friend. You couldn’t blame him for having a shitty guy for a friend. He and Lee were like brothers, it was stupid of you to think you’d change any of that.

You cleared your throat, only to break the silence, “Right, um, I need to report something. Me and a few of my neighbors got our mailboxes smashed in.”

He nodded, I’ll get the paperwork ready, please, have a seat.”

The filing cabinet wolfed open as he searched for the paperwork. Once he found it, he came back to his desk, filled out the form and highlighted where you needed to sign, dated and write your statement.

“I also need the names of your neighbors that got hit. Lee and I’ll go by later and get their statements.”

You hummed, “great.” Nothing pleased you more than to know Lee would be in your neighborhood again. Before you could dwell on it, Karl spoke again.

“You know, I’ve missed the hell outta you.” He grinned.

“Oh yeah?” You smiled, peeking up through your eyelashes before looking back down to finish your statement.

“Of course. Outta every girl Lee dated, you were my favorite. Laura-Jean’s just… a frigid bitch.” You giggled at his honesty.

“Well, I can’t say I feel bad for him. He got what was comin to’em.”

He chuckled, “Ah, hell, you ain’t wrong. I rung his neck for what he did to you. Toldl’em to go after you.”

Your heart sunk. Someone told Lee to come for you and he chose not to? You thought it’d just been because he didn’t know where you were, but by the way Karl’s telling it, he did know. He knew the whole time and just didn’t give enough of a shit about you, or your feelings for that matter, to go after you.

You couldn’t help your curiosity, “W-why didn’t he?”

“Stubborn. I- look I’ll tell you this but if you tell anyone I’ll deny it.”

“Just tell me, Karl.” Your heart was pounding and you weren’t certain as to why, yet. Maybe you were still holding onto hope that your Lee wasn’t gone. That under that hard shell your sweet, charming, wonder Lee was just waiting for you to bring him back to life.

“Laura-Jean don’t let him drink ‘cause all he does is talk about you. Sayin’ how much he misses you and lettin’ you go was the biggest mistake of his life. I pulled him over twice when he’s drunk out of his mind, but.. I think he’s on his way to you. I never asked though.”

You sat there, your mouth suddenly dry. How were you supposed to respond to this? Lee had been nothing but rude to you since the second you got back into town and now this. Now you truly did know he was just as messed up as you were. You hid the tiny smile that tried to crack through your trembling lips. He was just as messed up as you were.

For so long you’d blocked out all your happy memories with Lee and as you sat there trying not to grin like an idiot, the memories all came flooding back. Every kiss, every touch, every look, every groan and grunt, every ‘I love you’; everything. Your Lee was always glowing and happy, with a smile that made butterflies fly around in your belly every time you saw it. Your Lee was a cool summer breeze on a hot day; smooth and welcoming. Your Lee was the first snow in winter; surprising and astonishingly breathtaking. Your Lee was your Lee. But that’s it.

The Lee you came home to was an entirely different man, one you’d never met before. Now, instead of a crisp winter morning he was a harsh winter night; frigid and brutal. This thought made the butterflies disappear in your belly and the almost-grin to completely fade.

“I- I finished my statement.” Is all you could say. You were done talking about Lee.

Karl frowned, “Alright,” he said, taking the paper as you stood. “Well, hey, you’re welcome to stop by anytime. I really did miss you, Y/n.”

You gave him a soft smile in return, “Thank you, Karl. That means a lot, but you know I’m gonna avoid this place like the plague.”

He chuckled, “Fair enough.”

You said goodbye and headed back towards the front of the station. You got your usual glares as you walked through the lobby and to the door, but nothing mattered right now. Your heart was once again in pain. Having drudged up all those beautiful memories with a man you so loathed was killing you from the inside out. You wanted nothing more than to forget him and coming back to town surely was not helping you with that. A car pulled up as you walked with your head down. You didn’t look up to see who was driving, you just dodged and waved, trying to find your way back to the sidewalk.

“Y/n, wait!” Lee called from behind you. Before you could even think to keep walking you turned and looked at him as he stood by the cruiser. Your breath hitched in your throat and you cursed under your breath.

“What?” You asked, folding your arms.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I don’t know what came over me and I feel awful about it.”

“I don’t care, Bodecker. But if you wanna make it up to me, you can make sure that I never see your face again while I’m here. I’ve been here three days and I haven’t gone one without seeing your goddamn face. You’re the reason I left but you sure as hell ain’t the reason I came back.” A tear fell down your cheek. Your energy was completely drained by all the events of the morning and you still had work.

“I’m curious, you still like those chocolate shakes down at Ruby's Diner?” He asked, scratching his head.

“Seriously? Did you hear a word that just came out of my mouth, Bodecker?”

“Just answer the damn question, Y/n.”

You sighed, “Yes, okay. I haven’t had one in years though. Not since-“

“Our last date.” He finished for you. He turned on his heels and opened the passenger side door to the cruiser. “Get in.”

“Are you crazy? Why in the hell would I go anywhere with you?” You looked at him in bewilderment.

“Well, I think if we’re gonna coexist in this town, we need to talk and there ain’t no better way to talk than over a chocolate shake from Ruby’s.” He smiled, knowing how much you used to love those shakes.

“I- I can’t. I got work.” You said, looking down at your feet. Everything was telling you to not get in that cruiser, but your heart was practically pulling you to it.

“Where at?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Billy’s auto shop.”

“Ah, hell. You’ll be fine. I’ll drop you off after and explain the whole thing. Please, Y/n, get in the car.”

You sighed as your feet shuffled back and forth. You could just walk away and go to work as planned. You didn’t need an explanation and you really didn’t have to get along with him. You’d only be here a few months and then you’d never have to see him again. But, for some reason, your heart spoke for you before your brain even had time to think.

“Okay.” You whispered and hesitantly walked over to the cruiser; getting just close enough to smell Lee’s fresh aftershave. The second he closed the door your heart sank. We’re you really doing this and why the fuck was it so easy for him to persuade you? You wondered if maybe Karl hadn’t told you what he did then maybe you wouldn’t be here now.

Lee got in the driver's seat and buckled up, “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

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(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[beann-e]

Arranged Marriages With Stoic Guys

female pronouns used for this one !

“ y/n you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to “

“ are you stupid of course I have to “ you snapped at your father who stood hovering over you a slight smirk on his face “ eh thought you’d want to hear what you wanna hear “

you scoffed trying to push his arm off your shoulders this was all stupid you didn’t want to do any of this

“ honestly i’m doing what’s best for you y/n you need this — we need this “ he sighed “ I mean don’t you want to help your family and yourself think about how well set up you’ll be “his eyes went stone on yours “ you need this “

you flinched at the way his sureness slipped into his tone there was no way you were gonna get out of this “ no you need this there is no we right now “

his face hardened as he held out his arm for you to grab “ shut up and grab my arm “

“ i’m not going out there with you “

“ yes “ his voice was threatening and quiet “ you are “

“ I said im no— “

“ look you’ve been weighing this family down for years yet, we’ve said nothing— and now you finally have the chance to help us — to show you belong in this world and you won’t ? are you serious “

His face flew up into a look of annoyance “ you have no other purpose than to help us that is why you were born to be shoved into a family rich enough to secure your own and your families needs and now you mean to tell me you don’t want to do what you were created for “

your mouth snapped shut at his claims

“ are you that disgusting that you can’t even help your family “

you felt your body go cold as he continued to press into you

“ you preach how we’re the bad people yet you do evil shit like this“

he scoffed looking down on you “ i feel nothing but pure disgust to even have to go out there and call you my daughter “

he shook his head in disappointment before putting his arm out for you to grab again “ grab it “ his voice raised “ and you better go out there and put on that glorious look of innocence his father liked “

you gulped as he directed you quickly out the doors and draped the piece of fabric that you wore on your head. Placing it over your eyes and walking you down the aisle that had been so beautifully decorated

you were suppose to be getting married today not that you wanted to but, you had to.

you were the only girl in a family full of knuckle headed boys who just weren’t smart enough for an arranged marriage.

This was your fourth time being close enough to being married off though you hated the other 2 there was one that stuck out to you and that was number three

Your third boyfriend was one your family never liked they saw him as disgusting, vile, and too dirty with his language.

To you he was caring and open and rarely ever talked too harshly to you as long as you managed to never piss him off. You were happy with him and he was the only one you could ever see yourself settling down with until he told you He would take care of you and only you.

That was the nail in the coffin when you brought him over to dinner one night and out of the blue he spoke loudly so everyone could hear him “ look — with this whole marriage thing when I do marry your shitty daughter “

his eyes coming over to look at you and sending a look of reassurance your way making sure you knew he didn’t mean it. Them falling back to look at everyone around the dinner table who moved comfortably in their seats not caring how he talked to you as long as they would get to live lavish

“ i’m not taking care of you guys “ he scooped up the leftover food on his plate “ i’m only going out of the way for her and her only — the rest of you are on your own “

he shoveled the food in his mouth speaking carefully and making sure to watch his words knowing how serious he had to be with them in order for him to be heard by your parents “ you guys are using her for money and I don’t like that i’m not taking care of shitty parents and two brothers who act like they can’t even tell me how to spell yen “

him laughing and turning to your eldest brother a small smile on his face “ hey jerk face “

“ uh huh “ your brothers body wiggled in excitement to be acknowledged “ what’s up “

“ spell yen for me real quick “

“ babe don—“

“ shutup needa prove a point for your asshole parents “

“ hmmm “ your brother thought out loud as your other one jumped in the conversation “ hey dude what’s yen anyways “

your boyfriends mouth flying open as he slammed his hand on the table “ actually scratch that — i’m gonna pay for them both to go to elementary school and be two tall ass bodyguards that talk and say dumb shit like this to scare the kids into learning “

he pushed himself out of his chair kissing you softly before leaving the room. The door slamming as your father followed him anger swirling off his body at not only your boyfriends attitude for not wanting to help them but for coming in his house and making a fool of his family

you never got any of what your third boyfriend promised because he never got the opportunity to come back and your father made sure to have you cut off all contact with him.

So lucky you

free wedding , new guy

“ smile “ you felt your face do what you were told immediately as your feet shuffled down the aisle anyone could tell this was painful or at least anyone who actually knew you and not the 100 paid citizens of japan who sat in your wedding chairs

The guy you were marrying is a hero so, you can see how easy this is for him to pay for. He had to keep this little ordeal in the papers but only so, his father could stay relevant or at least that’s how they explained it to you no one explained that this was your e—

“ y/n“ your fathers voice was sharp “ take his hand“ you blinked finally realizing you were at the end of the carefully laid out carpet “ pay attention don’t make us look stupid “

you smiled carefully at the male before you dragged your foot stepping up and using his outstretched hand across from you “ thank—thank you “

it was silent which you immediately understood you knew he felt no need to talk to you ‘ maybe he’s not that into talking in public maybe he’s a private kind of person ‘

yeah he was so private that he said nothing but his I do’s and his occasional mhmm’s when you tried to get to know him with this continuing all night you never got to. This was all set up between his father and your own. you and him had no knowledge you were getting married today from what your father told you

“ so how— how is hero work “ you questioned as you two sat in the busy hall waiting for the doors to open up to allow people outside into the courtyard for pictures “ I hear you are one — a hero I mean “

you looked up to him as he faced forward his mouth making no attempt to move “ what really no it’s that hard ? “ you looked off speaking to yourself “ wouldnt think hero work could ever be hard“

“ did i just witness you ask and answer your own question “

your body shook as you felt heat rise up in your body your temperature high hands starting to feel sweaty “ oh uh “

“ if we have to get you checked for mental health problems i’d like to do so early “ he never broke his gaze from in front of him even when the doors opened “ I do not want to wake up with a knife to my chest or walk in on you talking to your imaginary friend after work “

you face dropped you understanding you were getting no where in communication with this man. You grabbed his outstretched hand and let him weave you carefully through the many people you didn’t know finally he stopped only to grip your hand tightly “ don’t move and wait quietly please“

you nodded your head as you watched him talk to the photographer guessing they were discussing where you were gonna take your pictures

“ hello there y/n “ you heard a booming voice say turning around only to bump square into a hard chest

“ or should I say daughter in law “ his voice scared you it was something about the way he was so sure of himself something felt wrong here

“ oh um do I— I know you “

“ of course you do “ he pointed to your new husband smiling “ you married my son an hour ago “

you shook your head uncomfortable with being left alone with now not only one person you didn’t know but also two plus a room full of people you couldn’t even name “ excuse me if I seem a bit “

“— lost , ditzy, bimbo like “

“ w-what bimbo? excuse me “

“ it’s ok as long as your quirk is as good as your father tells me I am fine with your intelligence level not being up to par my son is fully equipped with the knowledge to take care of a woman and provide like a man should “

“ I-“ you thought for a moment deciding on if you should go all out on the male that stood before you retracting into yourself when you thought of your father

“ oh y/n i know — it’s the bimbo tendencies? yeah here i’ll make it easier for you is there something you wanted to say“

you flinched at the statement smiling and presenting yourself happily as he smirked down on you ‘ he knows what hes doing ‘

“ no no nothing at all “ you said feeling his large hand pat you on your back “ good girl— get over there my sons kinda dense when it comes to talking to people “

you smiled to hold all the hostility in your voice “ yes i’ve seen so much of his density in our one hour together I find myself wondering how he can provide for me without proper communication skills “

the males eyebrow raising at your ability to speak back to an elder “ hmm he suffers with interaction due to lack of affection— childhood trauma as people your age like to say “

his smile tight and not fully reaching his ears “ I do expect that you’ll show him the proper amount of affection no matter if you got dragged into this or not “

you turned on your heel leaving the annoyed male to his own thoughts your hands coming up to interlock over your new ‘husbands’ shoulders “ hi shoto “

he bristled at your touch his shoulder moving to drop your hands as he pretended to stretch his arm in a small circle side eyeing you carefully alerting you to not touch him without permission again before he turned back to the male in front of him voice low “ I do not understand why I cannot take the photos the way I want to “

“ your father sai— “

“ their my spouse ? “ he was direct with everything he said “ it’s my wedding “

you could feel the questioning in every word he said voice low almost threatening the male in front of you “are you going to believe a 90 year old geezer who just found out beating kids is wrong or are you going to believe your beloved pro hero ? “

you could hear the teasing he held at the very end that even made you want to move just as fast as the photographer in front of you and follow after him

“ how do you want to take the photos y/n “ Shotos eyes looked down on you expectedly as you shook your head in confusion ‘ how did I end up picking our poses he wanted to change the generic one that was preplanned‘

you looked into his face as his eyes morphed into a look you couldn’t quite figure out “ i’m guessing you did this for me ? “

he shook his head slightly “ oh so you thought I would want something different from the basic ph— ok um “ you smiled as you turned to the front “ can we just do a um — maybe a hug but he hugs my waist that’s always a pretty marriage picture “

you moved to look back at him as the photographer agreed shoto moving carefully to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist hesitantly “ you can — it’s ok “ you felt as his shaky arms snaked around and sat in the spot that you guided them to your arms moving over them as your hands tried to soothe his jumpy ones

“ hey calm down “ you laughed “ just a picture — not me waging war on you family “

he looked down on your smiling face his own going through so many emotions not able to tell which one he wanted to show “ at least not the rest of them — your father maybe “ he watched as you turned back around the camera clicking as a genuine look of interest for you passed over his face

“ do you guys want to take another one “

“ um I think we’re good he doesn’t um— he doesn’t seem like a photo- e guy and i’m not very photogenic “

the photographer shook his head in understanding letting out a sigh of relief that he held as you moved to walk off your husbands grip tightening on you “ hey I — you can let go now sh— “

“ do you remember earlier “ he questioned “ when I told you to stay put “

your body flamed as you knew you’d done something wrong immediately feeling like you should try to defend yourself

“ why did you walk off “ his eyebrows furrowed “ how — why did you disobey orders “

“ I just—- I didn’t — your father— he — he came up and he— “

“ either way you didn’t listen you moved from the spot I placed you in” his eyes were staring holes into yours daggers really “so no matter who spoke to you — you were in the wrong “

“ I — it’s my body I can move “

“ yes you can in the spot I placed you “

“ I don’t even know you I don’t have t— “

“ that’s how it works “ his voice roared looking to the ground eyebrows furrowed as he was trying so desperately to understand you “ that is how it works in a marriage you listen to me —when I tell you to do something you do it and when I tel— “

“ no it’s not what — I” your face made up in confusion “ who told you these things —- this is ? i’m not a kid I am your wife now—we’re on two equal playing fiel— “

“ no “ you gnawed at your lip as he waited for a rebuttal seeing as though you had been answering him back after everything he said standing up straighter when he seen your tightly closed mouth “ i’m done with this argument I was just curious of something and you answered it “ he unwrapped himself from your body and turned to leave tugging at his suit

you not knowing wether to follow him or leave him be choosing the first option when he turned over his shoulder and stopped his movement

voice coming out short you were so confused with your new ‘husbands’ behavior he expected almost everything from you as if you could read his mind without words “ sorry — sorry “

he shook his head in understanding as he went to get his car from the valet opening the door for you as he opened his own getting in and setting himself up properly for a nice drive

your back hitting the seat hard when he took off your mind racing thinking this may be punishment for your words and anger towards him earlier.

‘ maybe he’s gonna play fast and furious while i’m In the car to get me to shut up ‘

“ I do not intend to scare you if that is what you are thinking “

he looked into his side mirror as he got over into another lane “ but I do intend to build structure where I see there is none “

you knew you should be quiet right now is not the time to fight for your rights in this new relationship not when he was driving like he’d never heard of a car accident

“ and I am not sure about you but I do feel right now is the best time to set that in place seeing as though I don’t know you and I doubt you even want to know me “

he waited on your answer “ when I stop talking that signifies you may speak “

“ sorry yes— no I do want—want to know you “

“ that’s interesting “ he sat back in the drivers seat as he eyed the road carefully slowing down a bit when taking in your answer “ i’d like to think that we were both forced into this “

“ ye-“

“ but that is simply not true “

your eyes refused to blink “ neither of us were “ he slowed the car down even more as he pulled into an underground parking garage “ you were handpicked by myself because I was asked to find a spouse to spark some uproar in the headlines or else i’d lose my title of number three hero and I am not too keen on giving that up right now with my father being number four and only living to climb the ranks “

he turned his car off as he turned to you “ i do not want to give him that enjoyment— “ he sighed “ you are not necessarily wanted nor needed— the only thing I can ask of you is to uphold this facade out there and i will give you and your family— everything i originally signed to in the contract“

he opened his car door as he stood fixing his suit again “ in here — my house you either follow my set of rules or you will be asked to leave and id honestly hate to ask you to leave “

you heart fluttered so he was interested in you

“ because then i’d have to talk to the media and I do hate when they ask me questions they have the material to supply themselves an answer with “

you heard the slam of the car door as you got out yourself hearing the two beeps from his car when locking it following him up the stairs as your eyes blinked several times

no

no no

no

you followed him up the elevator images flashing In your mind as you looked to the buttons remembering the number all too clear as he stepped out and onto the floor opening the door to the pent house your sweaty hands fiddling with the bottom half of your dress

“ shoto”

“ todoroki inside please my love — also “ he moved to his kitchen stripping off his jacket “ baby goes for me —my love goes for you in or out I don’t care — but do not overuse it — you will only annoy me “

you smiled softly trying to rush to ask your overwhelming question that was buzzing around inyour mind “ baby do you um— by any chance do you happen to have a rooma — “

“ who the fuck left the door open “ you heard the voice your ears had missed so much your body wanting to drop to the floor after hearing it “ shitty icy hot always coming in places and just leaving shit open— it’s like you don’t even know privacy “

“ well that is true I have never been awarded such thing as privacy I was off throwing up on tile after a long hard restless day of beatings “

“tch always so quick to spill your shitty trauma — wheres the bitch you set yourself up to marry “ he scoffed as you heard him nearing the kitchen “ marry for hire I mean “

shoto nodded as if the male could see it closing his fridge making his way over to you pushing you to follow him towards the loud deep voice “ she’s here actually though she’s going to be busy in a moment — you’ll have some time to meet her afterwards I promise “

“ god — if it goes on all night I swear — still can’t believe you hired some weird bitch to marry you and the whor—holy fuck “

Your eyes rose to meet his as you saw the tall blond drop his grenades he held in his gloved hands the loud clang echoing throughout the house “ my god I do ask bakugou if we’re going to stay together due to the department , that you do watch how you mess up our house , you have free range to destroy anything you want inside your own room “

“ shut —shut the fuck up ice tray“ his eyes narrowed on yours as he pointed at you “ this is the — the bitch you went to marry today — the one you picked out “

“ yes — I — is there a problem “ shoto turned to look you up and down “ though I did suspect some mental health challenges earlier i’m sure you can’t notice them up front right “

bakugous body shivered as he took a step back from you his body prepared to run

“ bakugou i’ve never seen you this “ your grip tightened on your dress pulling it up in the back hand dipping low to grab at your cell phone knowing you would have to call for help if he decided to be the bakugou you knew and kill you your ears listening closely as shoto spoke “ this afraid it’s quite eventful “

“ you— you dumbass “ he kept his eyes on you “ get the fuck out this isn’t the place for you— go back to your run down shitty cottage or something “

shoto stood confused as bakugou ran to grab you his hand tight on your arm his body stopping eyes made up in sadness face dropping as he felt himself wanting to scream and cry all at the same time. Hand only gripping harder onto your figure

“ what is the meaning of this —- I find this disgustingly rude — bakugou “

he shook his head eyes dropping to the floor your heart breaking he won’t even look at you that’s how bad your father screwed things up for you

Him pushing you away from him and towards the door as he spoke low hurt and pain ripping through his voice “ she’s gotta go “ his body moving to walk away “ now “ he screamed “ unmarry her or some shit—I don’t wanna see that bitch when I come back out here “

“ katsu— “

“ don’t you dare say my name not like that not with tears in your fucking eyes and sounding all sad and shit the last time you said it was the best time dont make me forget that shit “

your body shook in fear as his eyes weighed heavy on you shotos voice pouring out “ god bakugou please what are you saying your just being a bit of an— excuse my language my love but an — asshole aren’t you ? “

his body stalling when he thought back to a few moments ago “ wait how — how do you know his name “

your heart broke as you looked between the two men.

Just your luck that you would have to choose between a man who would most likely give you nothing but pure gentle love and supply your family the same only for one small thing in return or one that you missed so much every night you went to sleep

then again you would have no choice but to be married to someone that you’d already signed away your life to in a binding contract that stated your family and yourself would be very well taken care of and who were you to choose love over protection ?

#shoto headcanons #shoto x you #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto fluff #bnha shoto #shoto torodoki #mha shoto #shoto todoroki #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki bnha #todoroki mha #todoroki headcannons #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #pro hero bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha imagines

[mageofseven]

The Undateables version! Here's the Brothers' post~

Also:

Not Obey Me related, but I recently found this picture and felt is was fitting lol

~

Diavolo:

His Queen had only been living with him for a few days at this point.

The couple had been dating for two years and the prince had finally decided to bring up the subject of MC moving in with him.

He had wanted to for a while now, but was a afraid to seem too pushy with his Sweetheart.

Plus, part of him worried that they wouldn't want to. After all, there's always something fun going on at House of Lamentation. In comparison, his castle is a quiet, cold place.

That only made the prince want his human to live with him even more though

So when the two discussed the idea and MC said yes, the man was overjoyed.

It's been three days since his Sweetheart moved in though and they seemed rather anxious.

This night, the prince had been working late and was finally ready to retreat to his room for the night, but upon seeing his bed empty and Queen missing, the man grew concerned.

Diavolo stopped his butler in the hall, who was also retreating for the night, to ask where MC was.

Barbatos had informed his lord that the human was in the kitchen, baking some sort of cookie-brownie hybrid treat.

Diavolo raised an eyebrow before thanking his friend and heading to the kitchen.

Just as the other demon said, MC was in the kitchen. The human sat on the floor in front of the stove, watching the treats bake.

"My Queen?"

The human jumped, but upon noticing it was their boyfriend, gave an anxious smile.

"Oh... hi Sweetie."

The prince sat on the floor next to the human, laying his hand on their leg.

"What's wrong? Why are you sitting on the floor at this time of night?"

The human didn't answer, just went back to staring at the stove and wrapping their arms around themselves.

The big demon pulled them into his arms, embracing his Sweetheart.

"MC, you know you can talk to me."

The human buried their face in his chest, breathing in their boyfriend's scent and letting themselves find peace from it.

"I just...please don't be upset..."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I be upset?"

The human sighed and explained it to their boyfriend.

When Diavolo had asked them if they wanted to move in with him, the human became anxious. They weren't really good with change and didn't wanna leave the Brothers, who had become family to them

But they also felt pressured to. Not by Diavolo, but by unspoken expectations. Wasn't two years a long time to date without moving in together? They didn't have anything to compare it to, but they assumed so.

They worried that by saying no, they'd be halting the progression of their relationship and acknowledged that even if they loved living at House of Lamentation that surely they couldn't do so forever.

MC agreed because it felt like it was inevitable that it would happen at some point.

For the first two nights, MC could push through because they got to cuddle their boyfriend as they fell asleep, but since he worked late tonight, MC became so unbearably lonely

And all they could think about was how if they still lived at House of Lamentation that they could have gone to Levi's room to play games or head to the kitchen with Beel and chat as he ate or be comforted by Asmo when gets back from a party or stop in to check up on Lucifer and bring him coffee

But they couldn't because they weren't there and that made the human incredibly anxious and sad.

The human knew it wasn't as if they'd never see the Brothers again, that it was just that they were restricted to the daytime

But their anxiety about the change was still enough to push the human into keeping busy, hence the baking.

The prince felt so guilty. He kissed his Queen's forehead.

"I'm so sorry, my Sweetheart. I did not know that this would be such a difficult adjustment for you."

"I...I didn't say anything so of course you didn't know. Please don't blame yourself."

Diavolo kept his human close and stroked their hair.

"What can I do for you? Would you...would rather move back in with Lucifer and his brothers?"

MC pulled back and gave a small smile to their boyfriend.

"You're too sweet." The human leaned in and kissed their boyfriend. "Dia...thank you. I want stay here with you though; I want to give this a chance because...I know if I can adapt that we're going to be so very happy."

Diavolo smiled back at his Sweetheart and pulled them back in for a tight hug

...then starting smelled something burning.

After handling the now charcoal-looking treats, the prince carried his Queen bridal style back to their room, loving his human so deeply and cherishing this time with them as they both fell asleep.

Barbatos:

MC was staying the night at the castle with him. It was the first time the two of them have ever slept in the same bed

And ever done some...others things.

Tonight was definitely a milestone for the couple.

After the nights activities, the two had fallen asleep.

At some point though, Barbatos woke up with a sudden gnawing feeling as if something was wrong

And glanced at the other side of the bed to find that the human was gone.

After getting dressed, the man wandered the castle in search of them and found MC in the kitchen.

"My Dear?" The butler stepped inside just in time to see them pull the pie out of the oven.

The human smiled nervously at him.

"Oh...hi." They looked away. "Sorry, I just...yeah."

Barbatos raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something on your mind?" He approached the human as they set the pie on the on the counter.

MC stared down into the pie.

"Barb...are you really okay with settling for me?"

The man pursed his lips and stared at them for a moment before laying his hand on their cheek.

"I am sorry I that ever made you believe such a thing was worth asking, my Pet. I assure you, 'settling' is not the case. Life has gifted me with you and I treasure you above all else."

"E...Even though I'm human?"

"MC, I have no issues with your race. You are a person, same as I, and a lovely one at that."

The human launched at the man, pulling him into a hug. Eyes wide, Barb started stroking their hair.

"Is this why you're out of bed and...baking in the middle of the night?"

"Mhmm." His Dear mumbled from against his chest. "I just...I couldn't sleep after...you know...and these thoughts filled my head and I just wanted to keep busy so I didn't have to focus on them."

"Do you regret it, my Dear? Did we move too fast?"

"No!" MC pushed back. "I was ready...I was so happy. I just...afterwards, it just felt kinda scary. You make me feel so incredibly loved and it's overwhelming since I don't feel as if I deserve it."

The human took his hand and squeezed it.

"I love you. This...this is just me. This is my issue and you help just by loving me despite it, okay?"

Barbatos leaned in and kissed their forehead.

"Alright, my Dear." He told them. "Now, is there anything you need?"

MC glanced at the pie then smiled shyly.

"...Wanna eat some cherry pie with me?"

He gave them a small smile in return.

"If that is what you wish, my Dear."

Solomon:

MC was spending the night at Purgatory Hall with their boyfriend.

It was around 1am when Solomon felt the other human slip out of bed.

Assuming they just needed to use the restroom, the man didn't think much of it and let himself drift back to sleep.

About an hour later, the man turned on his side and reached out to hold his little Minx to his chest, just to find the space next to him still empty.

The sorcerer frowned, not able to fall back asleep with MC unaccounted for.

He gave a sleepy groan before kicking off the blankets and rising from the bed, heading towards his door.

He found the other human in the kitchen with the counter covered with peanut butter cookies and a plate of their own with them at the table with a glass of milk.

"Little Minx, was this really necessary at 2am?" He asked, smiling at them in a mild amusement.

The other human jumped at his voice and accidentally dropped their cookie in their milk, causing a splash and small drops of milk to spill on the table.

MC pouted, causing their boyfriend to give a small chuckle.

The sorcerer took a seat next to them and grabbed a cookie for himself, taking a bite as he watched MC try to fish their own cookie out of their milk.

"Why are you awake?" MC asked him softly.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.

"I believe that's my question for you, little Minx."

Silence. MC stared down into their milk, giving up and letting the cookie somewhat float inside.

The man frowned.

"I cannot help if you don't talk to me, MC."

"W...What's going to happen to us?" MC started to fidget in their seat. "I mean...summer is coming and...the school year is ending..."

Solomon watched the other human, letting them continue since he could tell they were trying to find their words in order to continue.

"Are you...is there..." MC bit their lip. "Are we gonna be invited back next year as exchange students? If not...are we...can we still be together? Or do we have to...ya know..."

"Do you honestly think I'd break up with you if we couldn't attend RAD anymore?"

"....."

The man sighed and pulled his Minx into a hug.

"This relationship isn't just something to past the time during my stay here. If that was all it was, I wouldn't have dated you or anyone." He told them. "I'm with you because...it's simply what I want to do. There's something here with you that I never had with others. Something I don't think I could ever let go of."

"Really?"

"Really, little Minx." He smiled at them. "I may not be sure when or if we'll be invited back here, but that will not be a factor in our relationship. We'll simply be happy in the Human realm for a while."

He pulled them in and gave them a long, sweet kiss.

"Now, let's finish off a few cookies and get back to sleep, alright, little Minx?"

Simeon:

MC was spending the night at Purgatory Hall after a game night. Lucifer allowed it, thinking MC would sleep in the extra room in Purgatory Hall, the one that originally would have been theirs anyway if Diavolo hadn't decided that they were safer at House of Lamentation.

Of course, MC was actually in bed with their boyfriend; the other two housemates knew of their relationship at this point and wouldn't tell others their secret.

At some point during the night, Simeon jolted awake. Did he have a bad dream? The man honestly didn't know since whatever he might have dreamt faded quickly as he focused on his breathing and reached out for his Feather--to find that they were no longer laying next to him.

For whatever reason, he had this sickening feeling in him as if something was wrong. He rushed out of bed and went in search of the human.

He found them in the kitchen, asleep on the floor in front of the oven

Which had smoke coming out of it.

The angel ran over and picked up the human, waking them in the process as he sat them by the entry way and went back to deal with the small fire in the oven.

"S-Simeon?" The human called him, sleepy and confused.

With the fire out, the man sighed in relief and returned to his Lamb's side, lowering himself to the floor and pulling them into his arms.

"Oh, my Feather..." He said softly, not losening the embrace.

MC's sleepy brain had finally caught up with the situation.

"Oh my...I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"You're okay." The man pulled back and eyed them up and down. "You are okay, yes?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Simeon pulled them back in and held them for a minute more before kissing their forehead.

"Now what were you doing, my Lamb? Why were you out of bed?"

"I was...baking."

"...MC, it's 2am."

The human looked away.

"I know..."

With a pained expression on their face, the human spoke of the bad anxiety they have been feeling as of late, how they were hoping that by staying the night here and sleeping by his side that such anxiety would dissipate, but all it actually did was remind them of all they are scared of.

This relationship...it's so delicate. They cannot openly be with each other without risking ruin. If the wrong person hears, if the Celestial realm even suspects it...everything could fall apart.

"I've just been scared of losing you and it's hard no being able to confide in Lucifer or Mammon or Beel or any of them like I usually do...so the anxiety I've been feeling just built up and I couldn't sleep so I decide get up and I eventually just thought I could bake a few cookies and just busy myself so I don't have to think about it, at least for the time being...but I guess I fell asleep anyway."

"My Feather...you should have told me." He wiped a tear from their cheek, one MC never knew had fallen till then. "I'm so sorry for the stress this has put on you."

"I couldn't...I...I'm scared. I was worried that if I told you how I felt, you'd leave me thinking it was best for me, but in reality, it would crush me."

"MC, I would never. This...you are everything to me. I love you so deeply that I simply wouldn't have the strength to do that."

"You promise?"

"I swear on my very soul that I will do all within my power to stay by your side."

The two stayed huddled together on the floor for awhile, taking comfort in the closeness.

"Well, this...ordeal explains my sudden consciousness earlier."

The angel explained his sudden jolt of panic as he searched for them in bed. When MC asked what he meant, the man continue.

"We seem to have an...unofficial covenant though I'm not quite sure how."

"What's a covenant?"

"It's...I suppose you could compare them to your pacts with the brothers. A covenant is the binding agreement with an angel and a human when they seek protection and Celestial blessings in their life, in exchange for them to serve and help the angel in the Celestial realm for a time after their death. It's to help humans while also serving as another way of expanding the Angelic population." He explained. "However, we have not made such a covenant nor could we if we wanted to...such an agreement cannot be made with those who have made pacts with demons. Still...somehow my soul is reacting to you as if we had made one."

The couple had more questions than answers about their lives together, but it was nothing they could solve that night.

The two talked for a while before Simeon picked his Lamb up and carried them back to bed.

The two fell asleep in an embrace, all worries still in place, but both still feeling that regardless of it all, where they truly belonged was right next to each other.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me mc

[partnersatfazbear]

Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

[babysizedfics]

Pink Crayons and Pinky Promises - Part 1

Summary: Being a super cool big brother is hard work sometimes. Especially when you don’t feel as big as usual, Vee doesn’t feel as little as usual, you parents are asleep, your baby sister’s pullup needs changing, you both need breakfast, you don’t know where crayons come from, and you miss your Mommy. But Mommy always calls Roman a clever little boy, so he’s gonna try to deal with all that stuff anyway! That can’t be too hard, right?

Word count: 4.9k

Take me to part 2! (There’s another link at the end of this part!)

Also on AO3!

oOo

The carpet brushed against Roman’s feet as he dragged them back and forth, over and over again. He smiled and wiggled on his butt a little where he was sitting on the floor. Then he rubbed his feet over the carpet again. Back and forth. Back and forth, really fast!

Daddy called them happy feet, and Mommy said it was stimming. Roman didn’t really care what it was called. He just liked doing it! It made his chest less stuffy and his fingers less tingly. He liked doing it when he felt bored, or when he felt bubbly, or sometimes when he felt weird.

This morning was kind of weird. Last night Mommy didn’t feel good and Daddy had to look after him while Nana came to their house to look after Vee. That was okay though because Roman was a super big brother and helped look after the baby! He was really helpful and at bedtime he even let Vee sleep in his bed because she didn’t like sleeping alone. Daddy and Mommy were gonna be so proud when they found out what a responsible big brother Roman was!

But since Roman woke up this morning, he didn’t feel that big anymore. Vee was still asleep in Roman’s bed and Mommy and Daddy were still asleep in Mommy’s bed and Nana must have gone back to his house after Roman and Vee fell asleep. So that meant Roman was all alone right now.

Roman was never really on his own, except if he was awake way past bedtime or when he really wanted to be and yelled at everyone to leave him alone… But right now he didn’t want to be alone! He wanted Mommy to play with him and Daddy to call him nice names and Vee to copy him and laugh when he did something funny.

It wasn’t a good idea to wake anyone up, though, so Roman decided to make the most of his time alone! He played his car game, like, five times already. He put coffee in his sippy cup and finished it. And since he didn’t have his parents around to tell him not to, he even snuck his toothbrush out of the bathroom to chew it!

Exactly why Roman wasn’t allowed to chew his toothbrush was completely lost on him. It was like he was brushing his teeth extra! And it tasted good and felt nice in his mouth and when he grinded his teeth on the bristly bits it made a really cool crunchy sound that filled his ears and made him rub his feet on the carpet even faster! Mommy and Daddy clearly just didn’t understand fun when they saw it. Roman thought he was a genius to discover how nice it was to chew his toothbrush. So he wouldn’t be ashamed of it anymore! If anyone asked him about it he would just tell them to mind their own business!

“Wo, what are you eatin’?” a small voice asked.

Roman yanked the toothbrush out of his mouth and let it fall inside his sleeve. It left a yucky wet trail on his wrist and it made his face scrunch up a little, but Roman quickly shook the feeling off and looked over at the bed.

Vee was sitting up against the headboard and rubbing her eyes tiredly. “We’re not allowed lollipops without asking Daddy or Mummy first.”

Good, Vee didn’t realise it was Roman’s toothbrush. And fae sounded half little going by faer voice and what fae called Patton and Logan! Fae was way easier to argue with when fae was only half little. (Mostly because fae actually understood what he was saying.)

“Yeah, well Daddy and Mommy aren’t awake yet, so.” Roman stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“Hey!” Vee whined and her lip stuck out. She kind of looked like she would cry. Roman really hoped she didn’t or he might be in trouble. Luckily she only said: “I’m gonna tell Daddy you eated sweets without asking and sticked your tongue out at me!”

Ugh, what a tattletale. Apparently Roman had no choice.

He rolled his eyes and pulled the toothbrush out from his sleeve. “Fine, I wasn’t eating candy, look.” Despite his greatest efforts, Roman’s cheeks grew warm when he showed Vee his chewed up toothbrush. He bit his lip and asked her quietly, “You won’t tell Mommy or Daddy, right?”

Vee’s eyes darted to the door, her lips twisted, then her gaze flitted back to Roman. She looked undecided.

“I promise I won’t let you get in trouble for it,” Roman quickly added. But Vee still looked a little anxious, so Roman kept going: “A-and I can cut up some watermelon for breakfast!”

A big smile broke out on Vee’s face, then it went blurry. She was bouncing up and down on her butt and squealing.

Roman knew that would do it! He laughed and rubbed his feet quickly on the carpet. This was fun! “Deal, Vee-Vee?”

Vee bounced up from the bed and tiptoed over to Roman’s spot on the carpet quickly. She dropped to sit on the floor next to him and nodded with a big smile. “Okay, deal!” Her eyes wandered over the toys on the carpet.

“Did you wanna play with me?” Roman asked, his tummy bubbling with excitement. Vee was hardly ever big enough to play with him! This was the best morning ever!

Vee nodded, but her smile dropped a little after looking at Roman’s cars. Then she pulled her thumb up to her mouth. “Um, yeah… But I’m not allowed to play cars, am I? You said I get it wo-w-wo—” She paused and frowned at herself, looking like she was thinking super hard. “I get it… wong.”

“Good job, Vee,” Roman whispered with a smile that was quickly returned. (Daddy said it was good to make Vee feel good when she tried to make her voice work better, even if she didn’t always get the words right.) “And you don’t get it wrong but…” Roman looked at his cars—his absolute favourite toys that had to be played with in a really specific, special way—and bit his lip again. “Um, but I bet we can play another fun game without my cars!”

That made Vee smile again, so Roman thought that must have been a very clever idea. He was full of those!

“Cool!” he yelled a bit too loudly, because it made Vee startle. But then fae giggled and whispered “cool” back so Roman didn’t worry too much. “F-then we—we can—we—” Roman swallowed some spit before continuing, “We—we can play, um, um… the Knight and Princess game!”

Vee’s pink-painted fingernail went between faer teeth. “Okay, um, can we play it without the dwagons and evil wizard though?”

What a silly question! “Vee,” Roman chuckled and shook his head. “Of course we can’t!”

“Oh…” Vee slipped her finger between her lips and sucked it like a baby.

“A eminent of danger is essential to the Knight and Princess game,” Roman explained (even though it was really obvious). “If there weren’t any dragons or evil wizards then I wouldn’t have anything to save you from!”

Vee’s pigtails bounced and swished when she cocked her head to the side. “W-w-what’s a ‘emimenp’?”

What a silly question! “Eminent! It’s a big kid word, it means…” Roman blinked. Mommy used the word a few days ago and Roman asked what it meant and tried really hard to remember so he could use it around Mommy to make him proud. But he couldn’t really remember what Mommy told him it meant, he just remembered Mommy calling him a smart little boy for asking questions. It would be cool if Mommy was here to call him smart now…

Roman nibbled his toothbrush then spoke around it quietly, “It means, like, a thing.”

It made Roman feel a bit better to see his little sister nodding with big eyes. “That’s a weally big word,” she breathed, clearly impressed.

There was that nice bubbly feeling in his tummy again and Roman sat taller.

Then Vee kept talking. “Um, but I weally don’t wanna play it with the baddies…” 

“How come?” Roman complained, slouching in his seat. That was no fun!

Vee wiggled and instead of looking next to Roman’s face, her eyes dropped to her lap. Her cheeks went the same colour as her nails. “W-w-w-well, w-w—” she shook her head quickly and changed her voice to a whisper. “It’s just—It’s a bit scawy. And Mummy isn’t here to make it less scawy?” Vee’s voice went high and squeaky at the end. Then she pulled one of her pigtails forward and hided behind it.

Sometimes Roman forgot how much of a crybaby Vee could be. It got kind of annoying when he just wanted to play but Vee started crying and Daddy or Mommy or Nana told him off because it was ‘too loud’ or ‘too scary’ or ‘too much of a safety hazard’. Then again, Vee getting scared all the time just meant Roman got to be a cool, strong, protective big brother all the time. So it wasn’t all bad.

“Okay, we don’t have to play that one!” he quickly reassured her like a good big brother. He even put down his toothbrush and holded her hand and she squeezed his fingers! “We could play Tag or Mermaids,” (but maybe without the sharks) “or Pooh cards or Hide ‘n’ Seek or—”

Oh no! Roman’s empty hand flew up to his mouth and he stopped talking. But it was too late.

There were already shiny tears in Vee’s eyes. Fae pulled faer hand out of Roman’s to hug faer knees to faer chest.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I forgot!” Roman quickly whispered. He felt really, really bad. It was super important to not mention Hide and Seek to Vee, Mommy and Daddy said. It always made her sad because of what happened last time. “It’s okay, baby, we never ever have to play that one ever again, I promise!”

Vee whimpered. Then she lifted her little finger in between their faces. It was kinda shaky. “Pinky pwomise?” she whispered really quiet.

Roman wrapped his bigger pinky around Vee’s smaller one. “Pinky promise,” he said very seriously. Pinky promises were no joke.

Then there was a loud growl that made Vee gasp. Faer pinky squeezed Roman’s so tight it kinda hurt. But then fae let go a little and looked down at faer tummy. It growled again.

Roman burst into laughter, and it was quickly followed by Vee’s giggles.

“I’m hungry too,” he said, mainly to help Vee not feel embarrassed. “Let’s go have breakfast!”

“But, um, I thought we were gonna play somethin’?”

That was a good point… Luckily, Roman was really creative and clever! “We can play while we eat! I think I left my colouring stuff downstairs yesterday.”

“Okay!” Vee squeaked. Then she rolled on her tummy and crawled to the bed, using the bedpost to help pull herself up from the floor. The rustly pink bit of her pullup poked out from the back of her pyjama pants as she stood.

“Oh!” Roman remembered a very important thing, then grabbed his toothbrush and stood up too so he didn’t feel smaller than Vee. Daddy and Mommy usually checked the very important thing, but they weren’t here which meant Roman had to be a good big brother and help his baby sister! So he asked the very important thing: “Is your pullup wet?”

But it didn’t seem like it helped much. It just made Vee pout and pull the front of her pyjama shirt down. Kinda like if she was trying to hide her pullup. But that was silly! It wasn’t like Roman had x-ray vision to see through her pyjamas!

“I’m not gonna laugh or anything,” Roman promised, then repeated softer, “Is it wet?”

It took a few seconds for Vee to nod silently. Her cheeks were super pink.

“Okay, then you can go change your pullup while I put my cars away!”

“No!”

Roman’s mouth dropped open a little. Vee never did that! He looked down at faer grumpy face and frowned. “Vee, Daddy always gets you a new pullup if it’s wet, but he’s still asleep. And you don’t like me being there when you get a diaper change, right?”

Vee looked even grumpier just hearing it.

Just like Roman thought! He nodded to himself. “So then I can’t help you either. You gotta get a new one yourself.”

Vee’s pigtails bounced really fast this time because she was shaking her head lots.

The light, bubbly feeling in Roman’s chest was now a hard, squeezy feeling. This was way harder than it looked when Daddy did it. He didn’t really know what to do when his little sister didn’t listen to him.

“But…” Roman gripped his toothbrush handle tightly, then started chewing the bristly bit again. It made his voice kinda muffled, but he was still a big boy and could talk good. “But Daddy always—”

“No,” Vee whined, “I don’t wanna!” Faer thumb went in faer mouth and fae sucked it like a baby. “Don’ wanna, d-don’ wanna.” Faer voice was all high-pitched and wobbly… like fae was gonna cry.

“Okay! Okay, that’s cool!” Roman blurted, yanking his toothbrush from his mouth so fast it scratched his gums. He licked the scratch then carried on before Vee got any closer to tears, “You don’t hafta change your pullup. Don’t cry, baby.”

Vee pulled her thumb out of her lips and hid it behind her back. “I’m not a baby wight now…”

Roman nodded even though Vee was kind of always a baby. Gotta keep the baby happy. “Okay, you don’t hafta be a baby either.”

Even though it didn’t feel like Roman handled that very well, at least Vee didn’t look like she was gonna start blubbering anymore. He didn’t like dealing with Vee when she was crying.

Then Roman thinked really hard to himself for a moment (as clever boys do). He had stopped Vee from crying this time, but Vee always cried even more when she wet herself. And Roman didn’t like it when the carpet or the couch got wet, especially when their parents weren’t there. Roman was only a little boy, he didn’t know how to clean Vee’s accidents! So… 

“But you gotta pinky promise you won’t have a accident ‘til Daddy changes your pullup.”

Vee nodded really hard and wriggled her pinky around Roman’s. “Pinky pwomise, no accidents!”

There, all fixed! Now they could just have fun!

oOo

Being little without Mommy or Daddy was fun, but it was also really tricky. Of course, if you’re a clever little boy like Roman that gives you an advantage. But it was still tricky, even for him!

There was lots of stuff he had to remember. Like when they got Vee’s spare paci from Roman’s drawer, Roman had to check if the sucky bit of the paci had fluff on it before Vee put it in her mouth. But that was easy!

And then they had to go downstairs, except they weren’t allowed to walk on the stairs when they were little and alone. That’s what Mommy and Daddy always reminded him. So Roman had the genius idea to slide down the stairs on their butts! He made sure to hold Vee’s hand the whole time—not because he was scared of falling or anything! Just because that’s what big brothers do. And to be an extra amazing big brother, Roman even let Vee hold his hand after they were off the stairs.

Making breakfast was definitely a grownup job, but Roman tried his hardest with that too. He was really careful pouring oat milk into both of their sippy cups and screwed the lids on super tight with Vee’s help holding them. It was hard ‘cause they were still holding hands. They spilled a small puddle of milk on the countertop but Vee slurped it up real quick, like a vacuum!

And when Roman poured the Cap’n Crunch into their divider plates (Roman’s being a cool, blue Spongebob Squarepants one and Vee’s being a babyish, pink Hello Kitty one) he only dropped 14 pieces of cereal on the floor! He counted them all by himself. Then he left them there so that later he could prove to Mommy that he counted them right. Plus he didn’t wanna touch icky floor food! (He didn’t let Vee suck up those like a vacuum even though fae really wanted to. Silly baby!)

The most tricky bit was when he cut the watermelon. There was no situation Roman could think of where he would be allowed to use a knife when he was little, so he just stopped being little for a few minutes to use the knife then carry everything (including Vee) into the living room. 

But now he was little again! Him and Vee were colouring pretty pictures for Mommy to help him feel better and they both had yummy melon and cereal and milk. They were having lots of fun and it was all because of how clever and responsible Roman was!

“Wow boo bay pink ob cwayom aim?”

Roman leaned up from where he was lying on his tummy and propped himself on his elbows to look at Vee. “Whadja say, Fee-Fee?” he asked around his toothbrush, giggling when it made his voice sound funny.

The paci that was bobbing in Vee’s mouth suddenly shot out of her mouth. It dropped to her lap with a long trail of drool.

“Eww!” Roman laughed. It made the scratch on his gums hurt, so he licked it again. “Why’d you spit it out?!”

Vee smiled, faer lip shiny with spit. “I had to get it out weally fast!” fae squeaked and wiggled on her butt. Then faer smile went away a bit and fae pulled her shirt down and stopped wiggling. “Um, I said h-how do they think of cwayon names?” fae asked quieter.

This kinda thing happened all the time. Since Roman was bigger and older and cleverer than his baby sister, she asked him lots of questions. But sometimes Roman didn’t know the answers… so he just thought up ones instead! It was fun, but only if Daddy and Mommy weren’t around to say he was wrong. It wasn’t about being right, it was about being creative!

And about tricking his silly baby sister.

Roman picked up the crayon he had been using on his drawing and inspected the label. ‘Forest Green’. 

Really quickly—so that Vee didn’t think he was lying or anything—Roman thought of an answer: “They name them after wherever they find them growing.”

Apparently that wasn’t a good enough answer for Vee. Her eyebrows went down and she said, “Nu uh, cwayons don’t g-gw-w-gw—” She shook her head to stop the stutter and tried again. “Cwayons don’t come on twees!”

“Well duh,” Roman rolled his eyes. “Not all of them at least. Otherwise they would all be named after trees. Crayons can show up anywhere.”

Vee’s eyes went wide and a giggle bubbled up in Roman’s chest, but he kept it there. It was cool to be smart. But it was even cooler to pretend you didn’t care about how smart you are—like Mommy! So Roman didn't pay attention to Vee’s reaction and just kept colouring and humming a song he heard in one of his cartoons.

“Anywhere?” Vee whispered after a bit.

Roman’s legs kicked and wriggled in the air behind him, but he kept looking at his drawing. Keeping it cool. “Yeah, Vee, didn’t you know that already?”

It went quiet for a while after that. The green crayon was making nice scratchy sounds as Roman coloured and his toothbrush was making nice crunchy sounds in his mouth. His gums were kinda hurting now, but he still wanted to chew his toothbrush so he just ignored it.

He nearly forgot what they were talking about before. That was until Vee tugged on his sleeve and Roman looked over at her.

“Where did they find this one?” Vee asked, shoving one of the pink crayons right under Roman’s nose. Her other hand tugged nervously at her pyjama shirt and her knees wiggled where she was sitting criss-cross-applesauce. She was looking at him like he was the cleverest person in the world, waiting for his answer.

A big smile stretched Roman’s lips (so big he had to take his toothbrush out!) and he grabbed the crayon quickly. He couldn’t keep Vee waiting, fae was depending on him!

He carefully read the label—’Jazzberry Jam’—then offered his wisdom. “Oh, that one’s easy. They found it in a jam jar.”

Vee’s mouth went in a little circle shape. “Ooh, like Mummy’s jam?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“Wow!” Vee pulled the crayon close to her chest, kinda hugging it. “Does that mean it tastes like jam too?”

Roman’s throat felt tight because he wanted to laugh so bad. Keep it cool! “Why don’t you taste it and see?”

Even though Roman literally just told Vee to do it, he was still pretty surprised when Vee stuck out her tongue and dragged the crayon across it.

“What did it taste like?” he whispered with wide eyes. It was kind of exciting to think it might of tasted like jam!

Vee licked her lips and clicked her tongue. Then she pouted. “Jus’ like cwayon.”

“Aw, I thought it—uh, y-yeah, I knew it wouldn’t taste like jam,” Roman said, trying not to sound too disappointed. He shrugged his shoulders at Vee. “You need to check, y’know?”

Vee nodded solemnly. Then she hummed and started rifling through the other crayons she had left all over her scribbly paper.

“Mmm, what about… this one?”

Again, Roman accepted the crayon Vee held out to him and read the label. “Do you know what a carnation is?”

“Thas what Daddy gwows in the garden!”

“Yeah, so they found this crayon in one of Daddy’s flowers!”

“How d’you know that?”

“‘Cause it’s called Carnation Pink.”

“But how d’you know what it’s called?”

Roman sighed and pushed himself up from lying on the carpet. It was making his tummy hurt anyway. He swung his legs under him so he sat criss-cross-applesauce, and held the crayon up to Vee’s face.

“It says it on the label, see?”

Small, sticky fingers pulled Roman’s hand so close to Vee’s face that she went cross-eyed.

“Yuck, yuck,” Roman gasped and quickly pushed Vee’s hands off of his. He dropped the crayon on the floor and dragged his hand all over his pyjama shirt. The sticky melon juice made him feel gross! It made his head go jumbly and his fingers feel jittery. He whimpered and kicked his feet on the floor to try to shake off the ickies. “Vee, don’t get yucky stuff on me!” he whined.

Vee looked down at her hands confused. Then she giggled and held her palms up to Roman’s face. “Melon juice isn’t yucky!”

“It is! I don’t like it!” Roman cried, and didn’t like how his voice cracked. Tears suddenly made his eyes hot and burny, and he scrambled away from his baby sister.

Once he was a safe distance from the yucky, sticky melon juice, he hid his eyes behind his arm and squinted them tight real hard. One big, shaky breath. Another big, shaky breath. One more big, deep, steady breath. The tears were gone.

“Wo-Wo?”

After making sure he definitely wasn’t gonna cry like a baby anymore, Roman slowly looked over his arm to his sister.

Vee was hugging faer knees to faer chest and looking kinda scared. Fae pulled faer thumb out of faer mouth and whispered, “Weally sowwy for touchin’ you… Didn’t wanna make you cwy.”

“Am not!” Roman yelled, a bit too fast and a bit too loud and a bit too squeaky. His cheeks went hot. Then he tried to sound bigger and cooler. “I was—I was just focussin’ really hard.”

“Fucksin?”

Roman snorted loudly then hurriedly slapped his hand over his mouth. That made him feel a lot better already.

“Y-yeah, Vee,” he giggled, really hoping she used that word around Daddy later. That would be the funniest thing ever! “Yeah, I was ‘fucksin’ on, um… on the crayons!” He scooched back over to Vee. “I gotta focus real hard so I can read their names!”

“Weadin’?”

“Yeah, Vee, reading!”

That word made Vee really excited for some reason. Her hands started flapping and she squealed. “You a-a-a clever big kid!” she cheered excitedly and wiggled on her butt to sit closer next to Roman.

Roman’s chest went light and bubbly again! “Mhm, I’m a clever big kid ‘cause I can read!” He wanted to hold his little sister’s hand again, but it was yucky. So he put his arm around her and she put her head on his shoulder.

“A-a-a-a-am… A-a-a-a—” Vee cut herself off and growled a little. It was super small and soft though, like a kitten.

“You wanna try starting with a different word?”

Vee’s head nodded against him. “M-m-maybe I can wead too!”

Roman giggled. That was a silly idea! “Vee, you’re only a baby. Babies can’t read!”

“Not a baby wight now!” Vee looked up at Roman with her thumb between her lips and big pout.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Roman said, unconvinced. Then he frowned. “Hey, you’re not allowed to suck your thumb. Do you want your paci?”

Vee nodded but didn’t move or look any less grumpy, so Roman reached over and got it for her.

“There you go, baby,” Roman said when he pushed the sucky bit in Vee’s mouth. It made him giggle because she didn’t even realise he called her a baby.

“Fankoo,” Vee garbled around the paci.

Roman smiled. She was definitely a baby. But if she wanted to try reading then Roman could still be a good big brother and help her!

Luckily, the crayon Roman picked up from the carpet wasn’t sticky. He held it in front of Vee’s eyes again like the last one. “Okay, see there?” He pointed at the label. “It has letters on it, and that’s the name of the crayon! You just gotta read it out, then I can tell you where they found it.”

Vee took the crayon (gently this time) with a little hum.

“Can you tell me what it says, Titch?”

After a while of squinting at it, Vee tried to sound it out quietly. “M-m-mm… Ma… Mama?” 

That didn’t sound right.

“Can I see?” Roman held his hand out for the crayon.

Vee gave it to him then suckled faer paci real fast, staring at him. Waiting.

Roman read the label and blushed. “Um, you were close,” he giggled nervously. “It, um… It actually says ‘melon’.”

The paci made a pop sound when Vee pulled it out from her lips. “Wait, weally?”

“Yeah…” Roman smiled at his sister sheepishly. Then they both burst into giggles. How funny!

“Like our one!” Vee squealed.

The carpet went brush, brush, brush on Roman’s feet as he laughed. Nothing seemed so bad anymore! He barely even remembered why he was crying!

“I, um, I-I-I finished all my melon!” Roman bragged with a proud smile.

It was true! He was a big boy and he eated all his food and Daddy always told him how good that was. Which meant when he showed his empty plate to his caregivers later, they would definitely tell him how clever and well-behaved he was!

But Vee was only small, and that meant she had a smaller tummy. Roman could see Vee finished all her milk—that was her favourite—but there was still some melon and lots of cereal left on her plate. If Roman was gonna get told how good he was for eating his breakfast, he didn’t want Vee to miss out on it and be jealous!

“Vee-Vee, you gotta eat all yours too.”

Vee looked down at her plate, then back up at Roman with a pout. “All of it?” she whined.

Roman shrugged. He really didn’t care that much. “I dunno, just eat some.”

That cheered Vee up and she instantly smiled and reached for the food. Then her hand froze in mid-air.

“Wait…” She fidgeted with her pyjamas again. “Did you find any cwayons when you cut up the m-melon?”

Roman’s lips trembled with the effort not to laugh. He couldn’t let Vee think he was making fun of her.

“Nah, there weren’t any, I checked.” It made Vee’s shoulders relax… So Roman kept going, just ‘cause it was really fun. “They’re pretty rare actually—kinda like pearls in oysters. That’s why you probably haven’t seen any crayons growing in the wild before.”

Every word Roman said made Vee nod more strongly. “That makes sense,” she muttered, giving a final firm nod before grabbing a cube of watermelon without hesitation. With her bare fingers.

“Don’t you wanna use your baby fork?” Roman suggested with a grimace. It made Roman shiver just to look at the melon juice dripping all over Vee’s hands. He scooched further away from her.

Apparently Vee hadn’t heard Roman—or she just wanted to show him her answer instead of telling him. She squashed the melon against her mouth with her hand and held it there while she sucked it, looking at Roman with wide, innocent eyes. There was probably melon juice all over her face now. Gross!

“Okay, fine,” Roman sighed, picking his toothbrush back up and chewing it as he went back to his drawing. “Just don’t touch me or my drawing.”

oOo

Continues immediately in part 2! I just broke it up for readability and to give you a good place to take a break, get some water, go to the bathroom, and maybe even come back tomorrow if it's late for you and you're sleepy! The second chapter is a little longer and it will still be here when you're rested up <3

Take me to part 2!

Also on AO3!

Reblogs, comments, and asks are very appreciated! <3

#pink crayons and pinky promises #little/big series fics #little/big series #agere roman #agedre roman #little roman #agere virgil #little virgil #nana janus #cg janus #ts agere #ts agere fic #sanders sides agere

[thedevildomdaily]

Demonic Possessions Ch 8: Pizza, Prizes, & Panic

Note: Here’s the Master List for the full story. I recommend reading my stuff on my actual Blog if you enjoy OM! official music! Thank you so much for the support. Please let me hear from you in the comment section. I wanna talk OM!

If you follow this page, you're seeing things correctly! There were in fact TWO chapters posted this week. It's a 'thank you' for being understanding about my hiatus. I appreciate the support.

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW implied, light stuff

Saturday morning arrived and The House of Lamentation was on the quieter side. No arguing nephilim or brotherly squabbles to grate on another’s nerves. Early risers like Lucifer, Satan, and Beelzebub were in the dining room awaiting Lilly’s breakfast. The four of them were always the first ones up, leaving the other half to crawl out at various times.

After giving the typical 30 minute wait, Lilly gave the go-ahead for Beel to dig in. She’d learned long ago not to serve all the food at once on the weekend, preparing for stragglers vs Beelzebub’s appetite. She did find it unusual that Leviathan was missing. He must have pulled an all-nighter waiting for some special or doing a special walk-through for Deviltube.

*************

Leviathan opened his eyes slowly. He was so exhausted and felt on the heavy side. There was also this nagging feeling that someone was talking about him.

Shuffling around in his bathtub bed, the demon realized that it wasn’t his imagination that made him feel heavy. It was the nephilim snuggling on top of him that was passed out.

The female nephilim just about fell off the bench as she grasped at her own heart. Of course he’d say something extremely otaku in this situation. And after a moment to think on this, she nodded as she stared straight ahead, “I'm not seeking-out multiple relationships intentionally. But I can't deny the temptation of that fantasy either..." she chuckled, "You know what Levi-kun. That’s exactly it. I want a reverse harem life. I spent centuries vying for suffrage right. Letting women take a stand for equality. Voting, working jobs outside the home, and for fucks sake the right to wear some jeans! So why can’t I have a harem on my own when Mr. King Solomon saunters around, leaving a city’s worth of women back home!!!!!!?!”

“Mmmmh…” Lena nuzzled against his chest, making Leviathan’s heart want to explode from all of this contact. He suddenly recalled a lot of sounds like that just now as well.

“Lena...you’re on top of me…” he said a little louder.

Her sky blue eyes slowly peeked open. A view of a blushing demon beneath her slowly became clearer. “Oh, good morning Levi…” Her left hand ran up his firm abs, caressing him sensually as she nuzzled him again. “You’re so comfortable to snuggle with. I think I slept better on top of you than I did in Asmo’s bed the other night.” There was a soft giggle and she closed her eyes again.

Leviathan didn’t know what to make of that statement or the state in which they were in. Pulling his blanket down from them, he realized Lena wasn’t wearing her shirt and neither was he. Images of her stripping him of his signature hoodie and undershirt flashed before his eyes. She kissed his chest and ran her tongue across…and he dared to remove her top! The bra...it was his hair color!

“Aaaagh!” he shouted in a panic.

“What’s the matter!?” Lena raised up, completely straddling him. She looked around the room and everything looked fine. She then looked down at the demon beneath her. “Are you okay? You’re not sick are you?”

“N-nooo….” he murmured, covering his crimson face with his hands.

She looked at him curiously for a moment, then realized what was going on. It was the shock of spending the night with someone. He probably thought he dreamed it all. How adorable could Leviathan get?

Setting-up completely, the nephilim looked down at him, then ran both hands up his torso, feeling that ripped, swimmer’s body of his. Gently, she removed his hands and asked for him to look at her. “Leee-vi kuuun….” His eyes opened. She was so sexy and beautiful; her eyes were hypnotizing.

“Wasn’t last night fun?” she asked. Levi nodded rapidly.

“I-it was fun.A LOT of fun…” he admitted. It made Lena giggle.

She took his hands and brought them up to her waist. “Levi-kun. You know now you can touch my body all that you want right? In fact I really want you to.”

Absent-mindedly, Leviathan felt up and down her sides and even dared to grip the nephilim’s ass. It was so firm, yet soft at the same time. It made her gasp and bite her bottom lip.

Lena lowered herself back down on him, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. “Your hands are so big and strong. You’re so incredibly sexy…”

He doubted that wholeheartedly, and yet there was a half-naked 3D woman, the prettiest he’d ever met on top of him. “L-Lena…” He moaned lightly as she kissed his chest again.

“I’d love to continue where we left off last night, but I probably have morning breath…” she pouted at him, but kissed his chest again. “Want to shower together?”

The question caused the demon to fully sit up and nearly toss the nephilim backwards. The sheer thought of him being naked and wet with her was more than any close-in otaku could take. As a precaution, Levi pinched his nose, knowing blood would gush out.

“No Lena….don’t say things like that!!!!” He whimpered.

She couldn’t help but give an evil little chuckle, “You don’t want to? But last night you dove face-first into my tiddies with an itadakimasu. I thought you’d love to get wet and wild with me today!!”

Truth was, although they did make out a lot and he did carry her to his bed. It took a moment, but Levi mustered up the courage to take off her shirt. He kissed and rubbed his face into her boobs, and then he went for the unhooking of the bra.

It was the saddest struggle she’d ever been involved with. He then cried into her chest after all the failed attempts and passed out. If he couldn’t recall that travesty, Lena wasn’t about to refresh his memory. She’d surprise him and not wear one next time. Or maybe she had a front-opening one for starters?

“Don’t tease me about it…” he whined, “I really went beyond my limits last night…”

“Plus ultra babe…” She couldn’t hold back her smirk.

“Stop it!”

“Never. It’s not my way of the ninja…”

“You’re not funny.”

****************

After playing around with Leviathan a little while longer, Lena urged him downstairs. They were both ravenous after all the fun they had the night before.

The two of them entered the dining room and felt eyes upon them. ALL eyes.

“WHAT. THE. HELL!!!!?” Asmo squealed at the top of his lungs.

Mammon, on the other hand, was silent. Dead silent. The rest gave the two of them a once over, save for Beelzebub. He did pause, but his dire need for food out-weighed any curiosity he held for the reason that Lena was a disheveled mess in Leviathan’s hoodie.

“Ah-hmm....I take it a congratulations big brother are in order?” Satan asked in a catty manner as he sipped his cup of coffee.

Leviathan was tomato red and his teeth were clenched. He had no idea how to respond to any of this, but somehow he had the urge to fight everyone if they said anything to Lena.

“Maybe so…” Lena said nonchalantly as she led Levi to his seat, holding his hand. She sat in the empty seat beside him, acting completely calm.

“You guys look so cute together, although I’m totally jealous and wish I could’ve joined the fun last night…” Asmo chimed. Lena giggled at him, but Levi gave him a glare. He’d never share her like that.

Finally, Lucifer had something to say on the matter. “Leviathan. Either ask for your jacket back or find another high neck top to put on later. Your love bites are unseemly…”

“My wha?”

Most of the brothers began to chuckle as Levi looked down. Mammon was roaring at his little brother the most.He was in his low neck tank. Lena had given him hickies all over and he never checked himself over for any.

“W-why didn;t you say anything?...” he asked the nephilim.

“Oh, I thought you knew…” she responded nonchalantly, “I mean, did you see the ones you left on me?”

Mammon wrapped his arm over his brother’s shoulder and pulled him over in a brotherly manner, “I’m happy for you lil bro. If you need any advice, just ask The Great Mammon. I’ll help you out!”

“What advice could you possibly give?” Belphegor called out to Mammon.

“What d’ya mean by that you lil brat?!” Mammon responded.

A lot of bickering began around the table. Leviathan was so embarrassed until a firm hand squeeze brought him to look at Lena.

She merely gave Leviathan a wink and continued to eat her breakfast. This made his face glow, but he managed a small smile. It also gave him enough courage to ignore his brothers through the rest of their meal.

***********

“So did you guys go all of the way?” Asmodeus was the first to ask. He followed the girls to Lilly’s room where they both got ready for the day. And of course they talked about the hottest gossip the house has had in a long time.

“That’s none of your business Mister!” Lena responded as she sorted between outfits.

Lilly lectured the demon for being too nosy, but they both watched a happy Lena decide on her clothes. The two smiled at each other, giving a knowing look.

“I can’t help but to ask,” Lilly finally spoke up, “What was he like?” Asmo perked-up, ready to learn everything.

Lena sighed, but her smile remained, “He was so sweet. Definitely terrified. But the way he kissed was so...gentle…” She gave a little sigh. “I honestly feel both happy and guilty at the same time.”

“How so?” Lilly asked.

Lena furrowed her brows, trying to find a way to describe it. “He was so nervous. But I find him so cute. And I feel guilty that I liked him...squirming around a bit. I’ve seldom been with a submissive male before. Or a nervous one.”

“You like it. So what?” Asmo commented, “There’s nothing wrong with that. No force was there?”

“Of course not. I even bluntly asked for consent and he pulled me into his lap!” Lena’s eyes widened and she covered her hand over her mouth for a moment. ‘You two better not say anything about this to anyone. You hear me!” Her eyes began to glow with killing intent, leaving both the demon and human nodding. “Good.”

Lilly thought about things for a moment, before asking a serious question, “Are the two of you dating now?...are you a couple?”

The nephilim thought about for a moment before responding, “Well, we really didn’t do a lot of talking about it...things just happened…”

“Do you want to be in a relationship with him? You definitely need to be upfront and talk with Levi about it before going forward with anything.” Lilly just wanted her new friend and Levi to remain happy and on the best of terms as possible.

Asmo, for the first time, looked at Lena with a serious expression. “Lilly is right. You need to talk to my brother about this as soon as possible. I’m the last person to be serious about this kind of thing, but Leviathan is the Avatar of Envy; the Admiral of the Devildom’s navy and when he’s mad enough he can summon Lotan to drown and destroy nearly everything in its path. Be careful.”

Lena took their words seriously. She really didn’t think things through before starting things with him. They had valid and, to be honest, horrifying points.

“I believe I’ve mentioned this to the both of you at one point or another. I’m not the type to be held down to one great romance. Not after my last relationship. And NO. I do not want to talk about that. Not ever!” She closed her eyes and sighed, “The best I can do is be honest with him and let him know that. I want an open relationship and I won’t go any further with him if he can’t accept that. I’m not going to make false promises or put effort into something I don’t want.”

Her eyes fell upon Asmodeus. The two of them were rather flirtatious enough. And to be honest, that night she’d have definitely went all the way with him had she not been so intent and excited about the gifts she had for Leviathan. He smiled back at her, although there was a darker look to his eyes. He definitely sensed what was on her mind.

***********

“Levi-kun, let’s go on a lunch date today.” Lena said when she entered his room. Both he and Mammon were playing Luariogi-cart with Belphie asleep as he waited to play the winner.

The sudden request caused the otaku demon to crash; he was frozen. Of course Mammon shouted and cheered, taking the win and began to gloat about it and tease his little brother. Belphegor yelled at him for waking him up and threw his pillow at him.

“D-d-d...d-d-DATE!?” Leviathan stuttered, sounding like he was being electrocuted.

Lena giggled then picked Belphie’s pillow up and slammed it into Mammon for his laughter at Levi and then puffed it up and gave it back to Belphegor. “Yes, a date. I would like to go out with you today..to get more acquainted and to see where things go. I’ll meet you down in the Foyer in half an hour. Casual dating attire only. I want to go to the arcade for sure!” She winked at the demon and waved at everyone before leaving.

Levi was catatonic again. Mammon and Belphegor exchanged evil grins and let their brother stand there for a few minutes before saying anything.

“Don’t you need to get ready?” Belphegor asked in a knowing tone.

“Yeah, for your d-d-d-date!? Ha ha!” Mammon mocked.

This caused their brother to panic, then yell at them to leave. He had no idea what he should wear, what he was supposed to do or anything. It was an absolute nightmare for the reclusive demon. He never pictured himself in this situation. The closest thing he’d ever been to a date was when he went to themed cafes or idol concerts, admiring his favorites from afar.

**********************

When Leviathan began down the stairs to the foyer, he stopped the moment he laid eyes upon Lena. She was standing there, waiting on him, in a cute black dress that had glowing jellyfish on it. She wore purple stockings and goth boots. She matched her aesthetic to match his. It made him blush.

Lena was looking at her DDD, researching where they could go and what they could do together. She was admittedly nervous after the conversation she’d had with Lilly and Asmo earlier. Who knew dating a demon could be so dangerous?

Feeling eyes upon her, the nephilim looked up to see Leviathan frozen on the stairs, blushing and staring down at her. “Well, hello there gorgeous.” She smiled and winked at him. “You ready to have some fun today?!”

When he only nodded and stood there, Lena ran up the stairs to meet him and took his hand, “well then let’s go cutie!” and pulled him with her.

“C-c-cutie…” he whispered, smiling to himself.

***************

Lena and Leviathan decided to get Screamin Berry Swirl slushies and hit the arcade first. The nephilim decided to start with things the demon was both familiar and comfortable with. She truly wanted things to work between the two of them and she also didn’t want him to be on edge the whole time they were together.

“Are the top 10 scores on this game all yours?” she asked.

“Of course they are. I’ve dominated the scores since they got this in.” he boasted.

Lena smiled and joined in laughter with him. “My favorite arcade games back home are the Dino Park Disaster games where you have to take down carnivores and outrun stampedes. Pretty much any shooting arcade games. Oh and racing ones. Pinball games as well…”

Listening to her go into a list of favorite arcade games brought a strong sense of joy in Leviathan’s heart. She really knew her stuff. And it seemed she was genuinely interested in hearing about all of the achievements he held in the games at the arcade. It made him feel a connection to someone that he hadn’t before.

“Hey, look!” Lena jumped with excitement after picking-up a massive sci-fi gun to an alien shooter game. “This looks badass! Let’s play two-player!”

********************

“That was so much fun! Look at our ticket haul!” Lena exclaimed. She was definitely in the moment, having so much fun with Leviathan.

“That was the only game I didn’t have a high score because none of my brothers or anyone could keep up with me.” Levi added.

The two were sitting down at a booth, counting their mega stacks of tickets, eating pizza and cheesy bread. “We make a great team!” she cheered, making Leviathan blush as he slurped his slush. He thought so too.

“If there’s a way for us to play human realm MMORPGs and other games like that here in the Devildom, I have a few that we need to team-up in. I don’t like to play with strangers...can't rely on them too much. I have a couple of friends from school that play and I think you’d get along with them well enough…”

This felt like a dream. He was on a date with a 3D female. One that was enthusiastic about anime, manga, comics, collecting memorabilia, and video games. Leviathan just watched and listened to Lena while in a dreamy-like state of mind.

After a while, the nephilim realized she’d been the only one to talk. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I kinda went off the deep end with excitement there….”

“No, I totally wanted to know what games you play!” Levi chuckled, “It’s so cool to finally have someone that wants to talk about non-normie things! And I’m really curious about these human realm games.”

The two talked shop for a while longer, then cashed their tickets in. Lena got a giant stuffed purple dragon creature that actually puffed smoke from it’s nose and mouth. It had ominous, glowing eyes that was totally something Lena would choose. She also got a matching dragon wing headband.

Leviathan chose some more figurines and a wall scroll of a Devildom anime icon. It was on the more colorful and cute side. It was a funny dynamic to see a demon with cute items and a half angel with scary monster stuff.

“Levi...you’re having a lot of fun today aren’t you?” Lena asked as they exited the arcade. She was looking down at her boots as she walked, not wanting to look at the demon. She had been weary of bringing him out since he’d made it clear that he was a shut-in and hated leaving his room.

There was hesitation, but Levi nodded and looked to the girl at his side. “I am…” There was a split second pause before he panicked and asked, ‘Are you not?! I bet you were bored; just being nice at doing this because I'm just a worthless otaku nerd!” He began huffing and wheezing as Lena stared at him wide-eyed and confused.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA dude. Chill!” She finally said, pressing her hand against his chest. She was sure he was about to have an actual panic attack and keel over. “Your brain is going into overdrive hun. I’ve had an absolute blast with you today. It’s been fun and refreshing and I’m loving getting to hang out with you.”

She wasn’t able to see his eyes, beyond the indigo bangs covering his face, but she could tell Leviathan was blushing and possibly staring down at her hand. She stepped in close and gave him a hug. “I would’ve been honest with you if I wasn’t having any fun. Trust me on that.” He nodded and hesitantly pressed his hand against her back, returning the hug. Lena couldn’t help but grin to herself at his trembling hand.

Pulling away, the nephilim took his hand and led him away from the Arcade, looking for a bench to sit on and watch a pretty fountain. It was the perfect atmosphere for their date she thought. A great place to talk quietly about their relationship.

“Levi, I want to be honest with you…” Lena began, “I want to talk about us...if you’d like there to be us.”

“Us…” he pondered for a moment and then bit his lip. Leviathan never thought he’d have a conversation like this. He’d never felt more nerve-wracking.

The nephilim gave him a moment to process before continuing, “Before we make any decisions, I want to be forward and honest with you. I think that’s the most important thing about a relationship. Keeping an open dialog with each other and always being honest about our feelings...ok?”

Leviathan was still reeling on the idea that there was a possibility for them to be an ‘us’. After she shook his arm to get his attention, the demon gasped and then nodded, “Uhm...yes. That’s good…”

“The thing I wanted to tell you first and foremost is where I stand on relationships in general.” She was beginning to feel nervous, thinking about Lilly and Asmo’s advice. “I believe in open relationships...especially since we are eternal beings...forever is a long time.”

The demon’s eye widened just enough that Lena could see them. He was still. “So you’re like Asmo….totally into being lots of other people…?”

“Well, comparing myself to the Avatar of Lust is a little extreme, but sorta.” Lena bit her bottom lip and shifted around uncomfortably. She was self-conscious about this part of herself, but nonetheless she wanted to be open with him. “I-I uh understand if it’s not something you’re okay with...it’s why I wanted to say something up front before we established a….deep connection…”

And there went Leviathan’s poor demonic heart again. Ready to yeet from his chest.

“You could totally see anyone you want to...both in reality or otherwise. However, I can’t promise you complete monogamy. It’s just not my nature. And I don’t want you to ever get upset if I choose to flirt and mingle with someone else.”

“So you are telling me...you’re interested in….living your life like…” Leviathan said quietly. Drawing it out made Lena’s eyes widen with anticipation. “Like a….REVERSE HAREM!?!”

The female nephilim just about fell off the bench as she grasped at her own heart. Of course he’d say something extremely otaku in this situation. And after a moment to think on this, she nodded as she stared straight ahead, “I'm not seeking-out multiple relationships intentionally. But I can't deny the temptation of that fantasy either..." she chuckled, "You know what Levi-kun. That’s exactly it. I want a reverse harem life. I spent centuries vying for suffrage right. Letting women take a stand for equality. Voting, working jobs outside the home, and for fucks sakes the right to wear some jeans! So why can’t I have a harem on my own when Mr. King Solomon saunters around, leaving a city’s worth of women back home!!!!!!?!”

Lena shook her fist in anger thinking about it. She could do what the fuck she wanted with whom the fuck she wanted damn it. “But in all seriousness. Levi…” she returned her attention to the demon, “I’m giving you the option of being my first ever demon lover. I will be as committed to you as I possibly can. You can’t even begin to imagine the benefits of that. You just have the right to know what you'd be getting into if you want to be in a relationship with me.”

She let him stew over those bold words for a while, resting her head on his shoulder gently as she watched the dancing waters before them. “I really like you Levi…”

“I...like you too Lena...chan.”

His head gently rested atop hers. The two sat in silence as the imitation sun of Diavolo’s slowly disappeared from the Devildom sky.

**************

It was dusk by the time Leviathan and Lena returned to The House of Lamentation. The two stood outside the front door like high-schoolers not wanting their date to end. Lena took both of Leviathan’s hands, while their prizes sat on the steps. “Thank you for a lovely date at the arcade today. It was a lot of fun.”

“Your welcome….” Leviathan was looking away from her, completely embarrassed. She was the one that asked him out and planned the whole day. He should thank her for even considering a date with someone like him.

Feeling that he was about to go deep into unsavory thoughts, Lena stood on her tiptoes and kissed the demon. It was soft and sweet. Just like him. “Hey, we can do more of what we did last night if...we can sneak past all of the others…”

Wide eyes stared at the nephilim. If there was something Leviathan wanted, it was definitely more of what they did last night. Just imagining the feeling of her….and the way she….and how they both…

Leviathan in his boldest move of his eternal life, grabbed their loot in one hand and took Lena by the other and raced inside the manor. No man, demon, nephilim, or ghostly was gonna keep this otaku from getting to feel 3D oppas again!

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obeyme #obey me headcanon #obeyme headcanon #obey me fanfic #obeyme fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obeyme oc #obey me oc #om! fanfic #om! oc #om! headcanons

[mikwrites-archive]

of angels, blood, and lifetimes

☞ pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader         ☞ warnings: kind of stockholm syndrome? blood, major death, guns ☞ wc: 4.8k words        ☞ genre: mafia/gang au

☞ a/n: this used to be a haikyuu fic that i did but wasn’t too happy with the more i read it so i revamped it for jeonghan !! i hope u guys like it ♡ and if u see any mistakes w the names pls lmk !!! ignore the title highkey i hate it but im so bad at titles HAHAH

Jeonghan wonders how you ended up in a place like this.

The lounge is sordid and foul, filled with an underlying stench of mold and dust, creaking floorboards, and disreputable individuals that looked like they’d pounce upon you like a pack of ravenous wolves if given the chance.

Yet your demeanor is relaxed, the bright spotlight cast upon you and the stage softening your features and illuminating the delicate, gauzy dress you adorned as the deep maroon curtains are swept aside for you, and only you. Even your voice was gentle as you sang, like a gentle angel, as if lulling the wolves to placidity in their den. 

But doesn’t distract him from the job. It’s rare something ever does, in all honesty, but Jeonghan almost feels remorseful for what’s about to happen.

When your performance ends, the hollers and catcalls dying down as the curtains swing shut, Jeonghan cocks his head slightly towards the hallway next to the stage where the bathrooms, and no doubt, the dressing rooms were located, with the three other men accompanying him.

“She was pretty good.” Joshua comments, and Seungcheol barks a laugh.

“Yeah. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re after her brother though.”

“She’s pretty too.” Joshua ignores Seungcheol’s statement and Jihoon who rolls his eyes at the former’s statement. “What do you think, Hannie?”

“I think we should stay focused.” 

Joshua laughs lightly at the answer, but doesn’t get a chance to reply, the dressing room door being swung open with Jeonghan’s knuckles hovering in the air, about to knock.

“Can I help you?” 

You’re somehow more breathtaking up close, hair unpinned, a fluffy robe wrapping your body, and your features are clearly startled at their appearance. 

“We were just wondering if we could have a moment to talk?”

You don’t have a choice, but you’re unaware of that, uneasiness flooding you as you search your memory for any recognition of the men and coming up blank.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak to the owner of the lounge if this is about business, and I don’t take-”

“Sorry if it wasn’t clear, honey.” Jeonghan brushes the side of his suit coat aside lightly, revealing the handle of his gun, and your eyes widen. “But we weren’t asking.”

You let them in quickly after that, and suddenly, you’re sat down with him, the rest dispersed around the room, poking curiously around your vanity and dresses. 

“Your last name is Jeon, right?” Jeonghan inquires, and you nod. “Have you been in contact with your brother lately?”

The mention of Wonwoo drains all warmth from your face, and Jeonghan is taken aback by how open you are. 

He’s been around enough to tell a liar, and somehow, your posture is open and vulnerable, like a blooming flower, something that almost blinded him, as if you were a beacon of light at the end of the dark tunnel that was the dark business he was in.

“I haven’t seen him in almost a year. He took all my family’s money then left without a trace.” Your tone is bitter, and Jeonghan curses under his breath. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“Your brother,” He inhales slowly, answering in clipped sentences. “Owes us some work.”

Your innocence does nothing to disguise the way your gaze sharpens in thought, and Jeonghan smiles inwardly.

“Were you two close?” He prompts, changing the subject.

“I wouldn’t think so.” You start slowly. “But if you’re asking me whether he’d talk to me, I don’t know. Maybe. People have always told me he felt an obligation to care for me, being his younger sibling, but it’s not something that’s ever really stood out to me.”

It’s good enough for Jeonghan, who gets up, brushing his pants off as he does so, ignoring your perplexed gaze as he glances at his men, who stop their curious investigation about the room and stand beside you.  

“What’s- don’t touch me.” You snap, slapping Jihoon’s hand away from your arm, and the room suddenly drops in temperature.

“Woozi.” Jeonghan warns, and he sighs.

“You really think she won’t struggle?”

“What’s going on?” You repeat demandingly, and Jeonghan is struck with a sudden appreciation and interest at your boldness.

“You’re coming with us.”

The words are heavy, and silence blankets the room for a few moments, and your quiet question unsettles everyone.

“Do I have a choice?” 

“I think you know the answer to that, honey.” Jeonghan attempts to be sympathetic, but he also knows to not let his guard down, the prettiest rose often having the sharpest thorns.

“I can’t.” 

Someone behind you snorts, and it steels your resolve, despite the unreadable expression of the man in front of you who raises an eyebrow. 

“I have to work.” You explain haltingly.

This brings a bout of laughs around you, and your eyebrows furrow indignantly, irritation rising at the sound. 

“I’m being serious.” You argue as they die down. “My parents can’t work; it’s only me. Wonwoo took almost everything.”

“Maybe your brother should have thought about that, before he-”

“They’ll be given sufficient funds.” Jeonghan cuts through impatiently, and everyone blinks. 

“You’re not serious.” Joshua exclaims, and instead of relieved, you look scandalized. 

“And I’m not stupid enough to entrust my parents to some organization hunting my brother.” You burst, and Jeonghan grins.

“Smart. But which would you prefer, leaving them with no assets, or have some organization give them money for the time being?” 

You nod shortly after a reluctant pause, and Jeonghan gestures for Seungcheol and Jihoon to take you to the car, to which they do so silently, flanking you in obedient order. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Hannie.” Joshua muses as they exit the room, one you wouldn’t be in the presence of for a while, and Jeonghan looks suddenly grim at the statement. 

“I’m not in charge for no reason.”

You stay in your designated room for the entire first day.

It’s luxurious, bigger than the living room in your own family home much less your own bedroom, and although you aren’t restricted to this single room alone, free to roam the entire house, you stay locked inside upon choice.

You can hear the commotion outside at times, or the curious rustles and whispers at your door, but you don’t move towards any of them, deep in thoughts pertaining to your situation.

It was almost twisted, the more you thought about it. 

The syndicate you were currently held within, was revealed fairly quickly as you made the drive to their headquarters, and darker than you expected. It chilled you to think your brother was involved in mafia business, and you prickled with sympathy at the realization of how young some of the members were. 

It made your head spin to think of why, how and when, since primarily you thought of your own involvement now. 

You knew you were here because of your relation to your brother, but as to why they were treating you so well, considering whatever deed Wonwoo had committed against them. There was also how they figured upon finding your brother and when you’d be able to leave.

If you ever would be able to.

The thought sends a chilling shiver down your spine, and just as you swing your legs off of your bed, there’s a rap on the door, and Joshua opens it soon after with a small smile.

“Dinner’s ready. You’ve been cooped up here all day, everyone wants to meet you.” 

You trudge alongside him slowly, and he doesn’t look impressed with your lackluster behaviour, but you don’t care. You simply want to eat, survey the members, and return to your room. 

There’s eight of them at the table.

Yoon Jeonghan was the leader of the group, his right hand man being Hong Joshua, with Choi Seungcheol and Lee Jihoon as close second and third. There was Lee Seokmin, an experienced member, though he seemed to fill in for any of the top four whenever needed, and Kim Mingyu, the basis of intelligence research and support. There was also Boo Seungkwan, a nervous looking boy, though skilled, and Lee Chan, master of reconnaissance, the two youngest members.

They don’t talk to you much, and you’re not exactly inviting them to, although the curiosity is palpable through each member’s gaze.

The scrape of forks against plates is all that fills the room, until everyone is satisfied, and it’s broken by Jihoon.

“Anyone wanna go shoot some rounds?”

You’re left to sit there confusedly as they all scoot back their chairs, agreeing quietly or silently, leaving the room until Chan peers back inside.

“Are you coming?”

Seeing that you didn’t remember how you got to the dining room in the first place from your own accommodation, you quickly stand, following and trying not to get distracted throughout the winding hallways. 

You find yourself in a gun range, and you’re torn between wanting to laugh at your circumstances, or being concerned as you stand by the doorway, watching as everyone bustles around as if it were a normal occurrence (as it was).

They place bets, apparently Jeonghan being the reigning champion of the targets, and it’s fairly amusing to see them curse and shout as they all fire off. 

“Can I try?” You pipe up, attracting the attention of the group with surprise, and they all exchange glances before shrugging in agreement; but before one of them can offer his gun, you tug a small pistol out of the folds of your clothes, and they all halt.

“Did you always have that on you?” Seungcheol shrieks, and you stare at him.

“Have you seen where I work?”

“No one thought to check her for weapons?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow amusedly, and mutters arise from the three who accompanied him. You want to retort how you weren’t stupid enough to pull your tiny pistol on a group of them but bite your tongue.

You pay no attention to the bickering that arises after as well, aiming your gun for a few moments before firing, and making the group jump. You continue on consistently, and when the bullets run out, you stare at the blistering holes in the target, eyes burning as they observe the results interestedly.

You don’t catch the pair of deep brown eyes upon you as you place the gun gingerly next to the other emptied ones.

“She did better than you, ‘Kwannie.”

“Shut up, Dino.” 

That night, you’re awoken by what you think is a ghost.

Your sleep was restless anyways, being unable to slumber peacefully throughout the entire night ever since you’ve arrived, so as you tiptoe out of your room to discover the source, it’s almost welcomed.

Your fingertips trail against the vintage wallpapered walls as your ears strain to follow the melodic drifting voice, halting at  the ajar doorway you deemed your destination, moonlight streaming out. 

The sound is almost haunting, high and lonely and beautiful, and you sway to it unconsciously in your attempt to stay at a standstill as you listen outside the doorway. It cuts off as you make the tiniest step closer to hear better, and you hold your breath. 

“Who’s there?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, praying to whatever higher being that resides in the heavens to protect you from the outcome of revealing yourself as you step cautiously into the room. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Jeonghan sighs, and you release a breath of relief. 

He looks like an angel in the gauzy moonlight, not the cherub, rosy cheeked ones, with fluttery wings, but the powerful, punishing, broad shouldered beings with cold gazes. He reminds you of a double edged sword, glinting, in delicate beauty and dangerous pain.

“Your voice is beautiful.” You offer softly, clutching the material of your soft pyjama gown, and Jeonghan smiles wryly.

“Says the lounge singer in our midst.” 

“The company at the lounge aren’t exactly the best judges. I don’t think they really care about how I sound too much, just how I look.” You muse, sitting down as Jeonghan gestures for you to.

“I would say they have pretty good judgement, honey, hearing and seeing both firsthand.”

You don’t reply, looking away from his amused gaze, perking up as he begins to hum, starting to sing once more.

You blame it upon the late hours that your eyes flutter heavily to darkness as you listen, propping your face upon the heel of your palm, and when you regain fuzzy consciousness, you’re rocking slightly side to side, just enough to be aware of the arms cradling you, and the flash of blonde hair as you crack your eyes open.

You sleep throughout the rest of the night, waking up in your own room, wondering if the previous night was a dream.

“The boss wants dinner with you.”

“Now?” You glance up from the television screen, at Seungkwan who stood at the doorway, scoffing.

“No, tonight. It’s three in the afternoon, for god’s sake.”

He dodges the pillow you chuck at him easily, and raises an eyebrow.

“Getting quite bold, for a hostage.”

“If you wanted me dead, it’d have happened by now.” You muse, eyes trained upon the screen once more, as you had spent the majority of your time here doing. 

Seungkwan smiles at that, moving to leave, calling over his shoulder. 

“Be ready by seven. Someone will come to get you.”

Dinners with Jeonghan end up becoming a regular occurence, the first few filled with awkward silence and stunted conversation, until it became more smooth, skimming the surface of being almost friendly and welcomed in their happenings. 

By the seventh dinner, you were prepared to ask a question that had nagged at you since they first appeared at the lounge you worked at, and as the forks and knives were set down, you were set to inquire. Yet Jeonghan seemed to have the same idea.

“Would you ever consider joining us?”

“What?” All thoughts of your own question flee your mind, and are filled with numb shock. 

“Well, you’ve been here for a while. There’s not really anywhere you can go after this is all over. You’d make more money than you would singing.”

“When this is all over.” You repeat slowly. “What does that mean? What is going on in the first place and what does it have to do with my family?”

Jeonghan sighs, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers. 

“Wonwoo was stealing money from our operations. The last time any of us saw him, he had just transferred a large sum into his own account, before disappearing.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m a lot of things, honey.” Jeonghan is solemn, no sign of deceit upon his features, and you shake your head. “But I’m not a liar.” 

You tremble as you clench your fists, gritting your teeth, and he thinks your eyes are glittering with tears, but the sound you emit is a hissed snarl of anger, and he blinks.

“He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t.” Your gaze snaps up to meet him abruptly, and Jeonghan almost recoils. “Tell me how much it was.”

He finds it impossible to refuse in your gaze, and when he tells you the specific amount, your face hardens.

“He stole all that money… and still took mine, our family’s…”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t need your apologies.” You snap, and he quiets as you fume. He can practically see your anger, raging in a fueling tempest as you stand and pace, no doubt trying to process and calm your whirling emotions. “I worked for years, spent years of my life in that shitty lounge, and I’m never going to get them back.” 

Collapsing back into your seat, you don’t realize tears are running down your cheeks until Jeonghan reaches over and brushes one away with his thumb, and you take a gasping breath, shuddering as it all crashes down. 

And he sits next to you, through it all.

The next night, you don’t sleep.

Your inability to fall asleep is inhibited by the events of the previous night, eyes still aching from the outburst, and also to the fact that there’s nothing stopping you from getting up out of the tossed and tangled sheets and leaving, for the mafia was out on business.

But you stay, staring up at the ceiling, and you don’t understand why. 

You’re not sure if it’s lucky or not that you do, because as you sit up, planning on getting a drink of water to clear your thoughts and soothe your throat, your door bursts open, and the first thing you see is blood.

“You’re still here.” Joshua breathes, eyes wide, matching your own gaze of shock. “Do you know basic first aid?”

You don’t get to answer, or perhaps you took too long, because a chorus of shouts and members clamour down the hallway, and Joshua dashes after them in a haste, with you trailing after in confusion.

The red stains are staggered on the floor and streaked on the walls from fingertips leaning on support, and you follow it like a sick trail of breadcrumbs to the witch’s house, the infirmary. 

Apparently, Mingyu knows first aid and hospital procedures, snapping on blue latex gloves, holding a variety of metal surgical tools while the rest of them bustle around, assisting in any way they can.

“Stay down, or you’ll make it worse.” 

“I’m fine.” Jeonghan grits, a contrast to his wince as he props himself up on his elbows.

“You literally got shot.” Joshua looks serious for once, and Jeonghan collapses, groaning. 

“Hey, you.”

You jolt at the order, realizing you’re being spoken to, and you answer with a croak.

“If you’re gonna be here, at least do something useful. Help remove the material.” 

Mingyu points at a pale Jeonghan, and you swallow, making your way over and gently beginning to unbutton the dress shirt with surprisingly steady hands, avoiding the scarlet bloom on the side of his stomach. You steal glances at Jeonghan, who doesn’t give any notice that you’re technically undressing him, eyes closed and teeth clenched as sweat beads at his forehead. 

You’re quickly shoved aside as you finish, and you join Joshua outside the doorway, chest heaving as he gazes at you in curiosity. 

“You checked him out didn’t you.” It’s not a question, but a statement, and you give him the most disgruntled look you can, but your mind flashes back and you can’t hide the flush. 

“No- I- you don’t know what you’re- he’s dying.” You glare, and Joshua laughs. 

“He’ll be fine. He said so.” 

You can only stare in amazement at his dismissal, but you miss the way his expression fades to solemnity as he walks away. 

You have a feeling no one sleeps that night, with the exception of the one, who once he wakes, calls for you.

Jeonghan offers you a pudding cup, which you take as he devours his own, before posing his question.

“Have you thought at all about my offer from the other day?”

“Well,” you begin slowly, toying with your spoon. “I can’t exactly leave without posing a certain risk. And I don’t have anything going for me outside of here, so… I accept.”

He smiles.

“On one condition though.” You look at him solemnly, gaze piercing his own as he listens.

“When we find Wonwoo, I want to talk to him, before whatever happens.”

He thinks for a moment, before nodding.

“Welcome to the gang.”

It’s not difficult to feel like you belong. 

Ever since you had begun to stay, you had attempted to forge bonds with each member for your own safety, some of them joining you in your television binges, or you joining them in their leisurely activities if you didn’t feel like too much of a nuisance. 

And once you were officially considered a member of the organization, you began to understand why they stayed. 

They were a team, bound by bonds over blood, and while they constantly bickered, it was clear that they were unbreakable except by death, and it was now offered as an extension to you which you took gratefully.

And while you could say you became closer with all of them, there was one you felt you became more distant with.

Dinners became scarce with Jeonghan, as well as almost all interaction with the exception of greetings and meetings on business.

Just as he dismisses you from a meeting, eyes on his paperwork, you suck in your cheeks, bolstering yourself as  you confront him.

“Was all that stuff before just a ploy to get me to join? Or is it that you regret asking me to join?”

He blinks, gaze snapping upwards.

“Of course not.” 

“Then,” you feel extremely childish, as if you were a highschooler dealing with a frustrating crush. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I…” Jeonghan inhales, standing up as he begins to pace the room slowly. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“You told me you weren’t a liar.” 

He flinches, almost imperceptibly, but you see it, honing in like a hawk on its prey. 

“Not consciously.” He amends, eyes meeting yours briefly, and your gaze flickers with confusion. “I just don’t think it’s wise.” 

“Why?” You press, stepping towards him, tilting your head as you search his avoiding gaze for answers. 

It’s quick, the way his lips meet yours as if in a haste, but it’s like a blurted confession, and the position later is slow, like the realization of your happenings.

Your fingertips are light on his cheek, your gaze boring into his, and he finds himself perfectly content in being suspended within your eyes, each breath short and lost to the thrum of his heart.

“That’s why.” He breathes, and you swallow.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Do it again.” 

And so he does.

“You’re in a good mood today, Hannie.” 

Joshua’s voice is sickly sweet, aiming to trap Jeonghan in his sticky honey clutches, but the leader knows his friend all too well, and narrows his eyes.

“Am I?”

“Mhm,” Joshua assents, grinning mischievously as he leans forwards. “And I think I know why.”

“And why is that?”

“Our newest recruit of course.” 

Jeonghan says nothing, bringing his cup up to his lips as Joshua looks like the cat who caught the mouse, enjoying this immensely, while Seungcheol and Jihoon watch amusedly.

“Did you guys fuck?” Jihoon inquires, and Jeonghan chokes on his drink, and that seems to serve enough of an answer to everyone else, who nod knowingly. 

“They totally fucked.” Seungcheol laughs.

“We did not fuck.” Jeonghan argues, clearing his throat as he uses one arm to prop himself up further in his seat uncomfortably. “We just kissed.” 

The exchange of glances around the room proves their disbelief at his statement, and Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

A knock grasps their attention, and they perk up at the sound, eyes honing in on the door swinging open. 

“Hey.” You suddenly feel like being put under a spotlight as you step inside, everyone’s gaze snapping towards you, warily speaking your next sentence. “I just thought we could return to what we were talking about yesterday. I think I have something.”

“Is this some kind of sex codeword?” Joshua murmurs to Jeonghan, who glares. 

“A what?” You blink, and Jeonghan gestures for you to forget it, to which you furrow your eyebrows before shrugging. 

“What did you have in mind?” Jeonghan leans forwards, resting his forearms on his thighs, and Joshua waves his hand expectantly.

“Hello, are we missing something here?”

“I have a plan to get Wonwoo.” You answer, and the room suddenly bleeds into an atmosphere of seriousness, with all eyes and ears upon you.

“Go on.” Jeonghan nods, and you rub your sweaty palms on your pants. 

“It’s simple really…”

As simple as the plot was, things went horribly off course.

You weren’t supposed to be involved, as much as you protested, yet the majority of them agreed, your only role to be the bait as it was from the beginning. The reveal wasn’t a surprise to you, having figured it out within days of staying at the house, yet it stung to still be reduced to that role despite proposing the scheme itself.

The week was spent sending subtle messages in public of where you were and whom you were with, and you had received information from allies that Wonwoo was on the move, seen exactly where you had been planted alone with other members in public briefly.

Yet as the night came, the house was dark and silent, and you were startled by the sound of your door creaking open, heart racing. 

“Hello?” You squint, the only source of light being the moon, and as they step from the shadows the first thing you see is bleached blond hair and the metal glint of a gun. “Wonwoo?”

This was not part of the plan.

“How did you get inside?” You stammer, wondering how he managed to get past the members on defense and whether they were alright, however not having heard any shots fired, your nerves were settled for the time being.

“Let’s go.” He gestures the gun lightly, but the aim is still pointed at you, and you swallow, exiting the room slowly as he trails behind you. Your own weapon is heavy upon your side, your mind racing as to the ways you could reveal it without getting your head blown off. 

“She’s not going anywhere.” 

The cocking of guns is slow, almost drawn out in the hallway, and you’re in the middle of it all. 

“Lower your gun, Wonwoo.” Joshua’s tone is cold, and Wonwoo sneers, not moving his aim.

“You got her to join.” Wonwoo glares at Jeonghan, whose gaze is equally stony.

“It was her choice.”

“What, is this all just some ploy to get back the money I took?”

“It was at first. But you took more than that didn’t you?” 

A flicker of confusion falls over Wonwoo’s face and it’s that moment you tug your pistol from its confines, aiming with a steady hand.

“Do you remember when you gave this to me?” You muse, unmoving as Wonwoo freezes. “You told me to never let anyone take anything from me. And I won’t. Not anymore.”

A gunshot fires, and the air is heavy and thick, for no one breathes until someone drops down in the dim light, and you don’t move towards them, but everyone else does. 

A hand rests tentatively on your shoulder, and it’s warm, the voice paired with it, comforting as you lower your gun, wisps of smoke emanating from the barrel. 

“Are you alright?” Jeonghan inquires, and he thinks your eyes glimmer shinily as you gaze at the body of your brother, but when you meet his gaze, they’re sharp and dry as you reply.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” 

The stone is chilling on your back as you lean against it, tilting your head to the sky as you stretch your neck, before relaxing and falling back down to the blades of grass that swayed gently in the breeze.

“You’ve been coming out here a lot.”

You don’t need to look up to know who it is, able to tell from the sight of shoes in your vision and the voice, but you do anyway, smiling up at Jeonghan, who looks down at you concernedly. 

“It’s quiet out here.”

He settles down beside you, and you grasp his hand lightly, to which he squeezes it in return. 

He didn’t question it, he felt he understood enough; the night you shot that bullet, killing your brother made you carry a weight that had to have shifted something internally. 

“Are you happy here?”

“Not particularly. It is my brother’s tombstone.” You respond drily, and Jeonghan smacks your arm lightly, scoffing a laugh as he shakes his head.

“I mean, working here. Staying here.”

“I don’t know.” You hum. “Are you happy here?”

“I don’t know.” He responds, and you narrow your eyes at him, searching for any sign of derisiveness in his gaze, but you see truth. “I haven’t known anything else my entire life besides this. But, I am happy with you. I know that much.” 

“Could we leave? Is that possible?” 

“Is that…” Jeonghan starts slowly, searching in his mind for possibilities, surprising himself with his own openness to the idea. “Is that something you want?”

“I want to be with you.” You gaze at him, eyes meeting his. “That’s all I want. For as long as possible.”

“Let’s do it then.” 

“Yeah?” You blink, and he nods, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his legs, holding his hand out to you helping heft you upwards to your feet.

“Yeah.” Jeonghan smiles, and you return it. 

“A lifetime with you doesn’t sound too bad.”

☞ taglist: @writeiolite​ @isthistherealifeoristhisafantasy​ @peachy-yabbay​

let me know if you’d like to be added/taken off!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader

[tomholland20]

Chapter 2: A beautiful evening!

Cast:

Peter Parker: Tom Holland.

(Peter's aunt) May Parker: Marisa Tomei.

Y/n: You/ reader

(Y/n’s dad) Tony Stark: Robert Downey, Jr.

(Y/n’s mom) Kathryn Stark: Jennifer Aniston.

(Y/n’s brother) David Stark: Shane Harper.

(Peter's best friend) Ned: Jacob Batalon.

(Peter’s best friend) MJ: Zendeya

Warning: PG-13, bad language, violence, sadness, kissing, etc...

Credit: My best friend Anjali, who helped me with this story!

Before you start reading and you haven’t read this story from the beginning please go and read it from there it will make more sense!

Note: Hey guys, so I wrote this story for Marvel and Tom Holland/Peter Parker fans! I just want to say that this is just a fun story for entertainment purposes. I mixed everything up in this story, their love, action, drama, and more. And as you can see by the cast, I mixed it up. This is a story about Peter Parker and Y/n (your name) story. I hope you like it!! If you want a girl and a Peter Parker version tell me and I will do one........

Summary: You move to a new school where you find yourself falling in love with a guy named Peter Parker and can’t get over him... You and Peter knew each other for 3 years because he had an internship with your dad Tony Stark but you never really talked to him. One day during a scary fire that takes place in the mall. Spider-man (Peter Parker) comes to save you from the deadly fire. Later on in the story, You find out about Peter Parker being spiderman. This story is full of drama, romance, love and more, I hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 2: A beautiful evening!

After 2 weeks of going to school, you and Peter became close. You also became close to MJ Peter's best friend as she was in the same drama play as you. Peter and Ned both forced you to watch Star Wars, which you really liked. Everything was changing, you were finally smiling genuinely and you were getting over your ex. It was like a new beginning for you. People at school liked you, you were smart, good looking, and nice. You were kind of popular as you’re Tony Stark's son.

“Hey, Y/n!” Peter yelled across from the school hallway

“Hey” you replied. “What happened, are you ok?” You asked, Peter looked tired and he was out of breath.

Peter: "Yeah I'm ok, umm do wanna come over today? I have math homework and I was thinking maybe we can do it together?”

Peter was so timid when he started talking to you, even you were shy when he asked you to come over.

Y/n: Yeah sure... w-what time?

Peter: Is 5 good?

Y/n: yeah! Well, 5 it is then!

Peter: Sure! See you... bye.

Y/n: bye…

5:00pm

It was finally 5 pm and you were ready to go to Peter's house. Happy your dad’s assistant dropped you off at Peters place. “Ok, y/n I want you to take care of yourself and be in your best behavior.” You were a little curious as to why Happy had to say that but you agreed with him and went inside. You were in front of Peter's doorstep, you took a deep breath as if you were going on a date with him. You knock on the door and May (Peter’s aunt) opens the door. “Oh let me guess, you must be Y/n! Peter talks a lot about you." “Hi, Mrs. Parker, yes I’m y/n” you give May a big smile and she offers you to come in. “Do you want anything to drink?”

May: ok then, I’ll call Peter

“Peter y/n is here.” Peter runs out of his room and walks right towards the living room where you were. “Wow, are you ok? you look stressed.” “Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry! Wanna get started with math homework?”

Y/n: sure!

Peter brings you to his room. His room was full of Star Wars DVDs, there was a bed and a tv along with his table. Peter takes out his math homework and starts working. While working you notice a bad cut on his hand that he was trying to hide from you. Your eyes opened wide. “Peter, how did you get that cut,” you say in a tensed way. “It’s nothing I promise.” “do you have a first aid box here?” “Y/n don’t worry.”

Y/n: “tell me!”

Peter: “there is one in my bag”

You quickly run towards where his bag was and open it. You look for the first aid kit and as soon as you find it you hurry towards Peter. Without saying anything you open the first aid kit and taking Peter's hands and you start to clean the cut. “Ouch!!.”

“Sorry! Does it hurt?” You ask looking towards him with a worried face. This was new to you caring so much for someone that you cant even control your emotions in front of them, even though you had had a boyfriend this still felt new and you liked this feeling. “A little..” he replies with a little smile, ‘oof someone needs to tell this guy to stop smiling like that, that damn smile is going to be the death of me’ you thought. You smile back at him and keep cleaning the cut, finishing it with a bandage.

Even though you couldn't see, Peter has been busy trying to contemplate this weird feeling, attachment towards. Weirdly enough he liked how you cared about him, made him smile, made all his days feel fun and he even wanted to tell you something but didn’t. After a while both of you were quiet and were done with the homework. May comes running into the room saying “pizza is here!” she hands out your pizza’s. “Oh I have to leave soon.” “It's ok, stay for pizza at least” Peter requests you. You couldn’t resist it so you stayed for 15 more minutes. You and Peter both sat down and started to watch star wars. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get that cut?” Peter stopped chewing on the pizza and looked at you “Uh I was in a rush so I guess my hand cut into something.” He says “You should be more careful next time you know” you tell Peter with a little giggle. You and Peter finish eating and start talking about each other. “Since you moved here I didn’t get to know much about you, so why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” You look at Peter and smile "sure! Well I was born and raised in New York. Umm do I have to continue I’m really bad at this...” you and Peter share a little giggle again. “You’re really nice Y/n, seriously the way you handled my cut I really appreciate it, so thank you.” “No problem” you answered back blushing.

You get a phone call from Happy informing his waiting for you outside. “Oh Happy is here, I got to go. Thanks for having me over Peter!”

Peter: anytime!

You rush to the door saying bye to May and head out *take that bread and that head then leave!! Oky sorry bye*. You get in the car and Happy drives you home. “So how was your evening?”

“It was so romantic.” “What??” You snap out of your dreamy self and Happy is just surprised. “Oh wait no sorry I didn’t mean to say that, I meant it was good.” “You got me worried there.” You roll your eyes as you are tired of hearing people say things like that homophobic asswipes. When you reach home your brother walks out of the house and looks angry. “Hey, David'' you say when your voice fades away. You walk in and you see your parents tensed.

Y/n: Hey guys!

Kathryn: Hey honey.

Y/n: David just walked out, and he looked really angry.

Tony: don’t worry about him, how was your evening with Peter?

Y/n: it was good, we got to finish all of our homework, we ate pizza and watched star wars.

Tony: sounds like you had fun! Didn’t you...

Before you answer your dad’s question David walks back in again ignoring everyone in the dining room.

Y/n: Ok what’s wrong?

Mom: Sweetie, there's nothing to worry about. I promise you nothing happened. He's just a little moody.

Your dad cracks a joke saying “girlfriend problems” with a laugh, you also laugh since your brother was not the best boyfriend. *like who are kidding he’s so annoying how does his girlfriend even handle him? aight bye* Your mom looks at you and Tony.

Tony: What? it's true...

Kathryn: Don’t worry about any of these things right now. Tomorrow is a big day, there will be a new girl coming to school. She is your Dad’s Friend's daughter. So I want you to show her around the school along with Peter.

“Yeah I can do that” you reply fast as soon as you hear Peter’s name. “Aww honey thank you” she looks at you in a curious way. “You look really into Peter I can see, are you gay for him?” Your dad asks. “NOO” you say really fast. “I just want to make new friends, that's all” your dad looks at you and with his glasses by his nose. “I’m kind of tired so why don’t I go to bed now.” “Sure sweetie, good night!” “Good night mom, good night dad!”

Tony: good night!

You go to bed not being able to forget about your beautiful evening with Peter and you want the night to pass by fast so you can meet Peter again. You were really in love with him *only if that asshole knew jeez like can he just propose to me and get done with this shit? Babe I'm waiting? You here?*.

Note: Hey guys!! Sorry it took us so long to post this chapter. School and all has been stressful so we are sorry to keep you guys waiting. This chapter is soo cute honestly. I hope you liked it. Chapter 3 is on the way maybe we will be done by next Friday and then I will post it! But there is a lot to come in Y/n’s and Peters life. Do you think Peter is in love with you? What is he hiding from you? To find out read the story love in the air!

#peter parker x male reader #tom holland #tom holland x male reader #bxblove #the avengers #tony stark #high school drama #lgbtq #cute story #tom holland fandom

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 23 - Free

Summary: George and Fred welcomes you home for the summer, but when you return to your house with the twins something horrifying is waiting for you

Warnings: Death

Word count: 3.3K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

Great anticipation took over you as you walked back to the muggle word at King’s Cross station. You haven’t seen George in ages. Even if the crystal had been glowing on your neck from time to time, the last couple of weeks were just horrible without him. To be honest, you missed Fred, too. You missed them both so much.

Ginny pointed and a sudden wave caught your eye a bit further away. You grinned like a maniac and fastened your steps, pulling your trunk behind you. When you were just a few meters away you broke into a run and soon abandoned your trunk completely to jump into George’s welcoming arms.

“I can’t believe I��m finally here!” you shrieked happily as he lifted you from your feet and spun you around.

“How was the journey?” he said, putting you down and kissing you on the cheek.

“Long,” you said. “Hey, Fred.”

You let go of George and hugged his twin, who looked just as happy to see you.

“Y/N, how’s everything?”

“Great. Why… Why are all these people there?”

“We were just having a word with Harry’s aunt and uncle,” said Mrs Weasley as she hugged you as well. Mr Weasley smiled at your from next to his wife.

“Y/N, always good to see you.”

“You too, Mr Weasley.”

“All right, Fred, George, don’t forget next Sunday, we’re expecting you for dinner.”

“Sure, mum,” said Fred, ready to leave. “Y/N, you fancy a coffee?”

“Of course,” you said. “But I thought…”

“Come now, we’ll explain everything,” said George, taking your trunk from your hand. “Bye mum!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Careful boys… and don’t forget Sunday!”

“Sure!” shouted back Fred, making a few muggles jump and turn towards him in suprise. Then he grinned at you and winked.

You hugged Ginny, waved goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley and hurried after the twins. George casually put an arm around your shoulder while Fred lead the three of you towards an exit on the left.

“So where are we going?” you asked suspiciously when you stepped into the night.

“For a coffee,” said Fred, grinning. You raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee? At night?”

“Sure, why not?” asked George with a cheeky smile.

The three of you headed down the street, away from the loud cars on the main road. Your trunk rattled extremely loudly on the empty streets. You had to be quick to keep up with the twins’ long steps.

“Sure, a coffee…” you said, continuing the conversation. “But I still need to get home in time you know.”

“Home?” said Fred, frowning. “I tought you didn’t wanna go back.”

“No, but…”

“You’re going back, after what happened last time?” said George quietly.

“I need to. If I want to move out properly I want my clothes… my stuff. I want to pack. I want to sell everything I can, and I also need to sleep somewhere until I find a place to live.”

Fred and George exchanged looks, smirking.

“Well, well, would you look at that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Let’s go in here,” said George suddenly, opening a door to a very old, very empty café. You sighed.

“One coffee?”

“One coffee,” they said reassuringly.

After managing to fit your trunk through the door, you sat down to the closest table next to the window. George sat next to you, and Fred opposite, ordering three coffees from the waitress who came to your table within seconds of your arrival. You were drumming with your fingers on the table, looking out at the dark street through the wet windows.

Even if you had no feelings left towards your parents, even if they meant nothing to you after the incident last summer, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Why wouldn’t you be nervous? It wasn’t a nice, idillic thing you were about to do… Facing them was always a great difficulty… but how will they react tonight when you appear on their doorstep, asking for one last week to stay?

These thoughts were giving you anxiety. You shivered.

“Are you cold?” asked George, putting an arm around you.

“A little,” you lied.

“So,” said Fred, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get down to business, I say!”

“Business?” you asked, more suspicious by the second. You chuckled. “What do you want from me, Fred?”

“Wait a minute,” said George, placing his hand on top of yours on the table. “First of all — How was the apparition exam, love?”

“Oh… Oh! I completely forgot about that!” it was true. There was just so many things happening in the last couple of weeks. “Yes, yes, I passed! It wasn’t that hard, really. Only two people failed, a Ravenclaw boy and a Slytherin girl who lied about her age and tried to do the test early. Shame they caught her, it was a clever move.”

“So, you have your license and everything?” asked Fred.

“Absolutely,” you said. George kissed you on the cheek proudly. Fred rolled his eyes.

“Can we have a conversation without you bothering her?” he said to George in mock offence. George grinned.

“Shut up, Fred.”

“Anyway,” continued Fred, looking at you, “did Ginny tell you what happened to Sirius?”

“Yeah…” you said, sadness in your heart. “I guess the Order told you?”

“They did,” nodded George. “And the paper was all about You-Know-You as well. After his appearance at the Ministry…”

“Which reminds me of our conversation,” interrupted Fred. “Y/N, you know we care about you dearly, right?”

You snorted.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve figured that out by now.”

“Great. So you know that now that the big evil guy is back…” started Fred.

“We cannot let you run around on your own…” continued George.

“— which is why we’ve decided —”

“— to move you in to our place.”

You looked at them, confused. They were surely joking.

“What?”

“How about that, eh? Move in with us for the summer, you can go back to Hogwarts the next term, come home for the holidays, anything you want.”

“But… What?”

The waitress appeared out of nowhere and placed three coffees on the table, then left. You were staring at yours and grabbed it rather hastily, drinking half the cup at once. You only spoke again when you finally put the cup back down onto the table with a soft clink.

“Are you… taking the piss right now?”

George chuckled and Fred shook his head with a laugh.

“That wouldn’t be nice, would it, eh?”

“I guess…” you said slowly. “But… move in… with you?”

“Of course!”

“W — why?”

Fred snorted.

“Is that a question? Look at my brother.”

You turned and just saw George admiringly gazing at you before he rearranged his face to be a bit more casual. His ears turned red, you chuckled and Fred continued.

“And, you know about me, I love having you with us… sis, ” he finished with another wink. You gave him a weak smile but were still uncertain.

“Are you telling me you have a house somewhere?”

“It’s more like a flat,” shrugged George. “Not too big but should be enough for the three of us.”

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley, of course!” he said, beaming.

“Just above the shop,” said Fred.

“So, what d’you say?” said George. You were eyeing your coffee.

“Yeah, I don’t know…”

“Why? said George. “What’s stopping you?”

“I just… I really don’t wanna live with you like some kind of… refugee.”

“We’re not fancying the idea of you going back home, either,” said Fred sternly.

“But… I’d leave after a week anyway… Find some place on my own…”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to live with us?”

“I… Still, I’d have to pay you for letting me do that!”

Fred and George locked eyes knowingly.

“We knew you’d said that,” said George, hiding his smile behind his cup and taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, and we’ve decided that you’d never give in. So, if you want, you can help out in the shop. That’s fun work, we’re having a laugh, everyone’s happy, end of story.”

You were staring at the two of them, the idea growing in your mind like a seed after being planted. First you thought it was ridiculous… How could you live there… But as the seconds passed, you had to admit… you liked the idea more and more.

“Even if I said yes,” you started and raised your voice immediately when Fred and George grinned happily. “I said ‘if’. I’d still need to go home, to pack at least. All I have with me are my Hogwarts robes.”

“That’s manageable,” said George.

“You think?” you said.

“Oh, everything’s manageable for my brother if it’s about you,” said Fred, teasing. George shot a sharp look at him.

“Come off it.”

You chuckled.

“All right… Then yes.”

George jerked his head back to you.

“Yes, as in…?”

“Yes, I move in with you.”

“Ha!”

George exclaimed with joy and immediately pressed his soft lips on yours. You smiled into the kiss. Fred drank his coffee pompously.

“Oh, young lovers… Maybe I’m regretting this already.”

“Shut up, Fred,” said George again, grinning.

“So, how’s it gonna go down?” you asked, holding back your excitement without much success. Fred shrugged.

“Let’s say we go there, you pack and we leave.”

“All right. When?”

“When you finish your coffee,” said Fred conversationally while looking at his watch. You nodded nervously.

“That’s all right. But I wanna be quick. I don’t want to spend more time there than is necessarry.”

“Don’t worry love,” said George with an evil grin. “We can keep your parents company while you pack.”

“Mm, maybe I should stun them while I pack…” you muttered under your breath, wondering. George snorted.

When you all finished your coffee, the twins transported your clothes to their flat so you’d have an empty trunk to pack into. Then Fred took your luggage, George took your hand and you apparated to your family home.

The house in which you grew up in stood just outside of London but still pretty close to the city. After a ten minute drive you’d reach a nice little forest and a narrow road that lead straight into a village. At the further end of the village stood the church, higher than all buildings. You lived close to the curch: just on the other side of the treeline; from the living room window you could always see the tower with the cross.

After apparating next to the church a sudden lurch of your stomach made you stumble. You felt nervous, slightly sick, and — you didn’t want to admit it, but — also scared. Last time you had been here your mother had hit you, and the memory was suddenly more painful as you were standing here, returning to the village. For the second time tonight you shuddered, but not from the cold.

“All you all right?” asked George. His low voice seemed like shouting in the quiet night.

“Yeah,” you said, not very convincingly.

“We don’t have to go in there,” he said.

“I know. Let’s go.”

You started walking, noticing that Fred was checking his wand in his pocket. You did the same. Being seventeen, you could do magic outside school now, but you were not sure wether you wanted to or not.

“Why is it so quiet?” asked George as you turned onto the dirt road between the trees.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I don’t think there’s much of a nightlife around here.”

“Let’s hurry up,” said Fred, letting you go in front of him at the turn. Just a few steps and you would be able to see your house.

“I agree. I hope they’re asleep. Would be nice to just —”

The sentence died in your throat and you stopped in your tracks. You looked at the house, the first second wondering why was the door open in the middle of the night…? Then your glance fell on the walls and you didn’t understand why did they have a weird, strange green light on them… Then you automatically raised your head higher and higher, your eyes searching the sky above the roof… And then you saw it. Floating in the air, a skull, with a snake moving out of its mouth. The… the…

“Oh, my God,” you whispered, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

“Y/N, wait!” George held onto your arm, wand in hand. His voice was tense and shaky. “Fred, bring dad. Now.”

“I don’t wanna leave y —”

“Go!”

“Don’t go in there…”

“We’re not, we’re walking back — Y/N, come on!”

Fred disapparted. You felt a strong hand on your arm, pulling you away, but you couldn’t move. You were staring at the Dark Mark, You-Know-Who’s mark floating above the house… your house. Your parents’ house! If it was still there that meant it had happened not a long time ago… If you hadn’t gone for that coffee…

You pulled away from George and walked steadily towards the house, wand in hand, mind clear. George ran after you, grabbing you desperately.

“No, Y/N, you can’t go in there.”

“I wanna see,” you said, but it was as though someone else was using your voice.

“No, that’s not a good idea, dad’ll be here soon, come, we need to leave — Y/N!”

You broke free and ran into the house through the open front door.

The kitchen was a mess. Broken plates, slivered shelves and cupboards… Silverware lying all over the floor, the tap torn from the fall, water leaking. You ran into the dining room, garbage and broken glass crunching under your shoes. In there, everything looked similar to the kitchen; the table split in half, pictures and photographs lying on the floor around the broken glass chandelier. The piano was thrown against the wall, its legs lying next to the door. You looked towards the living room and saw a foot on the floor.

“Y/N!” George reached the house as well and was now standing behind you. He gasped as he saw the leg of your father on the floor in the next room. He spoke hoarsly, pleading. “Don’t… don’t go.”

But you had already went. You stepped over the threshold, your eyes fixed on the dead body of your father… the dead body of the man who made your life a living hell for so many years. He was lying on his stomach, arms in weird angles, eyes glass-like, staring into nothing. In his hands he was holding a pamphlet.

Turning your head you saw your mother, too. She was fallen over an armchair, legs in the air, lying on her back. Eyes just as empty as your father’s. In her hand she was also holding a pamphlet, and now that you looked around you saw many many purple pamphlets all over the floor. You reached for one and read the title.

‘Witches are among us. We have to fight them together!’

Below that was a picture of a green skinned witch, riding a broom. To the broom a net was tied, in the net several babies and children were carried, all crying. The line read:

‘Don’t let them steal your children! We have to end their sin once and for all!’

And on the very bottom of the page you saw your parents’ names and address, encouriging anyone to come to them with trust. You felt nauseous.

“Y/N!” George stood next to you, his face paler as ever. You showed him the pamphlet with shaking hands.

“They wanted to fight us…” you said quietly. “They wanted a witch hunt… they recruited members… Death Eaters probably heard about it… Showed them some real magic…”

“GEORGE!” Mr Weasley appeared in the door with Fred. He seemed extremely disturbed. He hurried to his son and hugged him tight. “George, I told you never to go into a house that — Y/N! I… Merlin!”

He saw the bodies on the floor and stumbled. Fred was looking sick, staring at the pamphlets queasily. Mr Weasley’s voice was shaking.

“Kids… Out. Yes, go out, the Ministry is … George! Fred! Go out. All of you.”

The boys turned but you didn’t move. Mr Weasley stepped closer, his face frightened.

“Y/N… go — go with them. Please. This is not…”

“Come — Come, please!”

You felt someone pulling your arm and you started walking, glass and dried flowers crunching under your shoes on the way out as well. But this time, you didn’t see the house; you didn’t see anything at all. All that was floating in your mind was the violent purple color and the empty eyes of your parents.

You didn’t know how you felt. Shocked? Of course. Sad? You weren’t sure. They were your parents after all… But nothing more than that, really. Did they mean something to you after years and years of neglect? You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything.

A bunch of ministry workers ran past you, stepping into the house, heading towards the living room. You let them pass, stopping at the threshold. George was still pulling you by the arm, and when the ministry workers started shouting and giving orders from the living room, he lead you out into the night.

It was now completely dark outside. The absence of the green light was explained as you looked above the house and saw that the Dark Mark was already gone. As you breathed in the fresh night air, your mind seemed to clear a bit. Now you were able to think. Weirdly, the first thing you realized was that you were quite hungry.

“Come, come over here.”

A bench appeared not far from the house; how, you didn’t know. It was not there before. You sat down, George on one side, Fred on the other. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you wanted to say anything at all.

“Y/N?” said George while placing a lock of hair behind your ears. “Y/N, I’m so —”

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice surprisingly normal. “I’m good.”

You knew the twins exchanged looks, cause they didn’t answer for at least five seconds.

“Y/N…” started Fred. “You sure, that —”

“Yeah,” you nodded, staring at the ground but thinking clearly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Baby, I —”

“They didn’t love me after all,” you said. “I thought maybe… they were just angry and desperate… But turns out the moment they realised what I was, everything they had ever felt was gone. Remember what my mum said?”

“I…”

“She said they were no longer parents. And that I stopped existing to them the moment I embraced my… abnormality.”

You looked at the pamphlet that you were still holding. You felt disgusted.

“They wanted to punish not just me but everyone who’s like us. How could anyone hate their own child this much?”

Neither of the twins answered. You clenched your jaw.

“They were not my parents. They got what they deserved.”

You crumpled the pamphlet and threw it aside. You didn’t care what the twins thought. In this moment you didn’t care less. You looked at the house in which ministry officials were running up and down, and a tiny flicker of relief came over you. Those two lying inside were people who had always told you that you were abnormal. That you were less of a human being just because you were a witch. That you were violent and fearsome. They were people who didn’t realize that with some kindness they could’ve achieved more. They were people who were excrutiatingly evil to you.

And now those people were dead. And you were free.

And on the night your parents died, a small, tortured smile appeared on your lips.

#harry potter #george weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagination #imagine george weasley #george weasley imagination #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #georgeweasley #george weasley #fredweasley #fred weasley #fred and george #fred and george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagination #gred and forge #weasley twins #hermione #ginny #ron #ron weasley #weasley #weasley family #hogwarts #hogsmeade #kingscross #hp

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 7

Here it is!

“Hello…? Yeah, Dad, we’re here. Yeah, everything’s fine. No, no, we’re at Uncle Phil’s… Mum? Yeah, she’s alright. She’s talking to him right now so I thought I might just call and tell you we’re here, for you not to worry too much… Yeah, I can put her on the phone, hold on… Mum? Dad wants you on the phone!”

“Tell him I’m coming!” Caroline looked at her brother. “Hold on Phil, Mike’s going to worry otherwise.” 

“Go ahead, Carrie.”

The sixty-odd year old woman rose from the sofa and went to the telephone, leaving her brother on his sofa. 

"Thanks, Micky, go with your Uncle, I'll be a minute." She gently tapped her son's arm and the tall man nodded.

He went to his uncle and sat on the armchair next to the sofa. The Aussie put his hat and his aviators on the coffee table.

"So, Micky, how're you? How was the flight and all? Oh by the way, here… Your mum's poured you a cup of tea while you were on the phone…”

“Oh, thanks…” Mundy took the cup that his uncle was handing him and nodded in thanks. Micky was the nickname that his family used with him. “Flight’s been bloody long. America’s so far from home and New Mexico’s not on the East coast either so, eh... I slept for most of it but Mum was a bit restless.”

“Ah, I’m not surprised. I know your Mum, she’s always been active and energetic like that.” Phil chuckled. “But all went well on your way here?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” Mundy took a sip of his tea. “Had to drive to the airport for a few hours first. Dropped the van to be delivered here soon hopefully, and then we took the plane with Mum.”

“I see. And what're you doin' now? Still hunting?" Philip drank his tea and offered some biscuits to his nephew.

"Ah, thanks. And uh, yeah, same old." Mundy smiled. "I still hunt."

"Dad still angry about it?" 

"Not really angry. He's more than used to it by now. But he'd rather I just helped in the farm, for sure." 

"Ah, can't blame him. Guns are dangerous, eh."

They nodded and both took a sip of their tea. 

"You make tea exactly like Mum." Mundy chuckled.

"Bah, y'know your mum, she didn't let me do it! She made that herself… Gosh, Caroline! I told her, you took the car for hours and then the plane for hours, you must be dead tired. But y'know how you can't reason with your mum, eh?"

"Yeah, I do…" Mundy smiled.

"So what's new back home?"

"Bah, not much… Mum and Dad are still lookin' after the chickens and geese. I help in between contracts. But you, Uncle Phil? You got injured? Mum told me it was at work…?" 

Philip nodded. 

"Yeah, y'know, bein' a policeman here ain't always easy."

"What happened?"

"Got beaten up by a group of thugs."

"Mum said something about gunshots." 

"Yeah, it was two gangs goin' at each other. Young folks, really. Such a shame to see kids like this these days. But yeah, there were a few gunshots and one caught my leg."

"Oh wow…" Mundy nodded. "When did that happen?" 

"About a few weeks ago now…? Yeah, a couple of weeks ago." 

"And you still walk with a cane and a limp, eh?" Mundy asked, nodding at the cane resting against the side of the couch. 

"Yeah…" Philip frowned and scratched his bushy moustache. "Goin' through therapy, but y'know, I ain't young anymore so it'll take a long time before it'll go back to normal."

"That what the doctors said?" 

"Yeah." Philip nodded. "They said I might even retire before it's complete history." 

"Oh, bugger… Can you work again at least or…?" 

"Well, I'll only do desk stuff but no field work." Philip seemed saddened by it. 

"Ah, I'm sorry, Uncle Phil…" Mundy scratched his short, brown hair.

"Bah, I was due to retire in a few months, so it doesn't change much. Just means I can take it easy a few months in advance." 

"But you really liked your job, right?" Mundy asked. 

"Oh yeah, as much as you yours." 

They smiled and nodded at each other. Caroline came back and sat next to her brother on the sofa. 

"Alright, Mike's alright. I told him about the van." She said, looking at her son, Mundy. 

"What's wrong with it?" Philip asked. 

"They said it's gonna arrive in a week or so." Caroline answered. "They’re having delays for some reason."

"You're welcome to use my car whenever you need, eh." Philip offered. “You didn’t need to get Mike’s van over the ocean.”

"Oh, thanks, Phil'. It'll come in handy, I'm sure. And it’s Micky’s van now." She chuckled and was interrupted by Philip's dog coming to lay on Mundy's lap. 

"Marty, get off of Micky's lap, you big boy…!" 

Marty was a German shepherd. He was Philip's life companion for the past decade now. 

"He's fine, Uncle Phil, let him do… Yeah, good boy…!" Mundy was spoiling the dog with pets and scratches. The canine went to fetch a toy and brought it to the Aussie. 

"You can take him to the backyard and play there with him if you want, Micky." 

"Oh, for sure, c'mon, let's go, big boy…!" Mundy collected his hat and aviators from the coffee table before he exited the living-room through the French window, closely followed by the dog. 

That left Caroline and Philip chatting together. 

"Micky's told me Mike still doesn't like his huntin', eh?" Philip asked and his sister nodded. 

“To be honest, we never agreed to it or liked the idea. It’s dangerous. I mean, you’re livin’ proof that carryin’ a gun can get you at the wrong end of another one.”

“Yeah, but he’s not huntin’ people, is he? They're just beasts.”

“Beasts that could rip your leg off better than that bullet you took, Phil’.” Caroline sipped on her tea. “Nah, we’ve tried to get him interested in anything else. We got him to play in a pub.”

“Play?” Phil repeated.

“The sax. He’s quite decent.” Caroline explained and pushed her pink glasses back up her nose. 

“But?” Phil anticipated.

“But he likes to do it on the side… He really likes huntin’ and he’s the best at it. He’s now got a reputation. Sometimes, he says he has work, takes the van and drives off for days. We don’t know where he goes, what he does, but he comes back with heaps of money…!”

“You don’t think he’s doin’ anything dodgy, is he?” Phil asked, his policeman instincts kicking in.

“I don’t know. We’ve asked him countless times and he always says that it’s the price for capturing rare game but…” Caroline shook her head. “I can’t help but think there’s more to it. Once, the police came along with some men who didn’t look like regular police. They took him away to have a chat. In the end, he told us he landed a contract that paid generously, and oh boy it did! We redid part of the house with that money…! But what the job was exactly, he couldn’t tell us. He said the police asked him to be quiet about it.”

“Well if it’s the police askin’ and he’s free, that means he helped them, he wasn’t against them, so I wouldn’t worry.”

“I can’t help it…” Caroline raised her eyes and saw Mundy play with the dog through the French window.

"Hey, Carrie, the boy's a grown up man now. And if the police comes for him to work, that means he's real good… How old is he now?"

"Almost forty."

"And still livin' with you and Mike?" 

"Nah, yeah…" 

"He doesn't wanna go?" Phil asked. 

"I don't know. We never really discussed it."

“D’you think he does the huntin' work only for the money? If he earns a lot of it, he might just continue it for the cash.” Phil asked.

“Yeah, nah.” Caroline shook her head. “It's not for the money. He takes a lot of work for free…"

"For free? Hell…" Phil chuckled. "And what about, y'know, findin' a good woman and all?" 

"Oh God, if only I knew what was goin' on with him…" Caroline shook her head. "He never brings anyone home and he never talks about these things. Even with his dad. He's never, y'know, just checked a sheila out or let his eyes linger. It's like he doesn't feel a thing for them."

"I can ask. Maybe he can't talk to y'all about it but is happy to open up to someone else?"

"Maybe."

There was a pause. 

"He doesn't seem too unhappy about it all, eh?" Phil nodded to Mundy who was playing fetch with Marty. 

"Nah, he doesn't but… We'd love to see him bring someone home, y'know. I wonder if he does have someone but just hides it."

"Why would he do that?" 

"I don't know. Last time he talked about a pretty sheila, he was back in primary school. Since then, it's been different." 

"Hm." Phil finished his tea. "And what about Mike? How's he? You left him alone to come and see me?"

Caroline shook her head.

"Yeah, nah, he’s got his brother over and it’s rugby season. I just have to call them to stay away from havin’ barbies everyday.” She chuckled. 

“Oh I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.” Phil joined her chuckles. 

“Yeah, as long as I call him enough…!”

“I’m happy you could visit, Carrie.”

Brother and sister exchanged smiles. 

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Micky was much younger. He’s a man and a half now. And not bad-lookin’ at all!” Phil added.

“Yeah, he’s a fine bloke. And you need someone to help with that leg of yours… You should have called and told me right when it happened! Why wait a few weeks?”

“Yeah, like I’d stop middle of the shootin’ to go to the nearest phone, call in Oz’ and tell you about it…!” Phil joked and chuckled.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Phil..!”

“I know, I know, just jokin’. But I just didn’t want to scare y’all. You’re far from me and if I’d called you and said ‘oh hey, Carrie, I just got shot but everythin’s fine’, you'd have jumped in the first plane with your old age and your even older Mike to come and see me…!”

“Oi, you’re older than me and Mike’s your age!” She answered with a laugh. “Besides, here I am anyway with Micky.”

“Yeah, thanks for visitin’, really. I’m sure you’ll help a lot.”

“Of course I will…!”

“But yeah, you convinced Micky to come and Mike to stay?” Phil asked, his tone coming back to being a bit more serious.

“To be honest…” Caroline cast a glance over to Mundy. He was busy and far in the backyard, beyond the French window. In a word, he was out of earshot. “We had to kind of push him.”

“Push him to do what?”

“To come with me.” Caroline explained. 

“He wanted to stay with his Dad?”

“Yeah, nah, he just… He didn’t wanna stay with his Dad per se, but he likes to stick to the van. He practically lives there, you know, when he disappears off.”

“Ah, I see.” Phil nodded. “But don’t worry, Carrie. I’d be proud if I were you.”

“What? Why?” She raised a curious eyebrow.

“If the police come to him for help, he’s really good.” The old man poured more tea for his sister and himself. “We don’t get other folks to do our job, and if we ever do, we’re either forced to, or they’re so good that it hurts for us to admit it. Micky might be both.”

Caroline nodded but bobbed her head left and right.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Why force him to come?”

“I’m old, Phil, and I don’t like travellin’ that much.”

“Neither does he, from what you’re tellin’ me.”

“Yeah but... “

“Carrie?”

Caroline raised her eyes to her elder brother.

“I know you’re hidin’ somethin’. Tell me.”

She bit her lip and looked through the window again. Mundy was still absorbed in whatever he was doing with the dog.

“I’m a bit worried. I think he… He might be happy at work but…”

“But what?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know…!”

-- A few days later --

“Here, let me help…”

“Nah, it’s alright, Micky.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! Look, I just need to put the cane first, then this leg and - oof!- this one…! Ah, thanks, son.”

  Mundy helped his uncle get in the car anyway. 

“Alright, you’ll have to guide me, Uncle Phil.” The younger man hopped in the car.

“Yeah, it’s not too far. Let’s get to the café that I like and you’ll tell me what you think of their coffee, yeah?”

“Mum’s not comin’?” Mundy asked.

“Nah, she wants some quiet time without boys ruinin’ her cleanin’ the house. I got told off this mornin’ cause the house wasn’t clean enough for her standards!” 

“Sounds like Mum alright.” Both chuckled and Mundy adjusted the mirrors and the driver’s seat, fastening his seatbelt.

“Alright, let’s go, son.”

The drive was quiet. Phil told his nephew about the neighbourhood and how it had changed over the years, on the few occasions that they stopped at a red light. 

“Where can we park?”

“Behind the thing, take it left here… And there.”

Mundy parked and went around to help his uncle out. 

“The place looks nice and cosy, eh?” The young man said.

“Yeah, that’s why I like it.” Philip answered and they made their way in. “Here, that’s my table.”

The gentle smell of coffee wrapped them up as Mundy discovered the decor. Cosy was the right word for it. It practically looked like a living-room with the sofas and fireplace, the coffee table and magazines. The rest of the room had the classic restaurant/café layout with tables and chairs but that living-room corner looked very comfortable indeed. The walls were wooden and the beams of dark wood in the ceiling were clearly quite old. It reinforced the overall rustic yet familiar atmosphere.

“Oh hey, Phil!” The café owner greeted him.

“Hey Bob, how are ya?”

“Alright. Who’s this friend with you?” Bob asked as he made his way to Philip and his younger nephew. He was a big man in his late fifties for sure. Salt and pepper hair with more salt than pepper already and big square glasses on a nose that went with the proportions of the large man. Bob wore an apron with the colors and logo of the café and threw the tea towel he was holding on his shoulder.

“That here's my nephew, Micky. He’s come with his Mum to help out, while my bad leg heals up.”

“Oh, brilliant! Where are you guys from?” Bob looked at Mundy who took a seat opposite his uncle. He removed his hat but kept the aviators on. 

“From Australia.”

“That’s quite the trip, eh?”

“Yeah.” Mundy smiled.

“Alrighty then, I’ll let you make up your mind. Coffee’s on me, Phil. No, no, don’t even try to argue!” 

The three men exchanged a chuckle.

“Alright, Bobby, can you give us your classic. Make it two, I want the kid here to try it. Careful, he knows his way around coffees, eh?” Philip answered. 

“Sure thing! Two of Phil’s usual, on their way…!” Bob left Phil and his nephew in peace.

“So, how d’you find America so far, Micky?”

“Not so different from home. You just drive on the right, which confused me a bit but now I think I’m getting used to it.”

“Here, two classics. Enjoy, folks!” Bob put the two cups on the table and added a packet of chocolate for each before leaving them. 

Mundy and Phil were sitting in a corner of the café, next to the window. 

“Go ahead, son, and tell me.”

Mundy took a careful sip and let it invade his mouth, cover his palate and hug his tongue warmly. It was the beginning of October now and the weather was colder than in his native Australia, so the hot coffee was very welcome. 

“Mh… I like it.”

“Yeah?” Phil insisted.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s not too strong or bitter. It’s well balanced without being fruity or too sweet.”

“Gosh, listen to you talk,...!” Phil laughed. “You sound like one of those so called experts they bring on TV or somethin’, heh.”

“I’m just used to drinkin’ loads of coffee.” Mundy explained.

“Drink it when you work?”

“Yeah, all the time.” Mundy nodded and smiled. “I really like it.”

“Even when you’re in the desert, scorchin’ sun and all?” Phil asked.

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” Mundy answered. “It’s really good to drink something hot when it's hot. Helps you sweat and regulate your body temperature. They do that in the Sahara, only with tea and not coffee.”

“Right, right, I didn’t know that, but now that you say it, it kinda makes sense. So talkin’ about your work, tell me what it’s like.”

“What?” Mundy chuckled.

“You a hunter, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So tell me how and what you hunt, son!”

“Oh, uh, you sure?” Mundy asked, raising a surprised eyebrow.

“O’course! Why d’you sound shocked?”

“Cause Mum and Dad don’t really like what I’m doin’ so I don’t really uh… I’m not used to talkin’ about it, is all.” Mundy lowered his head, as if ashamed.

“Yeah and I understand your folks but I’m not them. Besides, I’m a policeman. I’m sure your Mum doesn’t like my job either for the same reason she’s not fond of yours.”

“Fair, yeah.” Mundy nodded, raising his head back for his eyes to meet with his uncle’s.

“So, go ahead! Tell me everythin’!”

Seeing his uncle’s enthusiasm made him blush for an instant. Mundy felt put on the spot. He looked around them and the other customers in the café didn’t pay the last bit of attention to them. He smiled and took a bit of air before starting.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

[ve1vetyoongi]

Mic Drop | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

au: rapper!yoongi, photographer!oc

summary: when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting.

warnings: multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), lots of orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, cum play, cum eating, but also tender fucking lol, very brief mention of death.

word count: 29k (rip)

rating: definitely explicit

playlist: visit my playlist page and select “mic drop.” (all links to be added later)

a/n: ahhh you don’t understand how happy i am to finally put this out into the world!!! i started writing this fic back in july and after a few rewrites (more on this at the end of the post if anyone sticks around until then) she’s finally finished eee <3 also!!! this fic is brought to you courtesy of the love yourself collab! this project has been super fun to be a part of n i wanna say thank you to everyone involved who made it such a welcoming experience! you can check out the masterlist here (link will be added later f u tumblr) to read all the other amazing fics from the incredibly talented authors in this project (literally so talented??? it’s sickening???) (im so excited to finally read them all now im done w this monster lol). all the love as always <3

Introducing Runch Randa!

The host is barely audible over the chants of your brother's name as the lights dim and the arena is sent into a haze of strobe lights.

The air is already heady with body heat and fragrant with sweat from the thousands of bodies smushed together in the pit and beyond that thousands more seated in the stands, phone lights twinkling in the darkened arena like stars. A girl in your peripheral clutches a sign with MARRY ME RUNCH RANDA scrawled in sharpie, torso clad in one of the cheap merch hoodies with your brother's face printed on the front, just like hundreds of others around her.

It's a full house. No one's surprised. The Mic Drop semi-final always creates a buzz of anticipation within the hip hop scene. But this year, with your brother Namjoon returning to compete for the trophy again, there isn't an empty seat in sight.

A buzz pulses through the crowd when the bass kicks in. It makes hearts beat faster, blood run hotter, a crescendo of screams crashing violently through room, the sheer volume enough to make the walls shake in time with the stamp of impatient feet.

It's infectious. Almost. If you hadn't been here a hundred times before, countless nights the same as this one that all started to blur into one somewhere along the line. Different crowds but the same energy, the same hum of anticipation that used to get your bones rattling, your skin hot with suspense. Now it's just routine. Now you feel nothing.

Besides, you're just here to do your job. The photographer. To take pictures, not to enjoy the show. Just like always.

Five seconds. You know Namjoon's set list like the back of your hand by now. Five seconds until he takes the stage and the crowd goes wild.

One, two, three, four...

Like clockwork, the stage lights up and there he is, face blown up in painful detail across every screen. Runch Randa. His stage name pulses through the room, a mantra, chanted until throats turn sore and mouths run dry.

Dark framed glasses cover his eyes but his stance is enough to tell you that he came here to win, his presence immediately filling the empty stage with an energy that makes it impossible to look anywhere else, even for a moment.

He is already damp with sweat, neck glistening beneath the white lights. Like routine you snap a few shots when he taunts the camera with a smirk, brushing a hand through his immaculately gelled hair teasingly, mouth turning up into a grin when the audience roars.

Runch Randa walks across the stage with the ease of someone who lives and breathes for moments like these. Grabs the microphone with two hands, shiny silver rings glinting on his fingers beneath the harsh strobe lights.

You can see his opponents in the front row, nothing but rookies, the intimidation etched into their features visible even from where you stand side stage as they swallow the bitter pill that they stand no chance against him.

Once upon a time you were the same as the wide eyed fans in the pit, filled with an admiration for your brother. He was everything you wanted to be; a whirlwind of fearless, brazen passion when he got up on stage. But things changed once Namjoon won Mic Drop, claiming the trophy at the tender age of seventeen. After that he started filling arenas. Then stadiums. And you were left behind in the ruins of his whirlwind, feeling the Namjoon you once knew slip further away as Runch Randa took center stage, viewing his perfect persona through the lens of your camera with the same sour resentment as the rookies.

Because when a familiar beat permeates the arena, you can't help but close your eyes and imagine the name the crowd screams is yours. That it's you out there instead of him. It's you pouring your heart into the lyrics that you find yourself whispering unconsciously in time with your brother.

Your lyrics.

The lyrics you wrote especially for this performance. The same lyrics that would be streamed by millions, top charts and win Namjoon another stupid trophy to add to his already elaborate collection.

The only reason Namjoon still kept you around was because he couldn't write them himself.

The track ends and the Mic Drop host crosses the stage with a grin. Namjoon's arm is thrust into the air triumphantly.

"And our first finalist is...Runch Randa!"

You snap a picture of your brother smiling victoriously.

"He's gonna win. I know it."

Namjoon's manager Jimin sidles up beside you, grin plastered to his face. It's nauseating.

"Does he ever lose?" You murmur

Runch Randa! Runch Randa! Runch Randa!

--

Mic Drop. The most highly anticipated event in the music industry for its ability to make hip hop artists stars; as well as its tendency to break them just as easily.

Fame. Money. Glory. Just a few of the reasons why rap rookies from across the globe are desperate to compete in the ruthless battle of blood, sweat and rap that is Mic Drop.

They all think they have what it takes. That they have that special something the judges are looking for. Unfortunately, most don't even make it past the auditions phase.

When your brother, Mic Drop legend Runch Randa, announced he would be ditching his celebrity status and stadium concerts to return to his underground roots and compete for the trophy again, it raised a series of questions

Why now? What did he have to prove?

Once the press got wind of the fact that your parent's, CEO'S of the most prestigious record label in the industry Big Hit Entertainment, had run into a spot of financial trouble, everyone assumed your brother's re-entry was a master plan to win the lavish cash prize afforded to competition winners. Sure, you couldn't deny that it was partly true --- Big Hit's stocks were plummeting and a lot was at stake.

Truthfully, though, you knew your brother well enough to see that Namjoon's motives were far more selfish; to put it simply, he was greedy. Fame was his drug. Once he got a taste he could never get enough.

Of course, a cheque signed and delivered by your father's hand shut any rumors down very quickly. Your parent's were good at silencing people if it meant protecting Namjoon's reputation.

Even you, their own daughter.

The name tag labelled OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPHER was nothing but a cover up for the true reason you spent so much time at Big Hit -- writing each and every one of Namjoon's hit songs. A secret you were forced to keep as you watched your brother through a camera lens.

Which is how you find yourself as his strictly-invitation-only after party, an attempt at building momentum for the big final in just a few weeks time, with a camera in hand.

You're sat in the corner of the A-list club Jimin rented out for the event, swirling the deep red liquid in your glass with a bored disinterest as you watch your brother shake hands with company investors and big buck producers, most of which you'd never even heard of.

These things always seem to drag on, the clock ticking slower with each agonising second spent smiling courteously to uphold the supportive sister persona. Your feet are starting to hurt in your heels and all you want to do is hide away in the Big Hit studio and scribble down the lyrics floating aimlessly in your mind. That's the only good thing about these events -- they give you time to think, a rare relief in between your brother's busy schedules.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite lyricist."

A cheerful voice jolts you from your thoughts and when you blink up through the flashing lights you're met with a lazy grin belonging to Hoseok, one of the producers at Big Hit. He's an ex Mic Drop contestant himself, coming fourth and just missing out on the semi-finals three years ago. He never had the stomach for it anyway, he always says, but you never miss the rejection in his eyes.

Hoseok is also one of the only people who knows about your secret. He was hired to help you work on tracks for your brother once he made it big after all, and although he would never admit it you knew he probably had to sign a hefty NDA. Still, you were grateful to have him around — you couldn't deny you made something of a dream team together.

"Mind if I sit?" He gestures with his glass towards the empty space beside you, and you move your purse so he can squash in on the leather couch. "At least some of us are having fun, huh?" You follow his gaze to Namjoon on the dance floor, hands all over some vaguely recognizable celebrity's hips.

You grimace and swig back the remaining alcohol in your glass. "Too much fun, apparently."

Hoseok snorts, wringing his hands. "Y'know, we could get out of here if you're as bored as I am..." His words slur just slightly and you figure his confidence is a result of the amber liquor in his glass. The shy Hoseok  you know well returns quickly though as he averts his eyes when you raise a brow. "Not like that! I just thought maybe we could get a drink or something...if you want to?"

You shift awkwardly, having to shout over the booming club music for him to hear you. "I should really stay here. People might ask questions if the sister of the host just...disappears."

"Right!" Hoseok smiles sheepishly then slaps his own forehead. "Right. Forget I ever asked."

You shake your head fondly and turn back towards the dance floor just in time to see Namjoon whisper in the ear of the DJ, music cutting as he takes the mic and hops up onto the small stage to address the party.

Finally! A sign he was going to wrap up the evening for good!

He clears his throat and the huddle of mingling bodies below him fall into an expectant hush.

"Uh, so I'm not usually very good at these speech things --" He pauses and the crowd laughs. You tap your knee impatiently. "But I just wanted to say thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your support. So, the next round of drinks are on me! I haven't won — yet — but its never too early to start celebrating, right?"

Namjoon raises his flute of champagne and the party-goers cheer just as a flurry of confetti drops from the ceiling. The music starts again and you're too busy picking the brightly colored paper out of your hair disgruntledly to notice the way the room suddenly quietens and the guests part down the middle like prey from a predator.

"Y/N. Look." Hoseok elbows you sharply and flies forward in his seat, whisky sloshing over the edge of his glass. "Shit! Is that--"

Is that really him? What is he doing here? He's back!

You look up just in time to see the commotion as a figure in a black hoodie weaves effortlessly to the front of the room. You don't recognise him but something about his presence gives you chills.

Namjoon is too busy throwing back his drink to notice as the man climbs the stage, his skinny jeans and high tops sticking out like a sore thumb against the sea of dress shoes and cocktail dresses. He clearly wasn't invited.

By the time your brother senses the change in the air, it's too late.

You feel your face pale, choking when the figure finally turns and lets down his hood, revealing a head of blue hair and a venomous smirk.

"Gloss?"

Namjoon turns and his smile dissolves. He just stares stiffly at the person in front of him like he's seen a ghost. In a way you suppose he has -- the ghost of his past. After all, the last time anyone saw this face was five years ago at the Mic Drop final.

It is him! It's Gloss! Why is he back?

The night that changed all of your lives. When Namjoon claimed the Mic Drop trophy and Gloss, his opponent, lost everything.

It's been years since the last time you saw Gloss but you still recognize the distinctive confidence in his gait, the way his eyes flash with something dark as he looks your brother up and down with a breathy laugh.

Namjoon is frozen, breathing heavily.

Gloss' voice is husky when he finally speaks. It makes you shiver.

"Runch Randa. Long time no see, huh?"

A beat of unbearable silence.

"What are you doing here?"

Gloss's chuckle makes Namjoon snarl. You see the way his jaw tenses and his fists clench. He's too wound up; he'll snap if you don't do something and fast.

You get to your feet but Hoseok pulls you back down sternly by the elbow. "Don't." You protest but his grip is too tight so you just fidget helplessly instead.

Something settles in the atmosphere; a nervousness that makes you itch, makes your heart pump into overdrive as you watch them draw closer, eyes narrowed like boxers in a ring, waiting for the other to make a move. Hoseok covers his eyes.

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, Runch. The competition has only just begun."

The crowd gasps when your brother's clenched fist swings at his smug opponent. The rapper ducks but not quite in time and you can't remember which comes first — the crunch that crackles through the speakers when Namjoon's ring-clad knuckles collide with Gloss' face or the ear splitting thump of his mic dropping to the ground.

--

The party ends abruptly. Your head spins with confusion as you watch the guests leave in shock. Seeing Namjoon up on that stage opposite his biggest opponent again makes your stomach sick, like you were reliving the events of five years ago all over again.

Deep down you had always expected this moment to come. For Gloss to return looking for revenge or something. After all, Gloss didn't just loose Mic Drop to anyone -- he lost to Namjoon, his former best friend and music partner. Namjoon and Yoongi. They were supposed to win together. But for reasons still unknown, even to you, Yoongi was disqualified moments before the final commenced, plummeting your brother into the world of fame alone.

After that, Gloss all but disappeared, his pitiful downfall nothing but a hip hop legend to those who heard it. No record deals or sponsorships or stadium tours like your brother. A legend in his own right, but for all the wrong reasons. Mic Drop banned duos from competing thereafter.

Eventually you gather the courage to head into one of the back rooms where the rappers had been hauled by security guards in hi-vis jackets after their scuffle. You can hear Jimin babbling before you even reach the door.

"What were you thinking? Punching him? You better hope the press don't get ahold of this or else you're in big trouble—"

"Let me go!" Namjoon grunts to Jimin whose face is almost as red as his own. "I'm gonna end this once and for all."

"You'll do no such thing," Jimin tuts, pushing him firmly by the shoulder so he slumps into his seat with a roll of the eyes, other hand pressing his phone to his ear. "Do you even understand the amount of damage control I'm going to have to do to? — hold on, yes, this is Park Jimin speaking..."

The room smells of disinfectant and medical gauze and you spot Namjoon instantly, surrounded by an abundance of medics. His breathing is still ragged, the vein on his neck standing to prominence, knee bouncing as he impatiently waits for his ruby knuckles to be bandaged, too engaged to notice your arrival.

To your left you're surprised to find Yoongi. He's the epitome of composure despite the heavy tension in the air. He grabs a roll of bandage and begins to patch up his own fist, eyes lighting up with something you can't put your finger on when you slide into the room.

"Well, look who decided to turn up. If it isn't Namjoon's little sister. Long time no see, Y/N."

You freeze. It's been years since you heard him say your name. It makes you feel funny.

"Yoongi." You swallow. "What are you doing here?"

His shit eating grin makes your blood boil. "I take it you haven't heard yet, then."

You roll your eyes. You should be checking on Namjoon not humoring whatever stupid motives his opponent has. "Heard what, Yoongi?"

"I'm re-entering the competition, too."

You stagger backwards. Yoongi? Re-entering the competition? Mic Drop?

"But--you were disqualified--I don't understand?"

"I was disqualified. Disqualifications are only valid for five years, according to the rule book. Who knew?" He smirks when your eyes widen. "And I think you'll find that my sentence is up. I'm gonna win this time, once and for all."

"I don't think you know what you're doing, Yoongi—"

"There's more." He licks his lips. "I know your secret."

Your heart stops, mouth running dry. You throw a glance over your shoulder. Namjoon is still engaged, swatting away a medic's ice pack with a scowl, thankfully too busy to notice when you draw closer, voice a harsh whisper. "W-what secret?"

Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle, wincing just barely when he touches a damp cloth to the cut in his lip, a red splotch forming on the fabric. "You know exactly what secret I'm talking about, Y/N. Wouldn't it be ironic if someone slipped a tip off to the judges panel about Namjoon's ghost writer—"

"Shut the fuck up Min Yoongi or I'll break your nose for real this time!" Namjoon's voice bellows behind you, making you jolt. He charges at Yoongi, lip quivering like he might make his threat a reality. "Leave her out of this!"

Yoongi's nostrils flare. "Everyone knows she's a part of this, Namjoon, whether she likes it or not!"

All eyes look your way, as if expecting you to say something, but Yoongi's words fall cluelessly on you. You hadn't so much as thought about him in years. What did you have to do with this stupid ongoing feud with your brother that he refused to let go?

You glance between them, settling for sending a blank look at Yoongi and shuffling over to Namjoon instead. Your brother seems prideful at your show of allegiance. Yoongi scoffs.

"Namjoon?" Your mouth is dry with the shock of the situation and it comes out sounding funny, like you're wary of him. A gash above his eyebrow starts to dribble crimson. "Shit, you're hurt..."

"Get off me." Namjoon shakes his shoulder violently and you gingerly remove your hand, brows furrowed at his rejection. He directs his attention to Yoongi. "And you. You want a fight? It's on."

"Joon!—" He waves you off. It's pointless anyway. When he gets this rash there's no changing his mind.

"You want to end this thing once and for all? Then let's do this. You and me. At the final."

Yoongi raises a brow. "Deal. I'd shake your hand but you might try and knock me into next week again."

Namjoon doesn't laugh.

A hoard of security guards bust into the room and head straight for Yoongi. "Finally. What the fuck do I even pay these people for?"

"Get off me!"

You place a hand on Namjoon's shoulder and find that he's trembling. Rage? Nerves? Adrenaline? All three, probably, if the vacant blackness behind his eyes is anything to go by.

You're already trailing behind your brother when you hear Yoongi's voice carry down the hall. "I'll see you at the final! When I win. Secrets always find a way to come back and bite you in the ass, Runch. You should know that better than anyone!"

--

Namjoon begs you to come as his plus one to some scummy gig Gloss is rumored to be performing at tonight. To check out the competition, he says, but you recognise the way he nibbles his lip as he does.

Fear. He'll never admit it but Namjoon is scared he’s going to lose.

You agree to join him because you think it may put his mind at rest.

As Namjoon's manager, Jimin has all sorts of connections, mumbling thank you's into the head set sitting around his ears like a permanent accessory and scribbling down the address of some club down town.

The driver your parent's hired to escort Namjoon around as a paparazzi safety precaution drops the three of you a block away; the car's black tinted windows and shiny number plate would be out of place in such a scummy part of town. The plan would only work if you went unnoticed. Namjoon couldn't risk running into a Runch Randa fangirl tonight. It was technically against the Mic Drop rules to have any intel on your opponents, after all.

You don't like to tell Namjoon that his disguise won't do much for blending in. He dons a designer cap pulled down low over his face, long black coat drowning his figure and expensive leather boots crunching against broken glass and cigarette stumps as you near the club. It's too put together to seem natural, a dead give away that he doesn't belong here among the sea of ripped jeans and septum rings and tattoo sleeves around you. Even with a patterned bandana covering half of his face, the sculpted cheekbones and piercing eyes smudged effortlessly with black eyeliner poking over the top scream celebrity.

Luckily for you, the plain dress and knit cardigan hugging your body doesn't alert the suspicions of the bouncers cross armed at the entrance.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose and prods a half empty solo cup discarded outside with his toe, Jimin practically jittering with nerves and barely avoiding a stumbling drunk as you approach the men who stand at nearly double your size. Namjoon said it was best that you acted as spokesperson tonight — the only reason he even brought you along was because nobody would know your face and your position at Big Hit allowed you to pull some strings.

Your fingers shake as you produce a photography license from your bag, heart pounding as one of the menacing bouncers raises his eyebrow beneath the deep red hue emanating from a tacky neon sign posted above the door.

Luckily the breath you're holding is leaving you in a relieved thank you as he nods, moves to the side and gestures for your entourage to dip inside with the rest of the crowd. Namjoon charges ahead into the darkness and you follow him with an awkward smile to make up for his rude demeanour.

No turning back now...

Music hits like a deafening wave, blasting from the speakers at a volume that makes the walls shiver and your head throb. The club is alive with reckless anticipation, a sea of sweaty bodies gyrating on the dance floor in time with the pulsing beat. The energy swallows you whole, knuckles turning white as you cling to Jimin's sleeve, letting him elbow through the throng of indistinguishable faces that glitter beneath the tacky disco ball dangling haphazardly from the ceiling.

The crowd eventually spits you back out in a quieter corner of the club, Namjoon already making a beeline for the seedy bar. "There's a whiskey sour with my name on it and it's the only thing that'll get me through this shit." He murmurs as he crosses the room and occupies a bar stool beside a couple mid heavy make out session, pulling the hat closer around his face.

With a sigh, you turn back to Jimin who is eyeing up the strip pole and the exotic dancers nearby with wide eyes. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

The italian leather couch you slump into is suspiciously sticky beneath your bare thighs. "He needs to get the apprehension out of his system," you counter. "Once he sees that there's no competition he'll be able to take him down."

"I hope you're right." Jimin is wringing his hands, not knowing what to do with them now his headset is sat on the backseat of the car a block away. "I'd hate for this to knock his confidence."

"What?" You snort. "You think Gloss might actually beat him?"

Namjoon is the best rapper around, there's no debate. Nobody could beat him. Not even Gloss.

"No." His pursed lips say otherwise. You raise a brow. Jimin lowers his voice. "Maybe. Namjoon's rash. Gets ahead of himself. If he doesn't pull it together he'll play straight into Yoongi's hands..."

"Shows starting." Your open mouth snaps shut when the cushions dip beside you and Namjoon throws his arms over the back of the couch, swirling his half empty glass with an overconfident smirk.

Jimin averts his gaze. He knows he probably said too much. Sure, you're technically his colleague but you're also Namjoon's sister, the daughter of his boss. If Namjoon had overheard his position at Big Hit could have been called into question.

You would have to grill him more about Yoongi's motives later. Namjoon was right; the show really was starting.

Lights send the club into a dizzying purple haze, a new beat rumbling through the club that makes your skin prickle. It's almost drowned out by the electricity in the air, the frantic stamping of feet, the brazen chants of a single name over and over that fills you with a funny tingly feeling.

Gloss! Gloss! Gloss!

Something about it feels dirty.

The crowd is packed tightly together in the pit now. Even from where you sit, avoiding club goers eyes on the opposite side of the room, you find your attention glued to the stage. The set up is nothing like the one your brother occupies every night; just a wooden structure, painted black at one point but scuffed and scratched by the soles of shoes that boast the history of the place. The speakers are propped on broken crates, no big LED screens or back up dancers like your parents hire out for Namjoon.

Though none of that seems to matter when your gaze falls on the sole microphone stand placed centre stage beneath a blinding spotlight. It's the only familiar parallel between the two performers. It's a symbol of an artist, of the passion that comes with being up on that stage — any stage. It belongs to a performer.

You have to peer through a sea of frantic waving hands on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the combat boots taking the stage in time with the music rushing in your ears, mouth dry at the silver rings glinting under the harsh lights as fingers curl around the microphone.

"Yoongi." Namjoon grunts beside you, back stick straight and alert now. The traces of his previous smirk have been erased, a line appearing at the bridge of his nose. "There he is."

Yoongi throws his head back, breathes in the stuffy air that carries the shouts and whistles of the crowd like it's the sweetest oxygen money can buy.

The stench of beer burns your eyes but you're scared you'll miss a glimpse of his messy blue hair, or the eyes drunk on the fierce energy pulsing through the club to stop watching even if you tried.

When his voice permeates the room it's husky, burning through you like a shot of dry whisky. Namjoon stiffens, loosens the bandana around his face so he can see better.

Is that Runch Randa?

"Namjoon..." You hiss. "People are looking."

"Shut up." He grits, jaw tightening as Yoongi's lyrics cut through the tension like a serrated knife.

The way he moves across the stage like he owns it is exhilarating, makes the blood in your veins pump hot, limbs turning to lead as the crowd hangs off his every word.

He's good. Great, even. His lyrics give you goosebumps and you realise you haven't felt like this about a performance in a long time. Passionate. Yoongi is exhilarating to watch and it shakes you to the core.

It's then that it dawns on you. The reason Namjoon feels threatened is because there is a real chance that he might loose everything.

Gloss might take the trophy once and for all.

You only rip your eyes away from the stage when you feel Namjoon stand up beside you, his body disappearing into the crowd.

You get up too. "Leave him." You watch Jimin mouth. "He's just angry, he'll calm down—"

You don't care about Namjoon, not when the air is suddenly too thick, too heavy to breathe. Not when your hands sweat and you heave with a desire to run from reality and the suffocating smell of stale cigarette smoke that made your throat burn, like you can't get your body to breathe.

"Y/N? Where are you going?"

You swear you're floating, feet never seeming to quite touch the ground as you battle against the hazy dizziness that makes the room spin, ignoring Jimin's exasperated shouts of your name as you push through the gaps between bodies and pray your sense of direction is still intact enough to pull your outstretched arms towards the exit.

--

It's dark outside when you spill out of the exit, spluttering and heaving for air.

The brick is cool against your back when you slide down a nearby wall, hugging your knees.

A deep breath. In then out. Your chest loosens, lungs begin to feel full enough again.

Until a gravelly voice rings out into the night, clearer than the thump of unintelligible music from inside the club that makes your head pound.

"So it was you I saw back there. Good to know I'm not seeing things."

Even before you lift your face from between your knees you know who it belongs to. The single person you want to see least in the world at this very moment.

"Go away." You grumble but all that follows is a low chuckle as Yoongi slumps down next to you, ensuring to leave a safe distance between your crouched bodies.

It's funny. You had been preparing yourself to see him all night but now he's actually here in front of you, your mouth is dry.

He looks the same as he always did; dark eyes that burn hot as they scan your face, cocky smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. His brow looks wearier than you remember though, too weary for a man of twenty three. The only indication that time has passed since him and your brother were best friends.

"I assume Namjoon sent you here, then?"

The mention of your brother's name offers you the courage you need to look at him directly. His forehead still gleams with sweat in the dim moonlight, hair slicked back with a red bandana. There's a ring around his eye now, black and bruised. He must have taken off the black hoodie he donned on stage, left now in only a white vest which exposes his arms and to your dismay makes your blood run a little hotter.

"He's inside. I just came along because I had to." You mumble. "I'm not his spy, you know."

"Sure as shit seems like it." Yoongi spits with an amused chuckle, head lolling on his shoulders to face you. "He worried I might tell everyone about his little secret? Or was he trying to find his own leverage?"

A hot anger boils beneath your skin, rising all the way to your cheeks. Namjoon wouldn't do that would he? He didn't play that way. He didn't need to get an upper hand on Yoongi. He just wanted to see what he was up against.

"What's your problem, Yoongi?" The smirk on his mouth never falters, something glinting behind his eyes that tells you he wants to get a rise out of you. Even so, you can't help the way your voice raises, staggering to your feet. He chuckles darkly in response. "You get off on being an asshole or something?"

"You're too naive. What's so bad about telling the truth?" He closed the space between you until he's hovering above you, breath warm against your cheek. Your heart starts to race."What's so bad about taking back what is mine?"

Your breath hitches when his hand presses into the wall beside your head, effectively cornering you beneath his chest. "You could ruin his career."

Yoongi snorts. "What? Like he ruined mine?"

A few beats of silence. His eyes scan your face and it makes your stomach feel funny. You push at his chest, sucking in a shaky breath when he backs off a little and you realise part of you is weirdly disappointed that he did.

"Yoongi I don't know what happened between you and Namjoon—"

"No. You wouldn't know." He scorns, slinging his hands in his pockets, face darker now at the mention of his feud with your brother. "Because Namjoon loves secrets right? Namjoon likes to use people, Y/N. Just like he's using you now, to get to the top. And then he'll throw you away just like he did with me, sweetheart."

"Namjoon wouldn't do that." You bite your lip, the words leaving your tongue sounding a little less sure than you intend.

"Why? What makes you think you're any different?"

"He's my brother."

"I was his brother once too, remember?" He swallows, shaking his head in disbelief at your denial. "The only blood that matters to Namjoon is the blood shed to get him to the top."

You wrap your arms around your torso instinctively. Yoongi's words cut too deep. Maybe something inside of you thought Yoongi was right?

No. You came here to protect Namjoon yet here you were allowing his enemy to get inside your head.

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi." You spit, enjoying the way his eyes widen at the venom lacing your tone. "I made a mistake coming here."

Before you could brush past him and escape the heat  running through your blood stream which feels fuzzier than hatred should, a hand curls around your wrist.

"Shit. Looks like someone's on your trail."

A quick glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jimin, face hidden by the visor of his black cap but recognisable none the less. He speaks a few words to the bouncer, probably asking if they saw you come out.

"Oh no."

The bouncer gestures in your direction. Jimin's eyes pause for a second as they skim across your form stood rigid with shock and your heart falls out of your ass when he starts in the direction of where you stand way too close to Yoongi unable to move a single muscle as you brace for discovery. To pay for your betrayal of your brother.

"You coming or what?" Yoongi snaps you back to reality with a tug on your arm, feet stumbling over each other as he drags you behind him further down the alley and around a nearly pitch black corner, too far away from the street lights to be basked in their orange glow.

"What the fuck, Yoongi?" You try to shrug out of his grasp, heart beating faster when you see the flat look on his face. "Let go of me!"

Yoongi comes to an abrupt halt. "Listen, I'm trying to save your ass here. You want to get caught? Go on then! Not my problem."

You nibble your lip, glancing one way at the dark alley and the other at Jimin pacing up and down the street with furrowed brows.

"Just trust me, Y/N."

Jimin's footsteps get closer and closer. It's now or never.

Tightening your jaw, you turn back to Yoongi and nod. The words feel foreign as they pass your lips. "I...trust you."

With that, Yoongi grabs your hand and breaks into a sprint

Turning the corner, the alley meets a dead end. The back of the club is just as run down as the front, littered with cracked beer bottles and cigarette stumps. The sign above the door labelled NO ENTRY doesn't offer any light and apparently Yoongi doesn't listen to directions because he fishes in his back pocket for a key, sliding the bolt and pushing on the bar to hold the door open with a small nod for you to go inside first.

With a deep breath, you do.

The door closes behind you with a jingle of chains, cutting off the slither of moonlight it provided and sending you into complete darkness. You hear Yoongi slide the bolt back across and then he fumbles for you in the darkness, your body pulled down next to his with a yelp so that you're out of direct view of the window which looks inside the room.

"I think they followed us." His voice is silk but there's an underlying insinuation. Be quiet.

Yoongi's eye level now, knees squeezed up against yours in the cramped space beneath the window ledge. Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, able to see the way he scans your face when he thinks you aren't looking. The way he grumbles and looks away when you catch him.

There's not time to dwell as you hear footsteps turn the corner, tracking all the way to the door where the bolt rattles, a sleeve wiping the window and pressing a cupped face to the glass.

"She's not here, man. You must have seen someone else."

It was Hoseok. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Countless all nighters in the studio together does that to a person. Had Jimin called him all the way down here to look for you?

Jimin chimes in quickly. "I could have sworn it was her..."

The voices trail off as they retreat back down the alley, around to the front of the club.

A sigh escapes you, head falling against the wall in relief. When you open your eyes Yoongi is looking at you again. There's something pained in his expression, unspoken words visible in the way he bites his cheek to stop them from spilling out into the darkness.

His fingers are still wrapped around your arm, an electricity buzzing through your veins when you feel him lean in closer, pulling you towards him just barely.

His lips. Chapped and so close to yours. God. You think you want to kiss them. Just to know how it feels. You've never seen them up this close before. Not close enough to feel his hot breaths puffing against your forehead. Not close enough that if you just lifted your chin a little bit...

Yoongi lets out an embarrassed cough, jolting you out of your thoughts. "That was a close one, huh?" The spot where his hand resided feels cold when he rips it away.

Yoongi's face is wiped of any emotion again. He's not completely slick though as when he finally speaks again he sounds husky, the betrayal in his voice surprising even him.

"Are you okay?"

What were you supposed to say to that? I almost got caught with my brother's enemy and then thought about kissing said enemy. No, I don't think I am okay.

"Fine. Thanks."

Yoongi offers you a hand, getting to his feet and pulling you up after him before he leans across your body to flick on the lights.

The yellowish stream burns your eyes but allows you to take in the room around you. There's a keyboard in the corner, piles of sheet music strewn across the wooden desk beside it. A pair of speakers hooked up to a worn looking sound machine. A mic and a pair of headphones slung over the back of the mismatch wheely chair tucked beneath a desk.

A studio.

He must notice the way you look around with wide eyes, redness creeping up his neck as he busies himself by kicking some of the clutter on the floor behind the desk. "Wasn't expecting guests."

It definitely wasn't the high tech producing set up you were provided with back at Big Hit, no hifi system or fancy computer programmes. The furniture was mismatch, like someone had collected a bunch of spare puzzle pieces and shook them up in the box until they made a picture.

Somehow of the pieces still manage to seem somehow inherently Yoongi; the basketball tee with GLOSS on the back draped over his chair, even the empty water bottles overflowing in the trash can. The tiny framed picture of a younger looking Yoongi next to a woman you think you recognise but can't quite put your finger on.

"Genius lab?" You snort, nodding towards the sign hanging haphazardly above the monitor.

Yoongi shrugs. "What can I say? It's true."

"Confident." You muse.

You share a smile. It's strange. Familiar. The way his eyes crinkle and even the husk of the chuckle that follows reminding you of when things were good, back when you considered Yoongi to be a sort of friend. Before things got fucked up.

"You'll take it back when I win."

Old habits might not die hard but the rational part of your brain registers the implication of his words, even beneath his playful facade. The studio suddenly feels cold. Nostalgia dissipates. You remember why you're here.

"Why didn't you just let them find me?"

"You know as well as I do that Namjoon risks getting disqualified if Jimin causes a scene and gets himself caught snooping around here."

You huff an exasperated breath. For all Yoongi's talk of  having the upper hand he sure did seem reluctant to use it. "Isn't that what you want? What's stopping you? Want to drag it out or something?"

Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, crossing the room and ducking into a drawer in the far corner. He returns with two glasses and a murky bottle of something strong, already a quarter empty as he pours some out. He offers the second glass towards you but you wave it away.

"Suit yourself." He takes a swig of the dark liquid, squeezes his eyes shut. "Because I want to win fair and square."

You shake your head. "All of this. Just for a stupid trophy?"

He eyes you over the rim of his glass, swirling the liquid with an overconfidence that makes you grit your teeth in annoyance. "So Namjoon knows how it feels to lose something he loves." He looks you up and down then, coughing and turning his head when you notice it. "Yeah. I guess it's for the trophy."

Yoongi is despicable, you think. Is he really so fame hungry that he will destroy anyone standing in his way to get it? Even Namjoon? Sure, your brother has his faults but if there is one thing you know it's that he loves being on that stage. What happened between them that makes Yoongi think he deserves it more?

"So its a revenge thing, then. And what if you lose, huh?" The way your voice raises makes you wince. Yoongi slams his glass down and flashes you an are you serious face.

"Y/N don't you see? I have nothing to lose. Namjoon already took everything. My life, my family, my fame. Everything. You know how it feels to have it all dangled in front of your face? And then get it ripped away like it was never yours to begin with?"

Yes. You'd never tell him that, of course. But you did know. You had to watch Namjoon perform your songs every night through a camera lens. Snapping shots of him in his element and wishing those picture perfect moments were yours. What did Yoongi know?

"I see him on the big screen, on stages I dreamed of. Crowds screaming his name. It was supposed to be me, Y/N. Meanwhile I'm sat here," Yoongi gestures to the shabby studio you find yourself in, liquid sloshing over the edge of his glass. "In clothes I printed myself, making music in a shitty club for free because nobody will even listen to my shit."

He's panting by the end of his spiel, knuckles pressed to his eyes as he tries to regain his composure before he lets too many of his weaknesses show. Something resonates inside you, softening the anger towards him with what you recognize as sympathy.

"Then why do you still do it? Make music?"

"Because it's the only thing that never left me alone."

You sigh. While you're collecting your thoughts something catches your eye — a Polaroid picture, tacked onto the plasterboard behind his computer. It's of a smiling Yoongi and much to your surprise, a smiling Namjoon, arms wrapped around each other like nothing could ever break them apart. You briefly wonder why he kept it, if he hated Namjoon so much.

You turn to him again.

"Don't make me regret saying this but you're good, Yoongi. Like really good. Your performance earlier it was...amazing. I mean that."

Yoongi's stern eyes soften with surprise. He almost seems pained, like the simple compliment means more to him than you expected.

"So, you don't have to do this. Big Hit has connections, I could get in touch with a couple record labels--"

He stiffens again. "What? Are you my manager now? As if any record label would take a chance on the biggest Mic Drop loser in history, Y/N, don't talk shit."

You trail off. It's true and you know it.

He swallows hard. "You know what I think? I think you're here because you know that I might actually win this thing. As much as Namjoon knows how to play dirty he doesn't have the talent. He never did! That's why he's using you to write his material." His laugh makes you shiver. "How can he even call himself an artist? It's pathetic."

That's all it takes for your patience to snap. Is the way your blood boils with a sudden and insatiable rage because of the way he bad mouthed your brother? Surely you didn't actually believe him? No, everything he said was a lie -- it had to be.

Your hand curls into a fist, anger spilling over as you charge at him full force. Yoongi barley flinches, his fingers deftly curling around your wrist before it can meet his jaw and pulling you into him at the waist so he can slot his bottom lip between yours.

"Fuck yo— hmf?"

Your eyes widen as you register his slightly chapped lips moving against your own, remnants of the amber liquid he poured down his throat earlier sour on your tongue, a surprised gasp leaving you when Yoongi flips your bodies and slams your back roughly against the wall, settling himself between your legs.

"Gonna finish what Namjoon started, sweetheart?" When he pulls back you're panting, eyes trained to his parted lips with wonder.

He kissed you. Yoongi kissed you. For real.

His warm breath still mingles with yours as you try to choke a response, anything. Yoongi's eyes have a dark glint to them and god you should hate him for winding you up like this but being this close to him just feels too good.

Then, before you can think better of it, you grab his collar with your free hand and smash your lips together in a tangle of teeth and tongue that makes your entire body burn with relief.

The groan he lets out against your mouth tells you he wants this too. "Fuck, couldn't help myself." He pants. "You're driving me crazy."

You feel a dampness throb between your legs when his hands tangle in your hair, lips never leaving yours as he pulls you across the room and drops into his chair.

A whimper is pulled from your lips when his palms cup the flesh of your ass beneath your dress, though it's not in protest, dizzy with desire when he pulls you into his lap and bucks his hips so that his half hard cock brushes against your clothed heat.

"See what you do to me?" He pulls back to smirk at your swollen lips, a much needed breath entering your lungs, filling you with another bout of restless desire as Yoongi's eyes scan your face hungrily. It feels too good even though it should be so wrong.

"W-we shouldn't." Your mouth is dry, words coming out a little unsure which gives away just how much you want to keep going. "What if--"

A particularly harsh thrust of his hips makes you moan softly, head falling into the crook of Yoongi's neck. He growls when he catches sight of the growing wet patch on the front of his jeans, testament of his effect on you as much as you hated to admit it.

"What if Namjoon finds out?" His hand shoots between your legs, pads of his fingers tracing your clothed core, the coarse lace of your panties adding a delicious layer of friction against your folds. The delicate touch sets your body alight, skin burning to let go and submit to the feeling despite the voice in the back of your mind screaming no!

"What if Namjoon finds out that I make you this wet?" Your panties are sticking to your heat by now so it would have been futile to deny it. He smiles smugly when your legs shake and you throw an arm around his neck to keep your balance.

"S-shut up." It's meek and it only makes him laugh darkly, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer to nibble on the lobe of your ear.

If you didn't know any better you would think he was unaffected by this. Your chest heaves with desire and your hands itch with a yearning to touch him but Yoongi appears the epitome of composure, maintaining sinful eye contact as he pulls your panties to the side. The only give away is the way his cock twitches against your leg with each jerk of his hips, a funny sense of pride erupting in your chest knowing that he wants you too.

Open mouthed kisses drag down your jaw, lingering at your neck. His teeth nibble at the sensitive skin, tongue laving out to soothe the sting and it feels too good to worry about the bruises his sinful lips leave behind as a reminder of your weakness Namjoon could never know of.

"Look so pretty marked up, sweetheart." The pet name makes your clit throb, head throwing back as his mouth attacks the sensitive spot on your neck like he knew it was there all along. It's almost concerning how quickly he has you falling apart in his lap. How easily he turned you into a shuddering mess, barely able to form coherent sentences in between breathy gasps at the sensation of him making you his for all to see. "Show everyone that you're mine, hm?"

When Yoongi removes his hand from your core you slap a hand over your mouth to stop a whine of protest from escaping. Yoongi's eyes narrow, palming his bulge through his trousers as he watches you writhe in his lap with amusement, every twist of your hips falling short and providing no relief for your pulsing clit, already missing the feeling of his hand cupping your mound and considering how it would feel skin on skin—

Oh god. What am I doing?

You let out a groan, but not the good kind.

"What?" Yoongi seems to read your mind, snapping you back to reality when he pulls your panties to the side. He circles your entrance teasingly and you can't help the way you whimper. "Don't act like you don't want to sink down on my cock, Y/N. You could ride me right here and nobody would ever know."

"H-how can I trust you?" It would ruin Namjoon if he found out. He was already stressed, already growing distant from you. This had to stop before it went too far. Before there was no going back.

"Because I can make you feel like this." A lithe finger slides into your heat, easy because of how you drip over his hand. "Think about how much better my cock would stretch you out, hm?"

Each drag of his finger against your velvety walls has you squeezing your eyes shut. The sensation is overwhelming, and when he adds a second digit  you feel your repose crumble. Lust seems to crash over you like a wave, clouding your thought with a hazy desire to just give in and let Yoongi take you, uncaring about the repercussions now as you push down to meet his thrusts so he hits deeper than before.

"Fine." Your words are slurred, too busy chasing the feeling between your legs to see the way it makes Yoongi's eyes light up. "J-just hurry up and fuck me Yoongi."

"Well well," Yoongi settles back against the wall, looking between your bodies to watch the way his fingers disappear into your soaking cunt with an expression almost primal, his own breathing ragged now as he tries to resist turning you over and fucking you into tomorrow then and there. "Never thought I'd actually get to hear my name on your lips like this. Say it again."

A sharp flick of his wrist has you falling against his chest, pulsing around him. "Yoongi!"

"That's right," He licks his lips, free hand unzipping his jeans to relieve the pressure on his length. "Me. Yoongi." The way he mimicks your breathless tone makes a hot blush rise in your cheeks, aware of just how fucked out you must seem right now but too horny to care. "Been waiting for this. Ah shit!"

You take it upon yourself to hurry along the process by reaching into the waistband of his boxers to wrap a hand around the shaft of his cock. It pulses at your touch, the pace of Yoongi's fingers in your cunt stuttering as he flies forward, knuckles on the hand gripping your thigh turning white as he tries to regain some control while you stroke him firmly.

"Fuck your hands. Sinful. Knew they would be. God you're going to kill me if you keep this up, I swear." The worlds tumble from his mouth in one heaving breath as you twist your palm around his sticky head, enjoying the way his thighs twitch with a want to buck into your fist and his nose flares with the effort it takes to resist.

His cock feels girthy in your palm, hot and heavy as you help him shimmy his jeans around his thighs. When his cock slaps back against his stomach, impossibly hard and leaking with anticipation you feel your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" He almost taunts.

You bite your lip. "I don't think you're gonna fit."

It must have brushed his ego because the tip seemed to flush an even deeper shade of red. "Wanna sit on it and find out?"

A nod is all it takes for Yoongi to slide your panties to the side, slapping your hands away to grip the base of his cock and line it up with your entrance.

You both groan in unison when he pushes into your heat, the stretch burning with every inch, fingers clutching the fabric of his tank top at the sensation of finally being full.

"Fuuuck." You see his tongue snake out to wet his bottom lip when his hips finally join flush to yours, hair sticking to his already damp forehead as he allowed you to adjust. "So fucking tight for me, princess."

His cock throbs impossibly deep inside you when you unconsciously clench around it, feeling your face flush as you whimper for him to get on with it and fuck you already.

"Shh, patience." His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, setting it free with a pop. "Move."

At his command you do, bracing yourself on his shoulders. You raise up, feeling every ridge of his length until just the tip remains inside your heat. Then you are slamming back down and flushing at the groan which tumbles from his chest.

"Such a slut, taking my cock so well." His palms feel hot on your hips, dragging you up and down through the motion that has you panting.

Yoongi looks utterly amazed at the visual of you sinking down onto his length, unable to stop the satisfied grin settling into his features when you cry out after a particularly deep thrust. "Imagine if Namjoon could see you now. Falling apart on my cock?"

"Can we — hnng — not talk about my brother when you're in my fucking guts?"

"Why?" A whine leaves you when he slips out of your cunt, grabs you by the ass, and hoists you to your feet, roughly bending you over the desk until your cheek presses against the cold surface. Yoongi tugs your hands behind your back, cock already sinking back into your heat before you can protest at the emptiness. "Worried he'll think you're a slut for taking my cock when I'm the one whose going to fucking end him?"

"Yes!" You cry, unable to hold back now as you feel his cock hit deeper than before with every ram inside you that fills the room with the slapping sound of his pistoning hips, brushing your sweet spot each time and making the coil in your stomach tighten.

God, this is so wrong and you know it. You know it shouldn't feel so good when Yoongi's hands tangle in your hair, pulling you so that your back arches flush against his sweaty chest. Know how many people would be hurt if they knew how much you love it, how you push back into his thrusts, eager for more.

"Shit, you're squeezing so tight." His voice sounds strained now, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him shudder. "Close, shit. Where can I—"

"Inside me. Want you to f-fill me."

"Holy sh— always wanted to hear you say that. Okay, fuck."

A few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling inside you, the feeling of his release coating your walls enough to have you falling over the edge unexpectedly too, vision turning black as you cum with a cry.

The only sound that fills the silence is your heavy breaths mingling with his as your arms give out. You're silently grateful, as much as you hated to admit it, for the strong arm around your torso that holds you to him when your legs turn to jelly.

Yoongi slips out of you, admiring the way his cum leaks down your trembling thighs. The emptiness makes you keen, clenching around nothing.

"Made such a mess of you, kitten."

The sound of his zipper makes your heart sink, stiffening as he tucks his spent cock back into his pants. For a second you think he's going to leave you like this, shame caressing your cheeks as you envision how fucked out you must look.

But then, Yoongi's palms are back on your thighs as he kicks the chair from under his desk and pushes you roughly onto the cushion. "Think you can go again for me, princess?"

"Wha--?" His swollen lips make you loose your words, the way his tongue tantalizingly caresses your bottom lip drawing a choked whine from your throat instead.

"Fuck, always thought you'd make such pretty noises." It's mumbled gruffly under his breath, like he's confirming it with himself rather than addressing you. He pulls back to stare at you spread out for him, lidded eyes widening at the visual of your skirt pooled around your waist, legs kept open by the rough grip around your thigh that exposes your swollen slit. The way your arousal drips down your inner thighs along with his own release has him swallowing thickly. "Like being filled with my cum, huh? Such a slut."

Yoongi traces his fingers up your inner thighs, thumb applying a gentle pressure to your clit, legs struggling to fall shut around his hand to escape the over stimulation. "P-please Yoongi, I can't."

"You will." It's growled against your neck, hot breath making you shudder. "I know you can take it."

A knee slips between your thighs, holding them open so his fingers can deftly continue their brutal attack on your sensitive folds. Each drag of his knuckle up your slit makes you whimper, the way the pads of his fingers rub firm circles into your clit making it pulse. The feeling is more intense than before, borderline agonizing as a warmth builds in the pit of your stomach again.

Eventually the pain starts to dissipate, turns into something closer to pleasure when you feel a single digit slip into your heat, the slide made easy by the fact that his cock had already stretched you out and his release lubed you up nicely. Each pump makes a lewd squelching noise that has you biting your lip to stop from groaning unabashedly, Yoongi's gaze fixed to the sight of his knuckles disappearing inside you.

When you buck up into his touch again, desperately circling your hips to try and grind your clit against the heel of his hand, Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle. The muscles in your cunt tighten, skin damp with sweat as you fuck yourself on his hand in search of a second high that burns ever closer.

"Look at you, all needy again from just one finger. All fucked out again even after I stretched you out."

With that Yoongi removes his hand from your heat all together, leaving you gasping and clenching around nothing as your release falls farther away, unable to resist the groan of frustration that passes your lips.

"Don't stop!" Your head lolls back against the chair, thighs trembling with desperation to feel his touch again. "I was so close--"

"Suck." Yoongi raises his fingers to your lips. You notice the way they gleam, sticky and white in the studio lighting. The pads of his fingers smear the wetness across your swollen lips as he pushes for entry which you gave to him eagerly, humming around the digits. "Be a good girl, hm?"

He all but groans when your eyes flutter open and lock with his, tongue swirling around his fingers teasingly, enjoying the taste of your own arousal mixed with the saltiness of his cum, almost in sensory overload at the thought of how much better his cock would feel in your throat.

"That's it." A knuckle drags down your cheek possessively, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good girl."

A sticky trail of spit follows Yoongi's fingers when they leave your mouth with a lewd pop, your breaths coming out shaky and desperate as you watch his eyes zone in on your aching core.

The sight of him dropping to his knees is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, whimpering when his hot breath grazes over your throbbing clit. "Wanna taste you for myself."

And with that his tongue runs a rough stripe up your slit, eyes falling shut as he hums against your folds contentedly.

"Fuck Yoongi!" Your eyes roll back as he laps a few teasing licks across your bud, body turning to putty when his hands roughly pull you down the chair so that he can attach his mouth to your mound fully.

A guttural moan rises from his chest when you grind your core against his face, knuckles turning white as you clutch he chair like it's the only thing keeping you grounded, stopping you from floating away and losing yourself to the feeling of Yoongi's tongue teasing your already wrecked hole. An impatience rises in your stomach every time his nose grazes your clit, pushing your hips more forcefully to chase the relief it brings.

"So eager." You knew he'd have a smirk on his face if his lips weren't already occupied, wrapping around your clit and sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have your fingers tangling in the blue locks that spill loose from his bandanna now, holding him to your core so that you can rock against his tongue easier.

"Close sweetheart?" The way your chest heaves and little gasps spill past your lips as you chase your high must give away the effect he is having on you. You nod breathlessly and to your surprise Yoongi places a chaste kiss to your folds before pulling back all together, leaving you writhing and desperate for him to make cum for the second time. "Did I give you permission?"

Your heart beats furiously as your release slips away once again. Yoongi only stares at you intently. His lips glisten with a mixture of both of your releases and the thought alone makes your core ache. A loose shake of your head makes his eyes darken, licking some of the dampness from around his lips. "Gotta use your words, baby. Did I say you could cum?"

Dizzy with arousal, your words sound slurred and alien to your own ears. "N-no."

"Good. Now ask nicely."

"Please." It comes out whinier than you anticipate but Yoongi's hands twitch against the flesh of your thighs, giving away the fact that he likes it despite the way his mouth presses into a tight and unforgiving line. "Can I cum? Please?"

A deep laugh leaves his bitten lips. "I don't think you deserve it." His head dips back down between your legs, sloppy kisses pressed to each of your thighs as he edges ever closer to your dripping core. "I want you to count, okay?"

"O-oh, okay." He attacks your clit again, tongue swirling where his teeth graze across the pulsing bud. You're so sensitive that you're sure just the light brushes of his lips will send you over the edge if he keeps going.

"G-gonna cum if you--"

"Don't." The authority in his voice makes you gasp. "Didn't I say to count? One."

"Fuck!" Hot tears streak your cheeks when he pulls back so just his hot breath ghosts across your glistening folds. "I..I was so close!"

"Hey, hey." His hand reaches up to stroke your cheek, a strangely gentle action in comparison to the bruising grip on your thigh. "You're doing so good. Trust me, okay? Wanna make you feel good."

For the second time that night you nod, putting all your trust into him for reasons you are too fucked out to dwell on there and then.

When his tongue snakes out to tease your clenching hole again it draws an agonizing cry from you, the coil already tightening in your belly. You shut your eyes.

"Don't" The hand on your chin tightens, forces you to look down at where his face is buried between your legs, authority lacing his words again. "Keep your eyes on me."

As soon as you lock eyes he gets to work again, humming out a "good girl" before you're losing yourself again to his tongue and he has to plant your feet down roughly to stop your hips from bucking too much.

Before you know it your clit's throbbing again and you're about to fall over the edge but before you can even let Yoongi know he's pulling back with a pant, practically gasping for air but still flashing you a shit eating grin. "Didn't think I was going to let you, did you sweetheart?"

"Two." You manage to breathe. "Two!"

By now you're sick of the teasing, a hand coming between your own legs to finish yourself off, ready to come undone whether Yoongi likes it or not. Before you can get your way, Yoongi's swatting your hand away. "Desperate slut. Wanna cum that bad huh?"

"Please!" You practically whimper.

That seems to do it for him, his eyes glazing over with what you recognise as lust. As if the last of his self control just snapped. Anticipation makes your blood run hot.

"Then make it to three and we'll see if I'm feeling nice."

"Shit!" Yoongi's tongue plunges into your heat with a new found eagerness, thrusting in and out like a man deprived. You manage to maintain eye contact this time, falling apart at the way he groans in appreciation when he tastes himself, fucking your hole with his tongue mercilessly like he wants to get every last drop of his cum.

His thumb finds your clit and the coil in your lower belly tightens too rapidly for you to comprehend, tugging on his hair as you cry out. "Yoongi!"

"Cum for me."

His permission is all it takes to have you falling over the edge into a shattering orgasm that makes your vision turn black, mind wiped of any hesitation and guilt and replaced with a single word, over and over again: Yoongi.

When you finally take a gasping breath, he's there, rubbing encouraging circles into your hips and leaving kisses across your stomach that makes something in your chest warm, heart beating a little faster and not just from your orgasm.

"So fuckin' pretty when you cum." You're sure that's what he murmurs against your damp skin. "Can't believe I had to wait this long."

You furrow your brow. Yoongi sits back against his heels, wiping your arousal from his mouth with the back of his hand and flashing you a lazy but satisfied smile, looking awfully pleased with himself. Like this was his biggest dream come true.

It dawned on you that it probably was in someways -- what better way to get back at an old friend than by fucking his sister?

You suddenly feel like an idiot for letting him charm you, guilt washing through you, flying forward when your chest aches with regret.

Yoongi notices how you pale. "Are you okay? If that was too much then I'm really sorry--"

"Too much?" You suddenly feel exposed beneath his gaze, shuffling around to pull your skirt around your thighs, eyes roaming the room hurriedly for your panties so you can get out of here and quick. "This is all too much, Yoongi."

"What?" He puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you as you brush past him but the way you jolt at the touch makes him rip it away like he touched a live wire.

"I...shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake."

Namjoon's face was embedded in your mind. The way his eyes would crumple with betrayal if he found out you came here at all -- let alone let Yoongi take you so intimately. And you hadn't even tried to stop yourself from falling into him, gave in to your emotions too easily and allowed Yoongi to use you as a swipe at your own brother.

"Why? Didn't seem so upset when you were coming on my tongue." The scoff in Yoongi's voice makes you freeze.

"I can't stop you from hurting Namjoon," Your lip quivers and you have to press your nails into your palms to stop the tears spilling over. "But do you really have to hurt me, too?"

"Y/N, wait--"

Your hands shake as you grab your bag and head for the door. "Shit happened between you and my brother, I get it. But we were friends once, Yoongi. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We can't see each other again."

Your tears are warm in contrast to the cold evening air as you take off into a run, needing to get as far away from Yoongi and the evidence of your own betrayal as possible.

By the time you stumble back into the Big Hit company building, the studio is empty. To your surprise, words seem to flow out of you easier than they ever had before, a heart shaped stain appearing on the formerly empty page of your notebook.

--

Sleepless nights were becoming your norm. You had barely slept a wink since that night, not when every thought was plagued with guilt, the same name running circles around your mind, the same dark eyes and swollen lips and messy hair tauntingly appearing in your mind whenever your head hit the pillow.

Yoongi.

That night with Yoongi felt something like a dream, a hazy memory, the only evidence of it being real the fact that every time you closed your eyes you could feel the way Yoongi's hands burned your skin, how his lips moved perfectly in sync with your own.

As much as you knew it was a mistake, something that should have never happened, you couldn't help the way your heart throbbed every time you replayed it over and over in your mind, repeatedly, until you felt like you were going insane with guilt. It was eating you alive. But sometimes you would remember the way you felt when he was pressed up against you and every ounce of regret felt worth it.

You hated yourself for it, and you knew your brother would hate you to, if he ever found out.

He could never find out.

So, you take to avoiding Namjoon altogether. It wasn't that hard really, you knew his schedule well enough to be a step ahead of him at all times, and it wasn't as if he was enthusiastic about your company to begin with.

Of course sometimes your paths have to cross, but you still can't look Namjoon in the eyes when you slip into one of the Big Hit practice rooms where you know you'll inevitably find him.

The music hits before you even open the door. Namjoon is dressed in casual clothes, cap pulled down low over his face as he raps into a mic, the way his voice husks a tell tale sign that this was not the first time he'd gone over the same verse.

He seems stiffer than usual, all elbows and knees as he scrutinises his own form in the wall to floor mirror. You've seen him perform this choreography flawlessly hundreds of times so your brow furrows with confusion each time his feet miss a beat or his knees literally buckle under the pressure.

On the far side of the room sits a row of men and women in formal suits. Investors, brought in to bet on the contestant most likely to win. They watch Namjoon with intent eyes, some shaking their heads in disapproval, others whispering insults below their breaths.

Is that really Runch Randa? Pfft, he'll never win with footwork like that.

Jimin stands close by, hopping from one foot to the other and wincing with every mistake Namjoon makes. He's been making desperate phone calls for the last week, pleading with any investor he could get ahold of to take a chance on Namjoon which was hard to come by after the royal media fuck up the other day at the after party.

This was Namjoon's only chance at a do over — he needed their money if he wanted to win this thing. The judges were expecting a show from him. Smoke machines and good lighting are expensive, after all.

Namjoon, however, only seems interested in the reactions of your parents sat in the back row, expressions grave. He's chastising himself, self loathing evident in his eyes every time he stutters over a lyric. He knows how hard they worked to establish Big Hit and the disappointment in their eyes as it slowly slips through Namjoon's fingers like sand makes even you feel jittery with nerves.

For a brief moment you're grateful that you are practically invisible in this room, no eyes even glancing your way as you join them. You're glad that Namjoon takes the brunt of the pressure. You never were the strong sibling after all.

The music cuts, Namjoon coming to a stand still. He crumples at the knees, forehead pressed against the polished linoleum floor as he tries to catch his breath.

Jimin slumps into a chair, head in hands. That tells you all you need to know.

Investors leave the room, some sending apologetic looks towards Jimin with a shrug. Others deposit their cheque books back into their briefcases, taking pity on the pleading smiles and firm handshakes from your parents when they apologise for Namjoon's lacking performance. One even pats Namjoon on the back, following the small crowd as they leave the room. "Take a break, buddy."

Nearly everyone has filtered out before Namjoon gets to his feet shakily, slumping down into a seat beside you. You don't acknowledge him, afraid of what you might let slip if you do, fiddling with your camera as a distraction.

It's him who breaks the silence.

"How's the song coming along?" He seems disinterested, clicking his knuckles with no real intention of listening to your response.

"Fine." Another lie. It wasn't coming along at all, really, but now is probably not the best time to tell him when his nerves are already heightened by his failure to gain any crucial investments.

His eye is still slightly swollen from the fist fight a few days ago, a permanent line forming at the bridge of his nose that wasn't there before. You almost didn't recognise him. He stares at his own broken reflection in the steamed practice room mirrors vacantly, like he doesn't  even recognise himself.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass. Namjoon's heavy breathing slows to a regular pace.

"I know you went to see him."

It echos menacingly through the room and you stiffen, clutching the floor beneath you for support. Namjoon's hard eyes still don't look your way but you see him analysing your reaction in the mirror. The way your mouth gapes speechlessly tells him everything he needs to know.

"Not even gonna try and deny it?" His head shakes in disbelief.

You throb with guilt. "H-how did you find out?"

"I have people everywhere keeping an eye on him, Y/N. You're lucky the paparazzi didn't catch you, because it sure as shit looked shady. My own sister," He scoffs around the word, as if it tastes bad in his mouth. "Siding with him?"

You place a hand on his forearm, surprised to find him shaking beneath your touch. "I'm not siding with him, Namjoon."

"Then what are you doing?" He roars, ripping his arm away.

What was I doing? You don't even know yourself.

It takes everything inside you to keep the expression on your face neutral, to wipe away the regret and the sadness and the fear that makes your voice wobble.

"We just talked." You had to avert your gaze, scared that somehow your disingenuous eyes would give away what really happened with Yoongi — a little more than talking to say the least.

"About what?"

"The secret, okay? I wanted to protect you—"

"Protect me?" Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. "How is meddling in business that doesn't even concern you protecting me, Y/N?"

"Have you forgotten that what you're — we're — doing is against Mic Drop rules? That you could be disqualified or...worse! Get your trophy revoked?"

"Pfft. Yoongi won't say anything.."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's me he wants to hurt. I know him, Y/N. He'd never forgive himself if you—" He eyes you carefully. "If anyone else got dragged into this. It's between me and him, that's it."

Your head is spinning. You remember a time when things weren't this way, back when Yoongi and Namjoon were friends. Partners. What happened between them that made them so hell bent on destroying one another?

"There are things about Yoongi that you will never understand, Y/N. Things he did that can never be forgiven."

It briefly crosses your mind that if Namjoon could cut Yoongi, his best friend, out of his life, just how easy it would be for him to do the same to you if he found out just how unforgivable your betrayal was. A funny feeling pools in your stomach, a distance settling between you and Namjoon as, to your dismay, you realise just how much you have in common with your brother's enemy.

"But what about you, huh? Why should he forgive you? You took everything from him! I'm not surprised he's back to kick your ass. If you ask me it's him who should be holding a grudge—"

Namjoon's hands clamp onto your shoulders and you recoil from the contact. You're breathing hard, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over any second.

"Listen to me. He's trying to get in your head. You need to stay away from him Y/N. He's bad news."

"Tell me why! Help me understand!"

Namjoon's face is grave. "Some secrets are best kept that way. It'll only make it worse if I tell you."

Before you can protest he's striding across the room and hitting the play button on the boom box in the corner, music blasting from the speakers again.

"Joon—"

"Just stick to taking pictures and stop getting involved in business that doesn't concern you."

Then his body is twisting across the room in time to the music with an intensity he didn't possess before. Like a machine on autopilot.

You shove your camera into your bag and let the door slam shut behind you.

--

"We were a mistake."

The cursor flashing on the empty document on your computer screen feels like it's taunting you.

"Please don't tell my brother what we did."

You've been like this for the last week. Holed up in one of the tiny studios at the Big Hit company building, head swimming with beats and melodies and lyrics that just won't seem to fit together. Not when your mind is preoccupied with a more pressing issue.

"Are you thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about you?"

Yoongi.

God, how are you supposed to write this song for Namjoon when all you can think about is his enemy?

You don't know why you're still so hung up on Yoongi. It's not as if what happened between you meant anything. It was just a spur of the moment mistake. You were both tense and needed someone to help blow off some steam. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Right?

You'll never admit that deep down, a part of you wants to see him again. To check that he's real and that you didn't imagine the whole thing. To see if he is going as crazy as you feel.

That's when the answer hits you. The only way to make this right is to end things once and for all. Tie up all your loose ends and tell Yoongi that you and him were a one time thing. Make sure you were on the same page.

Then maybe you'll be able to concentrate on helping Namjoon beat his ass.

A sudden confidence grips you, standing up abruptly from your desk, alerting the attention of Hoseok who up until now has been quietly engrossed in the track he's producing.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

There's an address burning at the forefront of your mind. You have the route committed to memory. How long it'll take to get there. How long it'll take to get back before anyone else at Big Hit notices your absence.

The only place you knew where you might find Yoongi.

"I won't be gone long. Cover for me if anyone sees I'm gone, 'kay?"

Hoseok eyes you curiously and pulls his headphones to sit around his neck. "O-okay but don't you think you should take an umbrella? It's raining and you might catch a cold — oh."

You don't hear him, the door already slamming behind you.

--

In hindsight, Hoseok was probably right. You're soaked before you even get half way to Yoongi's studio.

Not that you care. Not when there are so many things you want to say to Yoongi. So many questions only he knows the answer to.

Not when you're about to see him again and you're giddy and nervous and scared of the way your heart feels like it's about to bust out of your chest.

You don't really know why you're doing this. For Namjoon's sake? To ease your own guilty conscience? Both?

You shake your head before your confidence can deflate and focus on putting two feet in front of the other instead, trying to take your mind of your destination by focusing on your surroundings. You always liked this part of town, with it's bustling roads and street vendors and buskers. Here it's easy to forget, to just close your eyes and let the buzz of cars and the melody from a nearby street guitarist and the torrent of ice cold rain whisk you away, like life is operating at double the speed but you're too caught up in your own thoughts to care.

So caught up in your own thoughts that you don't spot the guy handing out flyers on the side of the street until your face is colliding with his shoulder.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

The guy lets out a groan as you helplessly watch his flyers flutter to the ground like autumn leaves, disintegrating on the rain dampened street.

"Does nobody look where they're going any more? My boss is going to kill me..."

The guy gets to his knees and starts grabbing as many flyers as he can by the handful.

"I'm so sorry, at least let me help?"

You hear him sigh deeply but he doesn't stop you when you drop down beside him.

You stamp on a flyer before it can be whisked away by the breeze. It's ruined. The rain makes the ink bleed into a black blotch in the center of the sodden paper, but if you squint you can just make out the barely legible print.

Live Classical Piano - 7:30 - 9:30 Every Wednesday At The Coffee House!

A throat clears, shaking you back to reality, and a nimble hand thrusts towards you, palm up, waiting for you to deposit the pile of flyers you collected.

"Just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart? Some of us have a job to do."

Shame heats your cheeks. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'll pay for these —"

Its then, as you let your hood fall down, that the boy stiffens. You look up slowly, meeting a widened pair of piercing grey eyes for the first time. The very same eyes you haven't been able to get out of your head all week.

"Wait...Yoongi?"

It's him. He's here? A coincidence surely but it sure as shit doesn't feel like one.

Just seeing him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Yoongi blinks a few times, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he's ripping the flyers from your slackened grip and grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you behind him to the side of the street where you're just out of view from passerby's.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He deadpans.

You take in the way his mint hair clings damply to his forehead, shirt darker in places where droplets of rain soak into the fabric. He's wearing one of those traditional pianist outfits with the funny tuxedo jacket and a little black bow tie strung around his neck that looks like it came from a bad Beethoven Halloween costume. It catches you off guard. No wonder you didn't recognise him before. Not exactly hip hop.

"What are you doing here?"

Yoongi glances over his shoulder warily. "Look, you can't tell anyone you saw me here okay? Did Namjoon send you?"

"What? No--?"

"Just leave, Y/N. Before someone sees you here and tells your precious brother that you've been hanging around with scum like me." He spits, drops your arm and starts in the direction he came from.

"Yoongi, wait!" You blurt, throwing your hands up in frustration. He freezes."Can we...can we just talk?"

Yoongi nearly does a double take. He's usually full of jibes but this catches him off guard. "Talk?"

He backtracks, though you notice the way he keeps a safe distance between you. It feels silly considering how much...closer you were just a few days ago. You wonder, as his eyes look you up and down, if he's thinking about it too. If you crossed his mind as much as he crossed yours.

"Listen, I don't have time for this, I need to go get some more of these flyers..."

Your heart drops, embarrassed for even entertaining the idea that he would want to see you again.

"Please?"

He hesitates. You're sure he's going to blow you off again but then his eyes fill with something scarily close to concern. "Shit, you're shivering."

Your hair hangs in heavy tendrils around your face, droplets of cold rain caressing your cheeks. Your knees knock, arms wrapped around the damp hoodie clinging to your torso to retain some warmth.

Yoongi shrugs off his jacket, despite the way his own teeth chatter. "You're going to catch your death dressed like that."

You stand there dumbly as he holds it out to you. He kicks a stone with the toe of his sneaker awkwardly when you finally wrap it around your shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want to see me again." It's almost accusing but you're sure you hear a trace of a pout in his voice.

"I...I didn't want to." Yoongi looks up. "But I think we should talk about you know...us."

Yoongi bites his lip, like he's having an inner debate. Like he's about to do something he knows he shouldn't.

"Fine. Let's talk. I, uh, guess I have some things I need to say to you too." He scratches the back of his neck. "But not here. Could I—would it be weird if we got coffee or something?"

Definitely weird. That's what you should say. But you don't.

"Okay."

You don't miss the way Yoongi's cheeks turn a little red.

--

The coffee shop Yoongi takes you to is a quaint little place, definitely not the sort of establishment you expected rough-around-the-edges Min Yoongi to frequent with its exposed brick walls and mint green espresso mugs with smiley faces on the side that give it a somewhat cosy appeal.

"I work here," He explains when he sees your eyes roaming. "Needed some extra cash."

You nod. Makes sense. The smell of pumpkin bread and coffee beans is still a welcome relief from the bitter chill outside.

The guy at the counter nods in greeting when Yoongi approaches, already grinding up coffee like he knows his regular order. Yoongi flashes him a tight smile. You figure they know each other, not that Yoongi seems the type to mingle within barista social circles but then again he is full of surprises today.

They share a few hushed whispers, staring not so subtly in the direction of where you sit hunched in one of the corner booths, but you just ignore it by watching a rain drop crawl down the window with rapt attention.

Words barely pass between you and Yoongi until you're both seated, him with a coffee you learn he takes black and you with a much too sugary frappe which you take to stirring with your straw nervously, chin in palm.

It's Yoongi who finally breaks the silence.

"What are you thinking?" He looks at you expectantly over the rim of his mug. For some reason it makes you nervous.

Guilt niggles at your repose. The cafe is alive with indistinguishable chatter, a coffee machine whirring loudly nearby. In reality, you merely blend in to the hubbub. But as you watch Yoongi fiddle with the rings on his fingers in anticipation of your response it's like a hush has fallen and all eyes are on you. Judging, like they know how wrong it is for you to be here.

He's been the only thing on your mind all week but now you're here in front of him it's like your mind is blank.

"Did you tell anyone?"

Yoongi blinks. "Namjoon's secret? I said I wasn't going to say anything—"

"No. Our secret. Us..." It feels foreign, referring to Yoongi and yourself as a unit. You hate to admit it makes your heart beat a little faster. "Namjoon knows."

Yoongi's coffee cup clatters to the table and words rise like bile in your throat, everything you've been bottling up inside tumbling out before you can stop it.

"Namjoon knows! He found out about us somehow and now everything has gone to shit and...I shouldn't even be telling you this! God I'm an idiot! I just don't know what to do—"

Your wailing is interrupted suddenly by a warm hand covering your own. Yoongi's hand. The touch is gentle, comforting, something about the squeeze of reassurance it provides calming your hyperventilating. It feels right.

Why does it feel right?

Yoongi must misinterpret the puzzled look you flash him as a warning he's crossing a boundary because he retracts his arm jerkily, a flush creeping up his neck.

He glosses over the weird moment hastily.

"Slow down, go back. He knows?" There's a lilt of surprise to his voice. Either he's a really good actor or he is just as panicked as you by this news. "And you think I told him?"

"Well, not exactly. He knows some of it — not everything! — he thinks that I just spoke to you after the show...I assumed you would have filled in the blanks by now."

Yoongi laughs breathily. Relieved. It flummoxes you. Shouldn't he be satisfied that his plan to get under Namjoon's skin was a success?

"Y/N, there were hundreds of people at the gig, anyone could have seen us. Jimin and Hoseok probably told him. You act like I tried to seduce you just to get revenge, or something." He gulps back the last of his coffee and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before his expression suddenly turns serious. "You don't think that right?"

"Isn't that exactly what you did?"

Say no.

Yoongi opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He doesn't deny it.

Something in your chest twists with disappointment. It scares you shitless and you know you have to end this — whatever this is — before there's no turning back.

"Look, it — we — were a stupid mistake okay? I need to know that you're not going to use this against him. It would kill him."

"Mistake?" Yoongi's face drops. "Didn't I say you could trust me?"

It sounds somewhat pained, like he wasn't expecting you to think so lowly of him. His eyes soften with a certain gentleness now and you almost feel bad for thinking they could ever look at you with sinister intentions.

"Do you regret it? What we did?"

You hesitate. You want to say no so badly. But that's not why you came here.

Pull yourself together!

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No." His eyes glint. You can't breathe. "Which is exactly why I'll never say a word. I don't play that way. Fair and square remember?"

You're speechless. All you can get out is a measly oh as you stare at the coffee in your cup and process.

"What did Namjoon say anyway?"

Your fingers find the patterns carved into the surface of the wooden table top, feeling the grooves as a distraction from the embarrassment flushing your cheeks. "He told me not to come back and find you."

A wry smile creeps across his face. "But you did?"

Even Yoongi is accusing you now? God, you played right into his hands. He's probably enjoying this. That you broke Namjoon's trust again, all for him.

The worst part is that you can hardly bring yourself to care. Sitting with Yoongi still feels deliciously indulgent — seeing his face again, feeling the heat of his body where your knees brush under the table finally satisfying a craving that had been growing inside you since that night in his studio.

"He doesn't control me."

He just nods. "I get that." His fingers tap in time with the sickeningly happy radio tune that plays overhead, eager to change the subject, like he's aware that he already said too much. "How is Namjoon anyway? You written him a song yet?"

Not allowed. If any information gets leaked about Namjoon's Mic Drop stage the first person he'd blame was you. You had to keep your lips tightly sealed.

You shrink back into your seat. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Okay, then." Yoongi throws his arms over the back of his chair, a cheekiness in his voice, like he's testing the waters to see how you'll react. "Ask me something instead. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Shoot."

That's allowed, right? Where's the harm. If it doesn't involve Namjoon then it can't hurt him...

"Okay..." You purse your lips, eyes travelling around the dimly lit coffee shop. "Why do you work...here?"

Yoongi nods to the stack of damp flyers beside him. Live classical piano. "I play piano here sometimes." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. It's kinda cute. "Needed some spare cash and this was the only place that could take me at such short notice."

"You play piano?"

He nods and you follow his gaze to the grand piano stood unoccupied in the corner. You imagine how Yoongi would look bent over the keys. How his fingers would move across the instrument with concentrated precision. How the tune would mingle with the warmth of the coffee shop on a cold evening.

"I didn't know you like classical music?"

"I don't. Not really." He cocks his head, finding the right words. "Namjoon has investors right? People who just throw money at him?" You nod, somehow ashamed. "Teaching me to play piano was my mom's investment in me. She always said it might come in handy some day."

You nod. "And do you have to wear that stupid costume every time?"

"This?" A snort leaves you when he shoots you a look, a shy smile finding the curve of his lips. "Don't mean to brag but it's a huge hit with the older ladies."

You can't help but laugh when he smugly tugs at the bow tie around his neck, unable to miss how his eyes light up. You share a smile that makes you feel light headed.

"I'd have to see it to believe it."

"Well, you know where to find me if you're ever bored and need a good laugh on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday evening." He shifts in his seat. "Or you could just come back to my place, y'know if you wanted to —" You frown, the easiness that had settled between you dissipating as you both sense the inappropriateness of his suggestion. "I know I shouldn't ask, it's just I have a piano and—"

For some reason the rational part of your brain taps out and your heart says fuck it.

"I'd love to."

--

"So, where do you live?" You ask when you finish your drink and nervously copy Yoongi who is already getting to his feet.

"Oh about that...I live in the apartment upstairs actually." He chuckles sheepishly."Cheap rent, you know?"

It takes you by surprise but you don't press.

"Oh. Right."

Yoongi extends a hand towards you. The thud in your chest gets faster when you slide your palm into his and he pulls you behind him to the foot the stairway you had disregarded upon entry, the distressed baby blue door at the top labelled RESIDENTS ONLY seeming strangely inviting.

Yoongi gestures for you to go first and you've barely ascended three steps before a voice rings out behind you, making you freeze like a child caught in a mischievous act.

"Use protection you two! And close the door so that Odengie's innocence isn't compromised this time!"

The barista from before rounds the corner, a tray of empty mugs in his left hand and a cloth for wiping down tables in the other.

You suppress a laugh. "Odengie?"

"His goddamn sugar glider—" He says it more to himself rather than in response to your query, flashing the tousled haired boy an exasperated look. "Really, bro?"

The other man either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "What? He's too young to learn how baby sugar gliders are made." His eyes suddenly flit to you and, as if remembering his manners, he deposits the cloth onto a nearby table and reaches a damp hand through the staircase to shake yours with a friendly smile. "I'm Jin, by the way."

You take it cautiously, wiping your now wet hand on the back of your jeans. "Nice to meet you?"

"Come on," Yoongi is flushed red as he pushes you up the rest of the stairs with a pressure at the small of your back. "We'll be back down in a minute, chill okay?"

Yoongi shoulders his way into the apartment, pulling you across the threshold alongside him, but not before you catch a glimpse of Jin's teasing grin poking around the staircase, words reaching your ears before Yoongi could slam the door shut in time.

"Oh, so it's a quickie? Have fun!"

A laugh escapes your lips, Yoongi pressing his back to the door with a sigh of relief. "Sorry about him. He's my roommate. Kind of came with the apartment, you know?"

You glance around at the small maisonette that unfolds before you curiously. It feels more like a dorm room, a mismatch pile of shoes piled at the entry way, a pair of beanbags substituting a couch surrounding a small gaming set up littered with empty pizza boxes you presume belong to Seokjin.

"Ah. He's part of the furniture then."

The other corner of the room is littered with an assortment of vinyls strewn out beside a pair of speakers and a record player, the needle still hovering over the grooves of an album by an artist you don't recognise. Yoongi's touch to the decor, you suppose.

"Guess you could say that. He's not so bad once you get over the uh...small rodents."

You trail behind Yoongi into what you assume is his bedroom, if the frameless mattress which lay on the floor in the corner beneath the window with sheets unmade and strewn across the floor messily was anything to go by.

He flicks on the set of fairy lights tacked to the wall, a surprisingly homely touch that makes you think Yoongi isn't as cold as you believe him to be.

Yoongi approaches a clothes rack stuffed with a variety of stage outfits. "Here." He pulls an oversized hoodie from one of the hangers, throwing it at you from across the room. "You're clothes are still wet. Wouldn't want to catch a cold. You can wear this until they dry."

"O-Okay." You stand there dumbly. He isn't expecting you to strip right in front of him, is he?

He seems to sense your hesitance, turning around so his back is to you with wide eyes. He plays it off by grabbing a selection of clothing for himself, shuffling past you with eyes trained to the ground. "I'll use the bathroom. Tell me when you're done."

You are soaked through to your underwear but you leave them on since Yoongi probably didn't have a spare pair of panties laying around you could borrow. The fabric of his hoodie is soft and warm when it slips over your otherwise bare skin and you breath in the woody scent that seems to embrace your entire body, ignoring the way it makes your head dizzy, and roll up the large sleeves to free your hands before calling to him that you are done.

When he re-enters the room, pulling a grey beanie over his head haphazardly to match the much more Yoongi appropriate outfit of a simple white tee and sweats, his breath hitches at your bare legs peeking out from the bottom of the garment. His lingering stare makes you hug your torso self consciously, eyes never leaving you even as he grabs the pile of sodden clothing you discarded earlier and lays them neatly over the radiator to dry.

You practically hear the way he swallows awkwardly when his eyes lock with yours, caught in the act. He's quick to lighten the mood.

"Well...here she is."

You turn as he moves across the room to the piano occupying the opposite wall, wood stained dark but bleached slightly in places by the stream of sunlight which washes its surface from the opposite window. The stool beneath it scrapes against the scuffed floor boards when Yoongi makes enough space to seat himself on top of the blue velour cushion.

"I know it's not much — nothing like you're used to I mean, but it makes music just the same."

He must take the way you hang back near the door frame as a sign of your distaste which couldn't have been further from reality; it's simply to allow you to study the way Yoongi sits with his back perfectly straight, fingers lingering over the keys like he knows the piano as well as an old friend. And, though you'll never admit it, the way your heart thumps at the thought of being in Yoongi's most private space.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's." The breath you suck in is slightly too harsh. "Like I said earlier, she liked to play, before she..."

Died. The word never passes between his lips but it sits heavy in the air like a weight.

Yoongi's eyes avert yours so you don't press any further, instead focusing your attention to the pattern of scratches embedded into the piano's lid, unable to help the way your fingers trace the coffee cup rings littering the surface like rugged halos. "It's beautiful."

The side panel is littered with lines, carved deeply into the wood with a penknife; a makeshift height chart like the one you had on the back of your bedroom door as a kid. Your drop to your knees to squint at the nearly illegible words scrawled next to the markings that ascend almsot to the top of the instrument.

Yoongi aged 3...Yoongi aged 4...Yoongi aged 5...

All the way until Yoongi aged 7 where they stop completely.

You frown but he lets out a soft laugh, somewhat pained. "That's when she got sick. I grew up quickly after that."

Straightening up, you swallow thickly, unsure what to say, so you just settle for changing the subject instead.

"So, what can you play?"

Yoongi fiddles with the open sheet music book on the piano stand. His fingers tremble slightly as he turns the worn pages before finally settling on a sheet that is lightly crumpled and ripped around the edges and coffee stained and ferociously dog eared at the corners. Tell tale signs that he had played this piece before, over and over again.

His favourite, you perceive.

Sure, he had literally fucked you into next week already but your hands get clammy at the knowledge that Yoongi feels comfortable enough to share such an intimate tidbit about himself with you. Music means a lot to him after all. Anyone can see that.

You catch a glimpse of the piece over his shoulder.

Romeo and Juliet - Love Theme.

Yoongi notices how you raise a brow at his choice.

"I know I said I don't like classical music but this arrangement is different. You know the story right?"

High school had given you enough general knowledge about Romeo and Juliet for you to nod in confirmation.

"It's like you can feel the passion they have for each other in every note, you know? Like nothing could ever come between them."

His words are so earnest they make your heart ache. You hadn't put him down as the hopeless romantic type.

"I mean not really. They still die in the end." You counter. He frowns.

"But only because of their fucked up families. It's their feud that comes between them in the end. This piece comes before all the shitty parts. If you play it over and over again it's like they never stop loving one another."

His hands fold in his lap and he sucks in a bashful breath, nose scrunching with embarrassment at his dramatic outburst. "It's stupid. I know. Forget I said it."

"No, no I understand completely. Maybe if they weren't so busy fighting they could have listened to their hearts. Right?"

"Right." He scoots across the piano stool, patting the empty space beside him with an encouraging look. "Sit."

Like a magnet you find yourself drawn to his side, shivering when his shoulder brushes yours. His arms hover over the piano, poised and relaxed, concentration etched into the hard lines of his face.

"Ready?"

You can only nod. And then he starts to play.

Yoongi's fingertips eagerly caress the keys of his piano, eyes lifting from the sheet music to gauge your reaction while his hands carry the melody on autopilot, the pretty silver rings he dons glinting with every movement. His neck is bent slightly, allowing his head to bob and sway along with the rise and fall of the rhythm, eyes screwing shut as the composition reaches its most pivotal sequence.

He's practically raking the keys now, pure passion and violent emotion splashing every inch of the room. You shut your own eyes, hands clutching the bottom of the stool until your knuckles whiten, like you might float away with the beautiful tune if you don't ground yourself.

When he said you could feel passion with every note he wasn't wrong. You could feel his passion clear as day.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, wrists coming to a standstill. All he can do is take in heaving, ragged breaths, body slumped down, spent with the sheer effort expelled in his performance. Oxygen is lodged in your own lungs as you take in how how his bangs stick to the beads of sweat prevalent on his forehead

You recover before he does, unconsciously fumbling around in your tote bag, hands curling around the Polaroid camera you bring everywhere just in case a photo opportunity arises.

They never usually do. Until now.

"Stay like that." The viewfinder raises to your eye and you snap a shot of him with precision, the soft click that emanates through the room making Yoongi's eyes snap open.

The picture dispenses from the camera, black square fading out to reveal a hazy image as you shake it back and forth. Yoongi, face relaxed, lashes pressed softly to the tops of his cheeks with a lazy smile.

It's the Yoongi you remember. Your Yoongi.

He smirks when you slide it into the back pocket of your jeans, cheeks glowing with a contentedness you hadn't seen for a long time. "You always did like taking pictures of me."

"Shut up."

When your hand tentatively closes over his where it still rests on the piano, it's his turn to shoot you a curious look. With a shaky breath you flip his palm, slotting your fingers together perfectly, and lean across the piano to press your lips against his.

His mouth is softer than you remember, not attacking with the rich taste of lust but rather caressing your lips gently, sweetly. Taking your time to commit each tickle of breath against your nose, each slide of his bottom lip between yours, to memory. Everything other than the dizzying sensation of his tongue tracing your bottom lip disappears. All your worries, reluctances, regrets,  just dissolving like the setting sun.

Everything feels safe here with him. Everything feels right.

It barely lasts a minute, not much more than a delicate brush really, but when he pulls back you are already breathless, immediately starved of the satisfaction that came from finally feeling him against you again, tasting the spearmint mixed with something so inherently Yoongi you didn't quite realise how much you were craving.

Yoongi sighs blissfully. You need more.

Your hands tangle in the front of his T-shirt but before you can pepper his mouth with a series of further eager kisses, his free hand plants on your shoulder and pushes you back carefully.

"About what you said the other night." His eyes are wide with concern, trained to your lips, resisting the urge to capture them again with all his self control. It made your heart flip. "I don't want to hurt you Y/N. We don't have to do this—"

"I want to. So bad." His thumb caresses your knuckles. "I trust you."

In that moment, it's true. You trust him more than you've ever trusted anything in the world.

"But Namjoon..."

His words fade out when you lean in for another reassuring peck. Namjoon's name falling from Yoongi's lips doesn't make your skin crawl like it usually did. In fact you feel nothing at the mention of your brother.

"To hell with Namjoon. I'm a big girl. I know what I want."

Yoongi grins, hand coming to cup your cheek tentatively, eyes crinkling with what you could only describe as liberation. "And what's that?"

Your eyes narrow in on his parted mouth again.

"You."

His eyes darken and then his hands are tangling in your hair and pulling your chest flush to his in a kiss that is far rougher than before. No more beating around the bush. Just passion as you crawl into his lap and kiss him like it's the first time — or perhaps, more accurately, the last time. Like the world will end if you part for a single breath.

Fingers find the hem of his shirt and you're pulling it up his torso greedily, heart beating a little faster when you feel his warm skin beneath your fingertips. His chest is softer than you expect, a perfect contrast to the strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back to his lips.

It's not long before you feel his pants fill out underneath you. The feeling is all too familiar, reminding you of how it felt to be above him like this in his studio. That night feels like a life time away as his hands grab your hips and press you roughly down onto his crotch.

You both groan out at the feeling, something intense, something primal, heating up between your legs as you circle his clothed length, want and need blending into one as your core dampens with every twist of your hips.

Yoongi breaks away from your lips with a gasp when your fingers reach between your body and find the sensitive head of his cock, a wet patch forming on his sweats. His eyes are shut, head thrown back against the piano top as he bites into his thumb to stop little moans tumbling from his swollen lips.

He shoots upright when you slide down his torso, hardwood cold against your bare knees, fingers fumbling with the strings of his pants. When you finally get them open and slip your hand beneath the waistband, Yoongi all but groans at the feel of your cool palm grabbing his hot cock skin on skin.

You shimmy his sweats around his thighs, mouth practically watering as you eye up his pulsing length, unable to resist stroking it firmly with your fist. A hand covers yours.

"Wait!" A strangled noise of agony rips from his chest when your grip loosens, desperate to buck up into your touch but managing to stay firmly planted to the stool in favour of gaining your consent. "Are you sure?"

You scoff teasingly. "Would I be on my knees if I wasn't?"

His laugh is breathy, half a moan as you pick up your pace again. "Just nervous — ah!" A soft kitten lick to the reddened tip of his cock has him flying forward, knuckles white as they grip your shoulder.

"Min Yoongi gets nervous?" The precum that coats your tongue is salty, makes you itch to take him into your mouth fully.

"Shut up." His breathing is ragged, hands hovering over your hair. "Didn't think this would happen again. Needs to be perfect — holy fuck Y/N."

You give no warning before you sink down on his length, his hands finally tangling in your hair and tugging lightly when your nose presses to his pubic bone, groaning around him when you feel the head of his cock pulsing in the back of your throat.

"So warm, shit."

You come up for air, lips wrapping around his head and enjoying the way his thighs trembled when your tongue runs teasingly along the underside of his cock. His hand pushes at the back of your head, forcing his length further down your throat than you're expecting until you gag around his girth.

"Shit, sorry."

The groan that follows doesn't sound very apologetic though. The visual of your drool coating his painfully hard length mixed with the sensation of your warm mouth engulfing him whole nearly has him blowing his load then and there, utterly fucked out and oblivious to the string of groans leaving his lips when you finally come up for air. Tears streak your cheeks and Yoongi wipes them away with his knuckle tenderly.

"God, look at you." He's breathless, amazed. "C'mere."

A hand cups your elbow, pulling you to your feet so he can connect your lips again, humming when he tastes himself on your tongue. His hands are all over you now as he wraps you in his arms and stumbles backwards your back is pressed to the mattress in the corner. It dips in the middle when he crawls over you, tucking away strands of hair that fan around your face like a halo before his mouth is on you again like he can't quite help himself.

A series of open mouthed kisses caress your jaw, then your neck, all the way down your chest. Yoongi's eyes flick up to watch your face, lips parted with want as his hands fiddled with the hem of his own much too big hoodie swaddling your body.

"Can I?"

Your hand threads into his hair encouragingly. "Please."

A gasp passes his lips when he finally pulls the fabric over your head, eyes following his curious calloused hands as they explore the expanse of skin exposed to him now you're left in just your bra and panties.

"So beautiful." He traces his fingers down your shoulders, down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach. The light and delicate touches have you shivering, writhing for more. Almost as desperate to feel him everywhere as he is to worship every inch of you.

His touch stops at the hem of your panties. You're already working on the clasp of your bra, a violent nod the only permission he needs to drag the fabric agonisingly slow down your legs, unhooking them from your ankles carefully.

When he looks back up you are completely bare, laid out beneath the stream of half-sun-half-moon bathing the room.

Yoongi pounces, lips wrapping around one of your nipples greedily, tongue swirling around the hardened bud until you're gasping his name over and over.

"Can't believe you're letting me see you like this."

Hands wrap around your thighs, legs falling open, the way he licks his lips as he takes in your glistening heat not going unnoticed.

Yoongi's head shakes in disbelief, mumbling words which sound an awful lot like so pretty and fucking gorgeous as his head dips and he continues his trail of earlier kisses, tongue laving over your inner thighs and edging ever closer to your aching core.

"W-wait." Yoongi freezes and comes up to meet your face. His breath is hot against your cheek, eyes scanning your face for hesitation.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He's frantic, swallowing nervously as his palms cup your face. "Want to take care of you this time. What is it? Tell me."

"I'm fine. More than fine." You brush your noses together. It makes him smile. "Just want to feel you, that's all. Now."

Yoongi lets out a dramatic sigh, voice high and whiny. "But I've been dreaming about how you taste for days, Y/N. Literally. Dreaming about it."

You don't mention how you've been replaying the visual of his lips wrapped around your clit and edging you over and over again since it happened, just stroke his cheek in mutual understanding.

"Too bad. You'll just have to wait until next time." His features light up at the promise of a next time. Another moment like this, just you and him.

His face falls into the crook of your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin teasingly as a hand trails between your legs. When the pads of his fingers circle your entrance you whimper, clit throbbing with want when his hand pulls away nearly as quick as it came.

The want only intensifies when he brings two of his arousal coated digits to his mouth with closed eyes, guttural moan vibrating your flush chests when he savours the taste of your arousal coating his fingers.

"Next time." He hums and you are sure you nearly came untouched.

"Need you. Now."

He wastes no time taking his achingly hard cock into his fist, placing a supportive hand on your hip as he lines himself up with your entrance. You whine when he drags the tip up and down your slit, giving some brief but much needed stimulation to your clit.

Before he can push inside though you place a hand on his chest to stop him. He doesn't have time to dote on you again though because without further ado you're whipping off the beanie that still sits snugly around his head, throwing it across the room with a smirk.

His eyes glint fondly. "Whoops."

The room has grown darker by now, only lit by the gentle sparkle of the fairy lights and Yoongi has to feel around in the sheets to find your hand. In the same moment he tangles your fingers together beside your face, he pushes inside with a gasp.

Unlike the first time in his studio, Yoongi is in no rush. He wants to savour it. He fills you slowly, so that you can feel every ridge of his length dragging against your velvety walls. When he finally bottoms out and your hips press flush together, you squeeze his hand. Tight. It's this small action that tells him everything he needs to know. Explains the funny feeling in your chest without ever saying the words.

Your legs wrap around his back automatically when his hips begin to rock, angling your body so that he hits so deep with every thrust it steals the breath straight from your lips. Arousal drips from your heat down onto the bed sheets, making each slide deliciously smooth.

"Yoongi I.." It almost slips from your lips. The deepest, darkest secret that you haven't quite admitted to yourself yet.

Yoongi just ups his pace, exchanging words for actions to show you he feels the same. Fucking you a little harder, a little deeper. More sincerely. It compensates for the words neither of you know how to say.

"I know." You feel so full, so warm when he places his forearms at either side of your head to press you into the mattress. "I know."

All the yearning inside you disappears. All that matters is you and Yoongi now, nails scratching up his back, his forehead pressing to yours so that your moans mingle together until you can't tell whose was whose any more.

With a fucked out moan against your lips he's spilling inside you, sending you over the edge with him, hissing as you clench tightly around his cock.

All thoughts are wiped from your mind. Apart from the sensation of his cheek pressed to your chest, hot breath against your collar bone. How you can't believe you lived in a world without Yoongi in it. How you never want to go without him again. How you don't think you can deny how Yoongi makes you feel anymore even if you tried.

The stars behind your eyes fade, and when you come back down, Yoongi is hovering over your body, lips parted and eyes blown out, mesmerised. He's sweaty and smiling and you can feel the way his heart beats in time with yours.

"You okay?"

"Never better." His smile stretches into a grin when your words slur together. "—'m so happy."

A soft, chaste kiss is pressed to your forehead and before you know it Yoongi is tangling your legs together and wrapping the sheets around your bodies, entwined as one.

Me too. You knew that's what he meant. You'd dwell on it another time. For now your eyes are falling shut, satisfied as you inhale Yoongi's scent on the sheets...

Before a blissful slumber could take you away, you're interrupted by a series of knocks against the bedroom door. Both you and Yoongi shoot upright, exchanging a puzzled glance.

"I thought you said it was gonna be a quickie. Come on man, I need to use the bathroom!"

Yoongi groans into the pillow.

"That's it. I'm getting a new roommate."

--

As the weeks go by you start spending less and less time at the Big Hit office, turning up late to your shifts or clocking out before they were up. The perks of being employed by your parents is that they can't fire you in good conscience, you suppose.

Instead you increasingly find yourself at Yoongi's apartment, writing lyrics at the piano when he was around (sometimes even when he wasn't) or down in the coffee shop, helping yourself to hot chocolate refills on your work breaks. Jin joked that you'd need to start paying rent soon.

Just like how you were able to pick apart each of the boys' influence on the apartment the first time you went there, your own presence was becoming ever apparent.

In the way you spilled sugar on the counter when making tea and always forgot to clean it up, much to Jin's dismay. How some of your own hoodies and pyjama pants had begun to smell like Yoongi's washing powder, ending up folded neatly in his laundry basket and stowed away on his clothing rack like they belonged there. The way his piano top was littered with open notebooks filled with your messy scrawl and pens with the caps lost and half empty mugs stained around the rim with your chapstick.

Yoongi seemed wary at first, cautious to let you get too comfortable around him, dropping you home late at night once the lights in your house switched out and you knew it was safe to go inside.

But eventually he started to crave the little things that reminded him of you, unable to stop the smiles which crept onto his face as he loaded the dishwasher with the mugs and carried you to bed when you fell asleep at the piano stool.

Your bed. That's what you'd taken to calling it now.

Yoongi hated to admit that he was weak. When he got up on stage he was Gloss, hard faced and brazen and ruthless. But here with you, the facade he tried to uphold seemed to crumble into nothing. And the worst part was that he loved it.

Even when he was performing at the club or practicing for the competition, his thoughts always ended up wandering back to you. There were times when your schedules clashed or it was too risky to see each other or times you were simply too exhausted once you got home, falling into bed as soon as you crossed the threshold. But the knowledge that you were always there waiting for each other became the only safe place he knew and that was enough.

Of course you still had to oversee Namjoon's Mic Drop stage, it was your job after all, but that never seemed to come up when you were together. Just watching movies on his laptop or laughing at ungodly hours while you filled each other in on anecdotes that happened in the time you were apart, retreating beneath the sheets when Jin banged on the wall because it was four in the morning so would you please shut the fuck up.

For the first time in a long time you felt happy. Like you belonged somewhere that was all your own. No more answering to Namjoon or your parents. Just your own heart. And it always seemed to lead you back here to Yoongi, straight into his arms.

And as much as you hated yourself for it, you could feel your resentment for Namjoon growing. You'd be damned if you let him take this away from you, like he'd taken everything else.

Eventually, you stopped crawling through your bedroom window like a goddamn teenager and your parents stopped questioning why you never came home anymore. The cracks between you became a chasm. And right now, Yoongi was the band aid holding you together.

--

When Yoongi returns home later than usual, he's not even surprised when he ascends the stairs and find you and Jin laid out on the bean bags, already tipsy on red wine and giggling at his disgruntled expression.

That is until you take in the weary lines that had etched their way into his forehead, how his eyes look sunken and puffy. How his hands tremble against your waist when you pull him into your arms, body swaying back and forth lightly in your grasp like he could topple over any second.

You know what overworked looks like — after all, you had tended to Namjoon plenty of times when he refused to stop at his limits, barraging through them instead, a habit Yoongi also seemed to possess.

Ordered to stay on bed rest, Yoongi slumps face down into his pillow, letting out a long groan of relief when the mattress cushions his aching limbs.

You're already tucking him in, half way to the door to prepare him a hot cup of honey and lemon to soothe the husk in his throat from rapping too aggressively when his arms loop around your waist and pull you down to snuggle into the crook of your neck contentedly.

"Yoongi, let me go." It's futile, his grip is firm and he is already kicking the sheets over your body and pressing his cheek to the left side of your chest where you're sure he can hear how your heart races, a pout evident in your voice. "I want to take care of you."

"Mmf you are.." Words already slurring with the beginnings of sleep, he smiles groggily when you fall slack in his grasp and press your cheek to the top of his head in defeat. "Stroke my hair please?"

As soon as your fingers tangle in his blue locks he lets out a sigh of relief, like he'd been waiting to feel the touch all day.

Watching his face relax as he drifts off, you bask in the warmth of fulfilment singing your very nerve ending and silently wish that you can stay like this forever.

Just you and Yoongi against the world.

At some point your own eyes fall shut.

--

You're awoken by the sounds of muffled sobs.

The dark room momentarily disorientates you, heart quickening as you realise you're not in your own bed. Eventually your eyes adjust to the blackness, taking in the piano stood sturdily in the corner, breathing in the scent lingering on the pillow beneath your cheek and you're washed with a wave of comfort.

"Yoongi?" You croak.

The sheets are ripped from your body as Yoongi's form shoots upright. His bare back is damp with sweat, visible in the moonlight creeping through the slanted blinds, mattress rocking slightly with every sob that wracks his frame.

"Go back to sleep." His voice is gruff , but forcibly so and you hear the tremor lurking below the surface.

You sit up beside him. His face is buried in his palms. The sight makes your heart ache.

"Are you okay?" You're still new to this. Sure you're tangled up in his sheets most nights but you're still learning the ropes, unsure how best to comfort him. You settle for gently patting his shoulder, wincing at how cold and distant the action feels.

"I said go back to sleep." When his face emerges from between his hands you see the tell tale tracks of tears streaking his cheeks. Even when he wipes his face with the back of his palm there's a steady stream of them dripping down his chin.

"Is that what you really want?"

Yoongi presses his mouth together in a tight line, eyes black and empty as he tilts his head back and takes a shaky breath. That's when he crumbles. "Please stay."

"Oh, Yoongi." It's barely a whisper, afraid that if you speak too loud he'll shatter into a million pieces. He's like a scared kid, knees hugged to his chest as he wipes the hot tears from his eyes with a hard rub of his knuckles.

Yoongi stiffens when you fumble under the sheets to find his hand. You think he might pull away as you link your fingers with his but to your surprise he pulls your interlocked palms into his lap and squeezes so hard you feel the circulation in your fingers cutting off. The way he chokes back another sob stops you from complaining though, already cupping his cheek and tilting his face towards yours with your free hand.

"Why are you doing this?" His eyes squeeze shut, fresh tears sliding down his face and doing nothing to hide the slight tinge of red beneath them that tell you he's embarrassed to be seen like this. Vulnerable, so unlike the hard faced Yoongi you had come to know.

"Because I want to." You squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back weakly. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Pressing his forehead to yours, Yoongi leans down and captures your lips between his own. I know, it says.

This is different to the way he usually kisses you. There's no hunger, no hands on your neck and your thighs that set you alight with desire. Just a sense of yearning, like he wants to be closer to you, the plump flesh of his lips slotting between yours like a perfect puzzle piece, slightly salty from his tears. It makes you ache all over, like you're somehow connected and sharing his pain.

He pulls away, sharp exhales tickling your face as he scans your eyes for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you're going to leave him here alone. This is side of Yoongi that you have never seen before. He always said he isn't good with words and you know better than anyone that he hated admitting that he needed someone. This was is his way saying he needs you.

And in that moment you feel a piece of your heart flutter into his hands.

"Nightmares." He mumbles, swallowing thickly and tipping his head back against the headboard, expression pained "Just nightmares."

"Want to talk about it?" You sit back next to him, and when he rolls his neck to face you. He looks unreadable again. Eyes void. You half think he's going to push you away, turn over and fall back asleep and leave you to stare at the ceiling alone with the silence.

But he doesn't. Instead he lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head at himself as he pulls you into his arms, stroking your cheek fondly when your head comes to rest on his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

"Why can't I say no to you?"

"Guess I have that affect on people."

He snorts lightly, the first proper reaction he'd given you and you're pleased at his amusement. Pleased you were able to comfort him somewhat.

Unspoken words cloak a heavy silence for what feels like hours, just tracing mindless patterns on his arm and listening to the way his heart slows to a normal pace beneath your cheek, grip around your torso never faltering. When his breaths dwindle to soft puffs against your temple you think he's already drifted off.

Until, "Do you remember when I convinced Namjoon to sign up for Mic Drop the first time. The day after my mom died?" His voice is gravelly, both with sleep and a sign of his withheld tears.

"Of course I do." You swivel in his arms to blink up at him curiously. Sure you remembered. After the funeral, your parents had taken Yoongi in — a repayment they called it. For helping Namjoon achieve his dreams. Of course, that was before you realised just how much Yoongi would help.

Yoongi became a part of the family for a short while. An extra seat at family dinners. Another pair of shoes by the front door. Another bed in Namjoon's room.

"Back then, I was too trusting. I thought that they wanted to help me...I thought that they saw me as their son." He spits the word with the bitterness of a man who was stripped of the title of 'son' before he knew what it really meant.

You think back to how Namjoon and Yoongi used to be. Joined at the hip, everyone used to say. Brothers.

"I think they did—"

"No." He stiffens. You bite your lip. "Namjoon never cared about me. He just saw me as a way to get to the top. And it worked."

You feel a pang in your chest.

"I'm sorry, he's your brother. I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

Yoongi almost turns away but you stop him by pressing your lips to his briefly. Telling him its okay. You understand.

"The nightmares." You say with an eagerness to change to subject before you could dwell on it too hard. Before you could admit to yourself that Yoongi was right. "You didn't say what they were about?"

"I'm getting there." He lets out a strained chuckle and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you shiver.

"The last time I saw my mother she said that she wasn't scared to die. She was just scared that she'd miss seeing me on the stage. She was the only one who believed in me." The next words come out choked. "She said that if she couldn't be there to see it then I needed to make as many goddamn people watch me lift that trophy as I could."

Mic Drop was never about the fame for Yoongi after all. It always ran deeper than that; a need not a want. A vulnerable promise left unfulfilled.

The realisation makes you blanch. All this time, all these years, you hadn't been able to see the real greed right in front of your eyes; your own brother.

The image of Yoongi, crumpled and broken on that fateful day all those years ago makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

The same anger flashes across his face now. "Namjoon took that from me. I don't care about the fans or the money or the trophy — none of that shit! He took my dream Y/N. Do you understand how that feels?"

You find yourself nodding, slowly at first and then with vigour as the dam inside you breaks and your own tears flood. "I do. I understand."

And you do. You understand why Yoongi is so determined to win Mic Drop. You understand why he hates Namjoon as much as he does. You understand how it feels to always fall second best to Namjoon, to be outcasted.

"I keep forgetting her face. I can't hear her voice in my head anymore." Yoongi's crying again now, heavy sobs no longer able to be contained. "But in the dreams she's so clear. The disappointment in her eyes, its so clear, Y/N." His words are interrupted by hiccups that leave him gasping.

"I'm sorry." You whisper once he calms. It's all you know how to say.

"Not your fault." He flashes you a watery smile, wiping away the tear on your cheek with his knuckle. It makes your heart flutter, even despite the guilt weighing on your shoulders.

You feel useless. It wasn't your fault directly but you couldn't help but feel like you wronged Yoongi. All of this happened right in front of your eyes but you were too blinded by Namjoon's broken promises to see it. All this time you had let Namjoon make you think Yoongi was the enemy.

"I'm here now." Hands plant on either side of his face, eyes meeting his. "I believe in you."

He doesn't need to say anything. The way he kisses you speaks louder than words.

All you can do now is hold him, tangling your legs with his and pulling the covers over your intertwined bodies, stroke his cheek with your thumb and pepper kisses to his strained forehead which relaxes beneath your affections.

"I'll make this right." You whisper into his hair after his eyes flutter closed and the sun starts peeking through the window, watching dust particles floating in a stream of light in the room's golden glow through lidded eyes. "I promise."

--

"I like this." Jimin nods enthusiastically along to the track playing through the headphones Namjoon placed over his ears. "Sounds like a hit to me."

Namjoon's face contorts into a scowl. He disagrees, obviously, if the disgusted shake of his head is any indication.

Mic Drop is just a few days away and Namjoon had decided to scrap his entire stage after Jimin scored a couple big last minute investors who suggested he do something new, something exciting. Something that pushed Runch Randa's limits.

It was a bold move, this close to the big day. But Namjoon was cocky, said that he had enough experience in the industry to win in his sleep. Practice was a waste of time anyway.

"Next one." He waves his hand, barely even glancing in your direction as you press a button that cuts off the track and makes another one start playing.

The bass is louder in this one and it makes Jimin startle backwards, the headphone jack slipping loose so the music plays through the speakers instead.

"Hoseok and I still need to put the finishing touches on this one but it's pretty catchy—"

Namjoon cuts you off with a sharp no, it was too upbeat for his Mic Drop performance. Said he needed something with grit, something that would make the judges feel something.

"Let me see that." He gestures for you to get up, slumping down into the chair you occupied and slotting himself beneath the studio desk to scroll through the open folder on the computer screen.

He skims through countless tracks, demoed and ready to be recorded at Namjoon's disposal — you were something of a writing machine, always scribbling down lyrics on receipts from the store or on the back of your hand and paired with Hoseok you were a dream team; he always seemed to find a beat that fit perfectly. Unfortunately Namjoon's straight face gives away his disinterest in any of them.

"None of these will work." Namjoon throws the keyboard down with a force that makes you wince, jaw tightening as he presses his knuckles to his eyes in frustration. "I'm going to fucking lose."

You are about to tell him to write the fucking track himself like everyone else if none of yours were good enough for him but Jimin flashes you a glance. Don't make things worse.

You settle instead for a hand on his shoulder. He tenses at your touch. It had been a while since you'd been in the same room for longer than ten minutes and when you take in the gauntness of his cheekbones you briefly wonder if he's been eating properly. He always did forget when you weren't around to remind him.

You suck in a breath to give you strength. "There must be one that you like."

His lips purse and he disgruntledly goes back to scrolling again, clicking on a couple titles that draw his interest. You and Jimin let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

"What's this?" Namjoon's eyes narrow as he presses play on a track that sends you flying forward, heart in your mouth and colour leaving your face as a song plays that you swore to never show to anyone.

Yoongi's song. The one you wrote after that night in his studio. Probably the best song you had ever written.

"That's not — I was supposed to delete that one." The heat in your cheeks as you push him aside roughly to wrestle with the pause button has you hiding behind your hair, as if he would somehow know this wasn't just an ordinary song. That it was a song about his enemy, for god's sake.

Namjoon's slaps you away from the computer, head bobbing to the beat and you fall back into your seat in defeat, fingers crossed behind your back that he would hate it as much as the others.

"I love it."

Oh no.

"This is the one!"

Shit shit shit!

"A-are you sure?" You're rambling now, words slipping out way too fast and Jimin seems puzzled at your lack of elation at Namjoon's decisiveness. "I'm sure I could write something much better if you just give me some more time—"

Namjoon's arms pull you into a tight embrace before you can finish, your nose ending up smushed against his chest as he practically vibrates with excitement. Your body goes stiff, hands dangling at your sides awkwardly. Considering Namjoon's coldness towards you as of late his sudden display of affection takes you by surprise. Mostly because despite your physical closeness it only makes you feel even more distant from your brother.

A sigh of relief escapes when he finally sets you free, only to be replaced with pure horror as you watch him stick a USB drive into the computer and load up the song before sliding it in his back pocket with a grin while you have no choice but to stand there helplessly.

"I'm totally gonna win!" His change in attitude is abrupt but seems to soothe Jimin who nods enthusiastically. You feel sick. "I can't wait to see the look on Yoongi's face when he hears this shit."

The smirk on his face washes you with dread. If only he knew.

Yoongi was right. Secrets always find a way to come and bite you in the ass.

--

Every rap of your knuckles against the run down studio door seems to echo ominously through the alley like an omen.

"Y/N?"

As soon as the bolt wrangles across and the wooden panel flies open to reveal a disgruntled Yoongi, a warmth seems to thaw through the icy evening chill that, along with your nerves, is making your knees knock together.

His chest is warm against your cheek when he pulls you into his arms, the smell of cologne and black coffee consuming your senses. It's enough to make your tense limbs fall slack, curling into his firm frame instinctively. Finally. You can breathe again.

"Hey." He mumbles sweetly against your temple, a trace of a smile in his voice like he was happy to see you. You silently wonder if he'll still be so happy once he hears what you have to say.

The studio is basked in darkness, the contours of his face barely visible in the blue glow emanating from his desktop monitor. There's a dent in the cushion of the adjacent chair, Yoongi's hair sticking up at the back where the pair of headphones slung around his neck had sat moments ago.

"I can go if you were working, wouldn't want to interrupt." As the words are leaving your lips you cross your fingers, selfishly hopeful that he would send you away and you could avoid the conversation that was about to follow. Blame it all on circumstance, leave saying that you at least tried.

But that would be keeping a secret. It would make you just as bad as the rest. And the thought of him finding out from someone else was enough to make your palms sweat and enough to keep your feet planted against the carpet determinedly.

Yoongi's hands find you like he can't bare to keep them away, dragging you across the threshold without hesitation. "S'fine. Work better with you here anyway." He smiles and you try to return it but your lips are pressed into a permanent line, like they're scared the daunting words you have to say will come spilling out before you were ready -- if you ever would be ready. As you slump into a chair and watch him wheel another one around to face you with his arms slung lazily over the back, you realise there is no going back.

Considering the countdown to Mic Drop was nearing its end, less than twenty four hours to go before Yoongi would be stood opposite Namjoon on stage in front of thousands, he looked the epitome of relaxation, unlike the nerves in your chest making you jitter.

"Jin's on his way with takeout, I would've asked him to get more if I knew you were coming but I'm sure we can share— babe, are you alright?"

Babe. The endearment had started slipping from his lips frequently recently. At first he tried to cover it up with nervous laughter but now he was brazen, enjoying the way the word tasted on his tongue. It would be so easy to force a smile, to push "the right thing" to the back of your mind and let the selfish part of your heart accept his affections, even knowing you're about to hurt him.

But the clock ticking away on the wall sounds deafening with every beat of silence that follows, twisting the rings on your fingers until you could no longer distinguish the sound from the sinister thrum of your heart.

You can't hold it in any more.

"I need to tell you something." It comes out a hoarse whisper, nearly unintelligible beneath the stream of hip hop from the hifi system in the corner.

"What is it?" Yoongi's concerned eyes never leave you as he reaches over to switch it off, the room now draped in a shroud of quiet. The reality of the situation seeps into every dark corner and right into your bones.

"It's about us. Kind of."

Yoongi rolls closer, stopping your teeth from nibbling your cuticles by slotting his fingers between yours like a perfect puzzle piece. It seems to ground you, like you're filled with helium and he's the weight stopping your feet from floating off the ground. For a second you think everything will be okay. Nothing, not even this betrayal, could come between what you had.

"Did Namjoon find out?" Even in the dim light you see the panic stricken raise of his brows. When your head shakes in a violent negative they smooth back down, relieved, as if nothing you could say next would be worse than that. No matter how hard you try to meet his eyes you can't.

His hand squeezes gently then. You muster up the courage to squeeze back. Perhaps it would soften the blow that was about to follow.

"His song. The one I wrote for Mic Drop...it's about you. I thought you should know. Before you hear it for yourself."

Nothing but an immeasurable silence followed. "Oh."

Yoongi is unreadable, almost as if he didn't hear the words hanging like heavy storm clouds over your heads. You expected him to be angry, to shout -- even cry, maybe. Not knowing how he was feeling was even worse than any scenario you had imagined. Made you feel like you were back to square one and he was shutting you out of the window into his soul you'd worked so hard to wriggle through.

For a second you think the sudden cold against your palm is a result of the numbness coursing through your veins like you were dunked in ice water, but then you see his hand retreat to his lap, eyes wide and staring at it in disbelief like he'd been scalded.

"I...I don't understand." He sounds choked, face contorting with pain. Like it does when he wakes thrashing in the night with a bad dream. Unlike those times though, he doesn't levitate towards you for comfort, just stares at you vacantly like he's far, far away despite being physically close enough for your knees to brush.

"It was written after the first time we...y'know...here--" You glance around, convinced your mind is playing tricks when you see a vision of you in Yoongi's lap across the room, lips attached like nothing else in the world mattered. It feels far away and out of reach when the real Yoongi gets to his feet, creating a distance between you that is foreign, his form staggering across the room so that you could see the way his back tensed beneath his t-shirt when he grips the edge of his desk for support, processing.

"I don't understand."

"I was emotional. It just happened--"

"No. What I don't understand is why you're letting him perform it?" Fists send a stack of sheet music flying to the ground. His lip trembles, face red, with anger or affliction, you can't tell which.

"Yoongi--" You reach for him, fingertips barely grazing his arm before he's smacking you away with a violent shake of his head. He'd never resisted you before. Not even in the beginning.

"You expect me to just sit back and listen to Namjoon of all people rapping the lyrics my girlfr-- that you wrote dissing me? This has to be a fucking joke."

"It's not that kind of track!" You hug your body pitifully. It's the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling apart as his mouth spits a venom that makes your heart shatter. His eyes fill with one thing. Betrayal. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't keep choosing between you anymore, Yoongi. He's my brother."

"And what am I, huh?"

Every second that passes, every stutter or attempt at explanation that leaves your mouth makes Yoongi crumple. You see it in the way his adam's apple bobs, how his shoulders slacken.

For some reason you can't open up. Tell him he means more to you than anyone ever had. That you thought your heart might really break and bleed out on the carpet if he didn't feel the same way.

Instead you settle for, "Why are you so mad? It's my job! I had no choice."

Without warning he's rushing at you, trembling palms capturing your face and pressing his forehead to yours. His breaths shake, chest heaving as he battles internally with the words flying from his lips like a ghostly breath across yours.

"Because I fucking love you, Y/N! Can't you see it? I fucking love you and your bastard of a brother always finds a way to ruin things between us!"

His admission stuns you, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over in a silent stream down your cheeks.

He loves you. He loves you.

"Yoongi--" Words just won't come. Nothing feels right.

Because you love him too. It had taken you this long to admit it to yourself but it was clear now. Every breath, every beat of your heart, every fucking song you would ever write was for him. It scared you before but now, stood here in front of him, you know it's true.

Something hopeless niggles at the back of your head, stops you from spilling everything to him. If he loves you, how can he expect you to choose?

If words couldn't make him see the truth then you'd just have to show him the only way you knew how. Straight from your heart.

You're crying as you dig around in the bottom of your bag to retrieve a USB, pressing it into his curled fist firmly and begging him with your eyes to understand. "Just listen to the song. Please. It'll explain everything. I promise."

You begin to back up and his hand shoots out to stop you, pulling you roughly into his chest which only makes you cry harder, tears creating a wet patch on his T-shirt.

"Please don't leave me. Not again." It's a fragile whisper.

It's all too much.

"I can't choose any longer, Yoongi. This has to end."

With one last look at his crumpled face you flee from his studio with eyes just as watery as the first time you'd walked down this very alley. Except this time it takes all of your strength to resist running back into his arms.

Yoongi can only stand there and watch you go, the USB hot against his hand.

This has to end. The words make his chest burn and he hates it. Hates feeling weak. You always make him feel so fucking weak.

If he can't have you then he had no choice but to do everything in his power to make sure he got the next best thing.

Suddenly it all seemed clear. Yoongi knew what he had to do.

--

The arena is almost desolate when you creep inside.

Just a sea of empty seats stretching out from both sides of you where you sit in one of the stands, nibbling the skin around your thumb and watching Namjoon pace the stage below.

It's gone midnight by now. Most of the crew went home hours ago. Not Namjoon though. He stayed to practice some more. Said he couldn't get the choreography quite right.

You tried going home but you couldn't get the fight out of your head. Everything reminded you of Yoongi and your thoughts started to wander. Did he hate you? Was he listening to the song right now? Why hasn't he called? Why is your own bed not as comfy as the one you shared with Yoongi?

It all got too much eventually. Something told you that you weren't welcome at the apartment so you ended up heading towards the only other place you knew, surprised to find your brother had the same idea.

A single spotlight illuminates the stage as Namjoon twists his body in time with the one, two, three, four he unconsciously mumbles under his breath, face contorted with a stark concentration that flits to impatience when his foot slips and he misses the beat. Again. It just about sends him over the edge.

"I can't do this anymore!" A microphone squeals and hits the ground with a thump. It reverberates through the arena, your hands flying to your ears as you watch Namjoon let loose all his anger on an innocent amp stand before collapsing into a heap at the edge of the stage. "Fuck this shit!"

You're flying down the stairs to his aid before he can do any serious damage to the stage equipment — or worse, to himself.

Namjoon scoffs when he hears the stage creak under your feet. "Nice of you to show up."

It stings. You snap.

"What happened to you, Namjoon?" You look at his sunken cheekbones, his curled fists, the blackness behind his eyes. "I don't even recognise you anymore."

He just sniffs and says nothing. The distance between you feels bigger than ever.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

A secret? Since when did Namjoon abide by a policy of honesty?

He takes your shocked silence as a yes.

"I'm calling first thing and dropping out of the competition."

Your world stutters to a standstill, breath knocked out of your lungs.

Dropping out?

"Shit Joon...if this is about Yoongi—"

He waves you off.  "No. This is about me."

You can't breathe. This can't be real. "I don't understand..."

"I've made up my mind. I can't do this any more. I used to love being up here you know?"

You follow his gaze, out over the empty arena. The last time you were here every seat was filled. You were down there, part of the crowd, packed into the cramped space with barely enough room to breathe.

Imagining how it must feel to be up here comes easy. If you close your eyes you can hear the screams, feel the body heat. Smell the sweat and the anticipation. See thousand faces looking up in awe. At you. It makes your blood run hot.

You much prefer being up here, you decide.

Namjoon brings you back down. "Now it just feels like a chore. I look out and all I see is disappointed faces. I can't pretend for them anymore."

"People travel miles to see you Joon! No one is disappointed."

"Not the fans. They love me. Well, Runch Randa, at least." He cracks a half smile. "It's me whose disappointed. In Kim Namjoon."

You always thought your brother was sure of himself. He's cocky, confident and above all fearless. It's his biggest strength (and his most irritating quality sometimes) but it's what you always admired most about him.

Clearly you didn't know your brother as well as you thought you did.

You bite your lip. "Why?"

He turns to face you, leaning back into his arms while he searches for the right words and, little to your knowledge, gathers the courage to confide in you.

"Because I re-entered Mic Drop for all the wrong reasons. I just wanted to prove myself, you know? Win for real this time, not just by default." He swallows. "But then I saw Yoongi perform. And to be honest? I saw you. I saw how much you care about the music. How you come alive when you're writing lyrics or when you're in the studio." His smile is woeful. "Im supposed to feel like that. But I don't. I never did. It's like I'm always asleep, y'know?"

You did know. Every time you lifted a camera. Every time you pressed the shutter and snapped another shot of Namjoon on stage you felt your soul grow exhausted.

It makes the distance between you and Namjoon close a little. For once you understand each other and you don't have to hide how you feel any more.

"I can't stop thinking that it's your name the fans should be screaming. Not mine. They deserve better than me."

"But you're the best performer I know!" You rush. It always seemed like he wanted to keep you out of the spotlight at all costs. "Why now?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm a selfish person, Y/N. I thought I was protecting you from... all this." He gestures around him. "The late nights and the paparazzi and the criticism and a fucking manager on your back all the time." His eye roll makes you snort, sharing a brief smile at the image of hardworking Jimin mumbling into his headset like a man posessed.

He's quickly serious again though. "Fame comes with a price. But I realize now that the price is worth it if your hearts in the right place and...what I'm trying to say, Y/N, is that mine never was."

You let your chin fall into your palm. Huh. "So that's the big secret?"

"Actually...there's something else." He shifts nervously. "I know about you and Yoongi."

You freeze, scrambling to your knees with wide eyes. "Wait, Joon, let me explain—"

"Let me finish!" Namjoon brushes you off with a breathless laugh, nodding to himself, as if finally coming to a solid conclusion about coming clean when his eyes meet yours. "He's in love with you."

This time it feels like the whole world goes into overdrive. You forget how to breathe.

"What...how...huh?"

It's Namjoon's palm squeezing your knee reassuringly that brings you back down.

"He always was. Even back before things got messed up." A deep breath. Something was coming, you could tell by the way his eye twitched nervously. "That's why me and Yoongi fought. That's why I...I lied and said that I wrote the song the night of the Mic Drop final...accused him of plagiarism—" Your mouth gapes. "I know! I know. Don't look at me like that. I can see the irony."

It all makes sense now. She's a part of this, Namjoon, whether you like it or not.

The reason Namjoon sacrificed his best friend wasn't for fame but for your sake?

You want to fly at your brother, scream at him for keeping this from you for so long. For turning you against Yoongi. For keeping you from the only person to make you feel safe. Feel Happy.

But his eyes are void of anything other than regret and you can tell his betrayal had been playing on his mind all these years.

"Point is, I didn't want you to get hurt." He shuffles awkwardly, not knowing what to do with your silence. "That's not an excuse, I know. Do you hate me?"

"No." Your voice sounds small. His chest heaves with relief. "I just wish you had been honest with me before. Saved us a ton of trouble."

"I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was a shitty brother in the end anyway."

It's strange. Even after all the fights and the resentment and the goddamn secrets, you don't think Namjoon is a shitty brother. Sure, his actions and intentions were shitty there was no denying it. But now it's like the puzzle pieces finally click into place and the full photograph comes into view, crystal clear.

All this time, he just wanted to protect you, when you should have been protecting him. He was hurting too, you just never knew it.

"It's not too late, Joon. Just be happy for me okay? I think..." If Namjoon plucked up the courage to tell you his secrets then it was only fair that you did too. "I love him too."

A pinkish tinge caresses your face when you finally admit it, both out loud and to yourself.

You love Yoongi. And now all the cards are on the table there's nothing holding you back from it.

Now you just need to tell Yoongi.

"I know. You think I don't know who that song is about?" The grin that spreads across Namjoon's features is sincere."And I am. Happy for you, I mean."

Now the truth is out in the open it feels like your wounds are already beginning to heal. You place your hand over his and squeeze it tight. It was time to forgive.

A thought suddenly strikes you. "So what are you gonna do now?

Namjoon fumbles in the back pocket of his jeans, thrusting something towards you. A polaroid picture. The same photo you'd seen at Yoongi's studio.

He kept it, too?

"This kid." His finger jabs at the innocent face of a younger Namjoon, arm wrapped around the shoulders of his best friend. "I didn't get enough time to live as him before I became Runch Randa. I think it's time to just live as Namjoon for a while."

"But what about Big Hit? It'll fall apart and mom and dad will kill you—"

"No it won't. They have you. I already talked to them, in fact. There's a stage with your name on it right here." He pats the ground. "If you want it, that is."

You blink, stunned. You? "I...I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you." Namjoon says. "And I'll be cheering you on from the front row."

You'd have to think about it long and hard but you can't help the grin that appears on your face. Things were going to be okay.

An urge rises in your chest to tell Yoongi this news. To see the way his face would light up as you started the journey to following your own dreams, like he always said you should.

You and Yoongi were going to be okay.

"Hey! Maybe I should try photography now I have some free time." Namjoon tugs at the camera strap around your neck, lifting his eye to the viewfinder and laughing when you cover the lens with your hands. "Damn I'm kinda good!"

You bump his shoulder teasingly, the belly laughter that spills into the arena feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

You're only interrupted by approaching footsteps. Jimin bursts into the arena.

"Namjoon," he pants. "I have some bad news."

--

It's compulsory for all competitors to attend the crowning ceremony. Even those who get disqualified.

RUNCH RANDA BLACKLISTED FROM COMPETING IN FUTURE HIP HOP COMPETITIONS AFTER PLAGIARISM SCANDAL SURFACES.

Just one of the devastating headlines that hit the media after the judges panel received an anonymous tip in the form of a USB stick that exposed Namjoon once and for all. The same USB that you pressed into Yoongi's hands just hours before Namjoon's disqualification.

RAPPER GLOSS TO SNATCH MIC DROP TROPHY IN SHOCKING REVENGE FOR HIS BRUTAL DEFEAT.

Namjoon reads it aloud in the back of the car. He laughs at the end but it does nothing to lighten the mood.

The windows are tinted but you can still see the hoards of fans lining the streets, eyes steeped in betrayal.

You should hear the way they boo as your brother drives past. You should hear the way they chant his name instead.

Yoongi! Yoongi! Yoongi!

But you don't. You don't hear anything. You don't feel anything. All you can think of is the same three words, throbbing in your chest over and over again.

I love you.

Did he mean them at all?

"Y/N? Did you hear me?"

"Hm?" You look up. Namjoon's staring at you with concern.

"Your phone's ringing again."

It's no surprise when you pull out your phone and see a contact picture of yourself and Yoongi gracing the screen. He's been calling all morning. It takes every strength inside you to tap the red decline button.

"Aren't you gonna talk to him?"

Another call lights up the screen.

"Not like this."

With trembling fingers you shut your phone off all together.

--

Paparazzi cameras flash brazenly as you step out of the black company car, following Namjoon with your hood pulled tightly round your face. A hoard of body guards usher you through a back door to the arena. The main entrance is reserved for notable guests only, you learn.

While Namjoon's presence usually makes the room buzz with an electric energy, there's no excitement when he enters now. An awkward hush falls like a shroud as he elbows his way past pitiful stares. It's like someone died. In a way it's true; there's no trace of Runch Randa in Namjoon's hunched stance. Here, the dead still walks for everyone to see.

Jimin's waiting by the stage door. No words are exchanged as he slips passes into your hands. Namjoon's has a big red strike through the word TALENT, "guest" scribbled all too generously below it to match your own.

It's nearing show time. They're just waiting for you to take your seats, Jimin says, though you barely hear him. You're too busy imagining what you would do if you bumped into him right now, heart pounding whenever you catch a glimpse of blue or hear a laugh you're convinced you recognise.

Deep down you know exactly where you have to go to find him. To find Yoongi.

"I'll join you in a second, okay?"

Namjoon looks nervous, the first time you've ever seen him with such a severe case of the jitters. His smile is empty when you rub his forearm reassuringly. "Don't be too long. If I'm gonna do this I want you by my side."

You manage a smile. "Always."

With that, Namjoon takes a deep breath and pushes out into the life of the arena and you find your feet numbly carrying you down back corridors you know by heart until you reach his dressing room.

Your heart is blind, you think. Even now the shattered fragments ache for him, beat a little faster knowing he's just behind this door.

Why can't you go back to hating him, just like you did before? Deep down you know it's because you never really hated Yoongi. You don't think you ever could.

Forgiving him, though? Some wounds never heal, no matter how badly you want them to.

You pause outside the door. The stupid gold star that used to be there has been scraped off, replaced with a new name tag. Gloss. You put your ear to the wood. Nothing.

A deep breath and you find the handle. Should you burst in and give him a piece of your mind? Knock and enter politely? You can't help but scoff. Shouldn't he be the one coming to find you?

He calls your name before you can do either.

"Y/N?"

Fuck. Is hearing his voice supposed to hurt this bad?

You don't know what you're expecting when you turn around. Something different about him perhaps. A sign that he isn't the person you had grown to know. Grown to love.

But there he is. All messy blue hair and bitten lips and eyes a little red around the edges. Your Yoongi.

Your arms curl around your body like a band aid, holding you together. You can't crumble. Not now.

He looks stony but his eyes flicker with tender remorse when he sees the tears staining your cheeks.

His hands reach for you instinctively. The same hands that make love to his piano in the shitty apartment above the coffee shop. The same hands that could make you fall apart with even a delicate touch. You want to run into them so bad it hurts. But now they're stained red with betrayal and he chokes when you recoil.

Seconds feel like hours as you just stand there taking each other in like it's been years. It's only been a day or two. Maybe three? You can't remember. They all rolled into one meaningless blur of angry tears and insomnia.

You had a whole speech prepared for the moment you finally faced him again. But there are no words that feel right. You just need to know. If he meant every touch and every inside joke and those three words that make your heart soar despite how badly you want to hate him. And there's only one way to find out.

"Why did you do it?"

Your voice sounds timid and scared, like you feel. He winces.

"Y/N, let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Your voice raises shakily."How you lied to me? How you used me?"

He rushes towards you and it takes all of your strength to draw back, especially when his eyes look so frantic, so desperate. Like he's having one of his nightmares. It tugs at your heart because this time the nightmare is real and you're living in it.

"It's not like that—"

"Did you ever even want me? What about all that fair and square bullshit you told me huh?"

"Of course I wanted you Y/N...want you." His eyes fill with pain. "This wasn't meant to happen. I know how this looks but I just panicked!"

You rush at him, fists curled like that day in his studio except this time he doesn't stop you when you start hitting his chest, vision blurry.

"He was going to pull out! Namjoon was going to let you win! So that I could -- we could be happy!"

"What I...I don't understand?" His mouth gapes, processing. "But you didn't..." He swallows, like remembering is painful. "When I confessed, you didn't say it back. I thought we were over! I thought I had nothing to lose, Y/N. He had already won..."

You remember your words. I can't do this anymore. A misunderstanding that would never have happened if he just—

"Did you even listen to the song?"

His face drops at the mention of the song. "No." He looks like he might cry. "I was angry! I...I acted impulsively. I never got the chance..."

You bared your soul in that song in ways you never thought you could. He wasn't supposed to find out how you felt about him this way. Not here, when you're falling apart and there's nothing you can do to stop it. But it all comes tumbling out before you can change your mind.

"I wrote that song because I love you, Yoongi!"

Silence. He has to grip the wall to steady himself.

"Y-you love me?"

"I love you." The words feel indulgent on your tongue and even now as they hang heavy in the air and you're overcome with an indescribable combination of grief and longing, you mean them with every bone in your body.

You rush at him. You can't help it. Can't resist how your head falls into his chest and how you cry harder when you breathe in his scent one last time, sobs muffled by his hoodie. But he hears them, you know he does, because his hands are trembling when they pull you closer like you're fragile enough to break.

"I love you. So fucking much it hurts, Yoongi."

You're weak. You're so so weak.

You don't know why you do it but you grab his face with both hands and then you're kissing him. Showing him how much you need him, how much you mean your words. His hand cups your jaw like always and his lips press back with a tender desperation and you believe him. You believe that he loves you. Whole and true. Because in that moment, with his lips on yours, everything is okay. He's your Yoongi and you're his Y/N and he loves you.

But then you pull back and he's crying too and everything's broken and your heart goes numb.

"I'm sorry. God, Y/N I'm so sorry. If I could take it back I promise I would."

You muster up all the strength you can. You know what you have to do.

"I'm giving you a choice, Yoongi. You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over. For real."

He tries to kiss you again, grabbing at you frantically when you turn your cheek.

"Y/N, don't do this. We love each other. That's all that matters right?" He musters up the closest thing to a smile he can manage, like he's convincing himself more than he is you. "You don't have to—"

"No." You pull away from grip. It feels cold and wrong. "I have to do this. If you love me like you say you'll...you'll understand."

You turn but he grabs your wrist, pins you in place.

"I can't lose you to him again, Y/N. I...I already lost you once and I don't think I..."

The hard faced Min Yoongi you once knew is gone. All that's left is the vulnerable man in front of you who holds your heart in your hands with a grip so tight it scares you.

"He can't win...please."

You suck in a final breath.

"Please what? Don't make you choose between me and that stupid fucking trophy? You did this to yourself, Yoongi." You turn and this time he lets you. "The only person pushing me away is you."

"Y/N please, wait!"

You don't dare turn to look at him as you walk away. Not even when he pleads or you hear him fall to his knees, a strangled sob echoing down the hall. You're scared you might run back to him if you do.

You don't let yourself break down until you turn the corner. Yoongi doesn't follow.

--

"I'm okay." You assure Namjoon as you take a seat beside him inside the arena. It's a lie, of course. No amount of cold water splashed on your face in the bathroom could prepare you for this moment.

You're just in time. The ceremony is already starting. The host is taking the stage and the lights are dimming but you're too numb to care.

You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over.

Your decision is final. There's no going back. You've cried all your tears. You've said all that needed to be said. All you're left with now is a sickly feeling in your stomach as you look down at the trophy sat in a display case center stage.

We love each other. A slither of hope tugs at your heart strings. You barely manage to suppress it.

"Sorry! Excuse me!" The empty seat to your left sinks under the weight of Hoseok as he clumsily stumbles into the arena, late as always.

He offers you a smile which turns to a frown when you only stare past him vacantly, straining your neck to keep an eye on the stage.

A hand covers yours. You freeze at the contact, only relaxing when you peer through the darkness to find Hoseok staring at you gently. His voice is a whisper. "Whatever happens I'm here for you, okay?"

A wave of emotion crashes through you and you think you might cry again. You can't make your lips sound out a response but Hoseok understands and you feel a little stronger when you turn your attention back to the ceremony knowing you have someone by your side.

"As you all know there have been some...complications with this year's finalists." The host coughs and fiddles with his tie awkwardly. "But we are glad to announce that we do in fact have a winner here with us today!"

The crowd chants Yoongi's name again. Namjoon stiffens. Your free hand grabs his and he squeezes it tight.

"So without further ado, I would like to welcome this year's winner, Gloss!"

The crowd goes wild but the sound is drowned out by a ringing in your ears. It's like you're underwater, holding your breath as you wait and wait for him to take the stage and all the oxygen to slip away.

One...two...three...

You get to ten seconds, then twenty seconds and then thirty and by the time you get to forty you feel yourself break the surface, take a heaving breath.

You're floating. He chose you.

He loves you! Yoongi loves you! He—

No.

You're seeing things. You must be. That can't be Yoongi's face lighting up every screen in the room. That can't be him crossing the stage and taking the trophy from the hands of the host with a smug grin. That can't be Yoongi holding it up in the air like a martyr.

That can't be your Yoongi. This is a stranger.

You crash back to reality when Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist and you realise your sobbing. Sobbing so hard it hurts your chest and your lungs burn with misuse and you're sure the tears will never stop.

"It's okay! Shh."

Nothing is okay. Nothing.

Yoongi's face is still blown up on the big screens in painful detail. The smile on his face falters when he looks out into the crowd and spots you instantly. Sees you crumple.

There are two things Min Yoongi ever loved in this world.

His music and you.

The trophy feels cold in his hands. The crowd gasps as he rushes to the edge of the stage and calls out to you.

"Y/N wait! I'm sorry—"

You hear his voice through the speakers but it's too late. You're already running.

Yoongi's mic drops to the ground.

--

Yoongi's nightmares are back. Except this time they're different.

When he closes his eyes you're there. Smiling and laughing like you used to. His heart warms and he reaches for you...

And then he realises it's not you. Just a picture, blown up on the big screen as you cross the stage at the front of the room he's suddenly aware he's in.

He glances around at the indistinguishable people around him, all smiling and clapping ferociously. Why isn't he happy?

The bottle in his hand is half empty. He's realises he's screaming. So hard his throat burns and his lungs beg for air but you don't even look his way. He screams your name, over and over again. Nobody seems to hear him.

Namjoon's there too. Bouncing a baby on his knee, maybe one or two years old if he has to guess.

"That'll be you one day," He whispers, but its deafening to Yoongi. "Only the very best for my niece." The baby giggles up at him, stubby fingers wrapped around his thumb.

She has your eyes. The very same eyes Yoongi would look into like they held everything in the world. The very same eyes Yoongi saw fill with pain on the last day he saw you before things got messed up.

She has Hoseok's nose. And his mouth, too, small and heart shaped. The resemblance is uncanny as Hoseok appears beside Namjoon, takes the baby girl into his arms and places a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Then there you are. The same old Y/N. The same smile that makes your eyes crinkle and the same laughter than makes his heart melt. The same girl who used to love him.

Though it's clear that that much is no longer true. Not when you lean up to kiss Hoseok on the cheek, Namjoon drawing you into a hug when you present the trophy in your hands to them with an elated laugh.

A family.

It feels like he's been punched in the stomach.

Yoongi always thought winning Mic Drop would mean he had everything. Fame. Money. Glory.

He didn't need family. He always got by on his own.

It took holding the whole world in the palm of his hand to realise none of it meant anything if he didn't have you by his side.

You were his everything. But he was too stupid to see it and he let you slip away.

It's too late now.

A hand appears on his shoulder. It's cold, grip bruising. The voice that comes next gives him chills every single time.

"So was it worth it?" Namjoon asks.

Yoongi tries to answer but his vision is blurred with hot tears now and he's on his hands and knees and he's screaming.

And when he wakes up at ass o clock, sweaty and gasping for air, he still finds himself reaching for your warmth beside him.

But all his fingers find are cold sheets and bitterness.

extended a/n: okay so if you have reached this far then you are a TROOPER. a trooper who i love and appreciate endlessly for reading 30k of my waffle lmao im so sorry <3 ksksksk so this fic has been in my head for the longest time and in my drafts for almost five months so im super attached to it and putting this out is like the scariest ever?? i really put my heart into this piece, like y’all don’t understand how many times it’s cropped up in my dreams and I’ve woken up like MUST WRITE. it’s far from perfect but i tried my best!! i can’t tell you how many scenes had to be rewritten until i was happy enough with them bc this fic is literally my baby in every sense of the word and i wanted to get it right :( although that just made the ending even more SOUL DESTROYING to write for me ugh i had the ending set in my mind before i even started writing but there were moments where i jus wanted yoongi and oc to be happy ever after :( but alas, I feel like this ending was far more realistic for them and i couldn’t go against my gut sigh. there may be a few drabbles planned in the future tho to make up for the angst :) Anyway!!! I’ll stop rambling. Thank you for reading this far, if anyone has. TROOPER. love you <3

updated 12/01/19: drabble #1 | drabble #2 | drabble #3 

#ksmutclub #bts #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagine #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #thebtstown #yoonkooknetwork #yoongi scenario #my writing #fic: mic drop #love yourself collab

[cynergy-laughter]

Obey Me! One Master to Abridge Them All! Ep. 2

2. Run Me Mammoney! (Rated PG-13, so at least one F-Bomb)

You’ve been summoned to the [House of Lamentation] for your move in. State your fave.

MC: *walking up to the House of Lamentation* So y’all live in this house?

Mammon: *leers* No, we live in the forest behind the house. *blocks the gate* if you wanna go through these gates, you’re gonna have to pay me 1,000,000 Grimm to break the spell that locks this gate.

MC: Who are you, Moneybags the Bear?

Mammon: Yes, now pay up.

MC: Nah, I’ll just cheat code my way in. *throws bag over the gate* YEET! *starts bouncing up and down, and swinging their hips left and right*

Mammon: Oh, you wanna dance battle with The Great Mammon!? Alright you idiot, let’s g-!

MC: *appears on the other side of gate* Heh, 3 stars, new record. *picks up bag and walks up to the door*

Mammon: W-W-Whaaaa?! H-Hey! Wait up!

*interview*

Mammon: Honestly, Enn can go back to where they came from. I don’t know why I, the Great Inescapable Mammon, have to watch over some puny, incapable human.

MC: ... He’s just mad that his pants fell down during a dance battle and I took a picture of him. He wears boxers with dollar bill designs on them... And for some reason I think that’s adorable... He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed...

————

Mammon: Now you wait just a minute, human! Do you know who I am?! What I am?! I will devour you without a second thought if you ever try to pull a fast one on me!

MC: *looking at the job on the board* Huh, Hell’s Kitchen, Help Wanted... I wonder if Gordon Ramsey is an exchange student here....

Mammon: Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!

MC: *turns to him* Alright, what do you gotta say?

Mammon: I’m not doing this because Lucifer scares me! I’m the Great Mammon, nothing scares me!

MC: There’s a guy behind you.

Mammon: What did I say about trying to pull a fast one on me, huh?!

Levi: MAMMON!

Mammon: *screeches and jumps up in MC’s arms*

MC: ... *holding Mammon* Nothing scares you huh?

Mammon: Shut up!!

————

MC: So, he must be the Avatar of Envy, right? I only assume so cause he’s actually standing on his two feet right now.

Mammon: yes, this is Leviathan, third oldest.

Levi: Don’t change the subject, Mammon! Where’s my money? The money I lent to you?!

Mammon: ... I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Levi: Oh sure Mammon, you can buy yourself new Gucci shades, and new shoes, but for some reason you can’t get me my dang money!

MC: *blinks* shoulda shopped at Payless.

Mammon: I’ll get it to you, I just need more time, like give me one more week...

Levi: You said that twelve times in the last 4 weeks Mammon, either run me my money, or run out of this house!

Mammon: Uhhh... Look, Beel’s about to eat your goldfish!

Levi: Whhhhaaaaaaaaaaa?!?!?! BEEL NO! *turns around, frantically, but then stops, and turns around slowly, Mammon was gone, MC was left behind*

MC: ... Well, congratulations, you are now in the running for the Moron of the Year Award. *claps*

———— In Levi’s Room ————

Levi: You ever watched anime before?

MC: I’m into Fruits Basket, love the manga, Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Durarara, my favorite is My Little Monster.

Levi: ... Normie. you haven’t watched reeeeal anime before.

MC: ... Oh great, just what I needed, a beardless neck.

Levi: If you want to get into some good stuff, you’ll want to get into The Tale of the Seven Lords.

MC: Yeah... whatever you say...

*interview*

Levi: There is no way I would ever want to hang out with someone like Enn. A textbook poser, and worst of all, a human! There is no way they would ever have enough culture to even be considered as one of my friends. But regardless, I need Mammon to give me my money back... so I enlisted in their help... to find a way to get my money back. For the record, this is strictly business.

MC: I agreed to helping him, cause, I don’t really have anything better to do... don’t have friends here, I might as well be the new kid on the block. But Mr. Gatekeeper thought he was cute to call Cardcaptor Sakura, Fruits Basket, and My Little Monster normie anime, so I sharpied one spot on one of his figurine’s teeth, I’m not telling him which one, and I wanna see how long it takes him to notice. Talk bad about me all you want, but I’d die before I let some obscure otaku talk trash about Sakura Kinomoto, Tohru Honda, or Shizuku Mizutani. Three strikes and get wrecked, scrub.

————

Demon1: So, you’re the new kid, huh. You don’t look like much.

Demon2: Yeah, you look like you got fear in your heart. And I think fear is delicious...

MC: *takes out Vaseline, puts big slab of it on their hand while they’re talking, and trying to intimidate, and slaps both of them at the same time*

1 & 2: AH! My face! It’s burning!

MC: *prepares another Vaseline slap* Y’all still here? I guess you want this next one to go lower and straight up, huh?

1&2: Aiieeeeee!! *runs*

MC: Yeah, get running! Next time, buy me dinner before you call me! Ain’t nobody got time to be dancing, the bell’s about to ring.

Solomon: Well well, the celebrity is addressing their adoring fans

MC: *blinks* Oh great it’s the Goblin King from the Labyrinth.

Solomon: Fiesty, you’re gonna need that in the Devildom. I’m Solomon, I’m the other human exchange student.

MC: You have no power over me you sonuvabitcj!

*interviews*

Solomon: A bit belligerent, but I sense good things from them, they have a bad temper, but I think things are gonna be a bit interesting around here...

MC: ... “How do you do, my fellow classmates?” Like who is he trying to fool? For someone who tries to give off a wiseman vibe, he just gives off Solomon from Lord of the Rings, if he found the Fountain of Youth. I don’t trust him as far as I can spit on him, and I don’t want to spit on him, I feel like he’d actually have a way to control me if I did.

————

Lucifer: Well, it seems you managed to survive the night, maybe you will be a promising exchange student. We’re you just talking to Solomon?

MC: And a good morning to you too... and you mean Chris Angel Jr. over there? Not really talking, so much as making a cross with my fingers at a skeevy looking guy.

Lucifer: Well, do not trust him, there’s something about him that’s off...

MC: Oh good, I’m not the only one... umm, by the way... what’s the deal with Mammon? Who exactly is he?

Lucifer: He’s the scummiest scum on this plane of existence.

MC: I mean yes, but I was more refering to what is his motivation in life, what is one thing he can’t function without?

Lucifer: ... Seriously? You haven’t figured it out yet?

MC: I just didn’t know if it was something else... I mean... where does he even get his money? He doesn’t strike me as someone who has a steady job. That’s more your Avenue.

Lucifer: As much as that flatters me, my job is to be Diavolo’s right hand man.

MC: You legit have the work ethic to get any job you want and have more money than Mammon.

Lucifer: Now you’re just stroking my ego. Well, having more money than him will always be true, cause I had his assets frozen.

MC: You don’t say? Well, at least his Credit Score is getting a break...

Lucifer: Let’s just say, it’s having a good long cry...

*interview*

MC: Lucifer is very strict on his brothers, but I saw that glitter in his eye when I was complimenting him. He really is the Avatar of Pride. And you cannot convince me that Lucifer and Diavolo aren’t at least dating... I’m about to Scooby Doo this mystery. And I got a year to sniff out the truth. As Sherlock Holmes would say, the game is afoot.

#obey me #one master to rule them all #one master to abridge them all #abridged #obey me main character #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me solomon #obey me comedy #scenario #comedy skit #stay tuned #i love them all #i love you all #i hope you enjoy

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ Your Eyes Only || SasuHina Zine 2020 ] [ Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi, Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi ] [ Death, car accident,  [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

She didn’t like the new house at first.

There was a lot she didn’t understand when things began to change. Like why her little sister and her mother came home from the hospital...and then her mother left again. Any time she asked, her father would get so sad. All he would ever say was that her mother was gone, and never coming back. No real explanation. No reason to placate her worry. But Hinata was far too young then to truly comprehend death. So she was left with a quiet, grieving father...and a baby sister who would never know their mother as Hinata had.

She felt so...alone.

And then, after two years in the quiet, somber house...her father tells her they can’t stay there anymore. The weight of his grief has finally become too much, needing to distance himself from the woman and her memories.

So Hinata, Hiashi, and little Hanabi leave the home Hinata has always known for one across town.

It’s cheap - a bit suspiciously so. According to the realtor, there have been two deaths in the home recently, and the remaining family had to relocate...hence the sale. Hiashi, ever the skeptic, doesn’t find the news troubling, and thinks the sizable backyard is worth a bit of rumor milling in the neighborhood.

Hinata, however, soon realizes that something is...off.

She never sees anything. But there are...feelings. It’s often said that children are more sensitive to what lies beyond. And yet no matter how many times she tells her father, he brushes her off as just indulging in childish make-believe. So from the moment they move in, she finds herself a bit...nervous in her own home.

And then...it gets stranger.

Sitting idly on a swing in the backyard, Hinata vaguely pushes herself back and forth with the toes of her sandals in the track of dirt beneath the seat. There’s actually quite a bit of play equipment left behind. Whoever lived here before must have had kids, too. And yet...she can’t help but feel a little awkward trying to play with them. Like they aren’t really...hers.

“...hello…?”

Head snapping up, she freezes like a doe caught in headlights, eyes wide and scanning the yard. Who...who said that? She doesn’t see anyone, but...she could have sworn…?

“...u doing h…?”

With a soft gasp, Hinata scrambles off the swing and tumbles to the grass, heart hammering in her chest. There! It was...a voice! Someone is here, but...she can’t see them!

“W...who are you?” she manages to call out, her own tone shaking with fear. Is it...a ghost…?

...silence.

Trembling and too scared to move, Hinata keeps flickering her gaze across the yard. The swingset is empty, the play fort unoccupied. No one is sitting in the sandbox.

...but then…

Drawn to movement, Hinata’s eyes shift to the largest tree in the yard. From behind the trunk, hidden mostly in shadow...a figure peers back at her.

They look to be about her size. From here, however, she can’t make out much else. But given their hiding posture...it’s clear they’re just as nervous as she is.

There’s a long, quiet impasse as they stare at one another.

“...where...w-where did you come from…?” Her voice is still quiet, almost afraid that being too loud will prompt the figure to attack. But it doesn’t move.

“...I should ask you that...this is my yard…”

Hinata’s brows furrow. “...but...we moved here. My dad, he...he bought this house. It was empty…”

“Empty…? But...”

Whoever this is, they sound like a child. And slowly, Hinata finds her fear fading away, replaced instead by a growing curiosity. Cautiously, she hauls herself to her feet. “...what’s your name?”

“...Sasuke...who’re you?”

“My name is...is Hinata. I’m s-seven.”

“Yeah? Me too…”

Testing her luck, Hinata starts working her way closer. And slowly, she can see more of her new companion. A boy, a little taller than herself. Dark, unruly hair seems to defy gravity, matching eyes watching her warily. And yet...beneath his half-hearted glower...he looks scared. “Where did...did you come from…?”

“My house, duh.” He points to what is now Hinata’s house.

“...are you a ghost?” she whispers.

His nose wrinkles. “What? No! Do I look like a ghost to you?”

Well...he has a point. Ghosts are usually white and see-through, right? But he looks completely solid. And as Hinata inches closer, raising a hand...she feels her fingers press against his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I-I...I had to make sure y-y-you...weren’t a ghost.”

The boy scoffs again. “I told you, I’m not!”

“But…”

“Come on, I’ll show you!” Taking Hinata’s hand and ignoring her squeak of surprise, Sasuke hauls her up toward the house. He opens the slider, heading inside and calling, “Mom! Dad!”

...there’s no reply.

“Ugh, they must’ve gone to town again...they do that a lot without saying anything. I hope Itachi is still here…”

“Itachi…?”

“My big brother. Did you see him?”

“Um...no. I-I’ve only seen you.”

Grunting in reply, Sasuke keeps going, and tugs open the door to the study, which Hiashi has turned into his home office for work. He’s seated at his computer, doing whatever it is grown ups do for work.

“Who’s that?”

“M...my dad,” Hinata whispers, not wanting to get caught.

But Hiashi already heard the door, turning to look at her with a furrowed brow. “Hinata...do you need something?”

Looking to her father, then Sasuke, and back again, there’s a long pause before she mumbles, “N...no, Father. S-sorry. I-I…”

Sighing, Hiashi glances to his computer before looking back. “I told you, I’m very busy. Stay in the backyard and play until dinner, please.”

“Y-yes, Father.” Giving Sasuke’s hand a tug, she leads him back out into the hall, shutting the door.

“...he didn’t see me…”

Hinata glances to the boy, his expression clearly confused. “...I...I don’t know. But...I can see you. I-I can even touch you. You can’t be a...a ghost.”

“But why couldn’t he see me…?”

Though it’s in no way her fault, Hinata’s chest grows heavy with a kind of guilt. “...maybe it’s a...a weird dream…?”

Slowly, Sasuke’s expression crumbles...and he starts to cry, a forearm lifted to try and hide his face. “I-I’m scared! Where are my mom and dad? W-where’s my brother? Why are you people in my h-house?”

Not knowing what else to do, Hinata carefully shuffles closer until she can put arms around him. Though she fully expects him to push her away, he instead clings to her tightly, sobbing unabashedly.

There are many things Hinata doesn’t know...but for Sasuke’s sake, she wishes she could do something to help.

Eventually they retreat to the backyard, sitting together under the tree. A heavy silence hangs over the pair of them. Hinata, hugging her knees to her chest, struggles to think of a possible solution.

But in the meantime, she needs to cheer Sasuke up.

“...what is your brother like?”

Glancing to her solemnly, he takes a moment to think. “...he’s really smart. Mom always said he was way above the other kids. He’s twelve, but he’s taking big kid classes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And he’s good at sports, too. He plays soccer really good. I get to go watch his games sometimes.” Slowly, a smile starts blooming over Sasuke’s face as he remembers his brother. “He plays video games with me when he doesn’t have a lot of homework. Dad gets mad about it sometimes, though. But Itachi always tries to have time to play with me. He’s the best big brother ever…!”

At that, Hinata feels a small twinge of guilt. Her little sister is two years old now, and mostly spends time with a nanny Hiashi has hired. “...that must be nice…”

“What about you?”

“M-my little sister is two. Her name is Hanabi. She’s too small to do a lot, yet. I hope I’ll be a good big sister…”

“You seem nice. I bet you will.”

For over an hour, the pair of them sit in the shade, talking about their families, and their friends. Bit by bit, they get to know each other better.

And then Hiashi calls Hinata in for dinner.

Sasuke follows her in. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he watches as everyone but Hinata just...walks around him, acting as if he isn’t there.

And Hinata just can’t understand it…! Why can’t anyone else see him? “Father…?”

“What, Hinata?”

“Is it okay if my...i-if my friend stays for dinner?”

Glancing to her, Hiashi frowns. “...what friend?”

She points right at Sasuke, the boy balking slightly.

But as Hiashi looks, there’s no sign of recognition. “...Hinata, there’s no one there.”

“Yes, there is! H-his name is Sasuke, and -!”

“I have had enough of your wild imagination, Hinata,” her father sighs, cutting her off. “There are no ghosts in this house, and there is no boy in this kitchen.”

“Maybe it’s an imaginary friend?” the nanny offers, already working to get Hanabi fed in her high chair. “She’s lost a parent, and doesn’t have many real friends. Maybe she’s made one for herself. Kids do that all the time.”

“But he’s real!” Hinata insists, expression distraught. “H-he is!”

Clearly frustrated, Hiashi waves her away. “Enough nonsense. Sit and eat your dinner.”

Puffing up and threatening upset tears, Hinata then deflates in defeat.

...they really can’t see him...can they? Is it really just her imagination…?

All the while, Sasuke stares at the floor, expression slack with sorrow..

...well...real or not, imaginary or not...she’s going to try to make him happy…!

After dinner, Hinata sneaks some of her leftovers up to her room. “Here, I...I saved you some.”

“I’m not hungry…”

“But…?”

“I’m fine.”

Hinata’s brow wilts, but she doesn’t fight him.

“...this was my room…”

“I...it was…?”

He nods, and then points. “My bed was over there, and my desk...I had a TV in the corner…and some posters on the wall. Where did it all go…?”

“...I don’t know. It...it was empty in here when we came.”

“...I don’t get it…! Where did my family go? Why did they leave me…?”

Hinata, despite her wishing, has no answers.

Come nightfall and her bedtime, she snuggles down into bed, watching as Sasuke stands silently at a window. “...are you tired?”

“...no.”

“W...what about hungry?”

“No.”

...well that’s strange. “...do you wanna lay with me?”

At that, he turns and looks at her strangely.

“When I couldn’t sleep, my mom would let me lay with her. It a-always made me feel better. Maybe...i-it would help?”

Seeming to mull that over, Sasuke eventually approaches. Shuffling aside some of the blankets, he takes one side of the bed as Hinata turns to lay on her back.

“...I’m not sleepy. Not even a little bit.”

“But you’ve g-gotta sleep sometime...right?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at the ceiling.

Frustrated at her lack of ability to help, Hinata does the same until - eventually - she manages to slip into sleep.

From there, a pattern emerges.

No one besides Hinata can see the boy named Sasuke. And he never gets tired. Never gets hungry. Doesn’t even need to go to the bathroom. Hinata remains convinced he has to be a ghost. But...he’s solid. She can touch him, feel him, see him just fine.

What on Earth is going on…?

At first, Sasuke remains adamant that his family will come back at any moment, just as confused as he is. But as days blend to weeks, and weeks fade to months...he begins to lose hope. And eventually, he just...gives up.

“Maybe I am a ghost,” he murmurs one day, the pair of them sitting on the swings.

“But I thought ghosts were...were see-through? A-and you couldn’t touch them?”

Shoulders shrug. “But I don’t gotta eat, or sleep. Nobody can see me. ‘Cept you. What else could it be?”

Sighing, Hinata doesn’t have any other ideas. “...I dunno…”

“...guess I’m gonna just haunt this house forever,” he mutters, kicking at the dirt with a grunt. “...but at least you can see me. I’d be really lonely otherwise.”

“...me too.”

Come the Fall, Hinata starts school. And after some debate, Sasuke tries to follow her...and it works! Sitting on the bus beside her, he watches the other children curiously.

“Did you go to s...school here?”

“Nuh-uh. My mom taught us at home.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah. It was kinda boring, though.”

All through the day, he tags along in her shadow. And just like at home...no one sees him. No one makes note of him. And yet oddly, even when it’s crowded, no one tries to step where he’s standing...as if, despite not seeing him, they know on a subconscious level that he’s there.

While Hinata sits quietly in class, Sasuke takes to wandering around the classroom. She watches him from the corner of her eye, worried he might get into trouble. But he just observes, curious about the room and everything in it.

But eventually he starts sitting on the floor beside her, listening to the lessons. And at recess, he and Hinata retreat to a corner of the play yard to talk.

“Don’t you wanna play with the other kids?” he asks, twirling a pine needle between his fingers.

“But...t-then you’d be lonely,” she rebukes, clearly repulsed by the thought. “It’s fine...I’m r-really shy anyway. The other kids make me...m-make me nervous.”

Considering that, Sasuke doesn’t reply.

And so it goes. Sasuke tags along every day, joining Hinata in her classes and observing her work, unable to do any of his own. The year passes, Summer upon them once again...and then another year.

And another.

Eventually, the mystery behind Sasuke’s appearance in the yard that day is forgotten. The pair settle into their own kind of normal. Wherever Hinata goes, Sasuke isn’t far behind. He helps her with her homework, listening to her observations about classes or classmates. She mostly remains to herself, everyone else writing her off as that awkward wallflower. And really? She finds she doesn’t mind. Sure, it gets a little lonely...but she refuses to leave Sasuke on his own, determined to make sure he never feels alone.

...like she felt when she lost her mother.

Closing her locker door and ensuring she has all the books she needs for the evening, Hinata gives a quick glance for Sasuke. As usual, he’s leaned against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets. The pair of them are sixteen now. And curiously enough...Sasuke has kept aging. Dark, broody eyes observe the passersby as he waits, hair just as messy as the day she met him.

Her own is longer now, her frame taller but...still a bit short compared to her peers, with a rounded shape and typically-baggy outfits. Even now, in high school, she remains a bit of a recluse.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!”

Leaving the school behind, the pair of them start the walk home. The high school is close enough she doesn’t need the bus, and she’s still too young to drive.

“Was it just me, or did Chemistry totally suck today?”

Sasuke’s tone earns a laugh. “I dunno, it didn’t seem so bad…”

“That teacher drives me nuts. His tone is so...nasally. I can’t pay attention to what he says. I wanna just...ram a cotton swab up his nose. See what makes him sound that way.”

“Sasuke!”

“What?”

“That’s horrible!” she reprimands, still laughing.

“It doesn’t bother you?!”

“No…?”

“Ugh...I can’t stand it.”

Rounding a corner, they pause at a red light, the right hand street light barring their passage. “At least he’s not quiet like the History teacher...I have a h-hard time hearing her half the time. If she didn’t write things on the board, I’d never pass the class!”

“That’s where being invisible comes in handy - I can sit as close as I want, no problem.”

“And I’m stuck in the back row!”

As the sign changes, they make to cross, Sasuke snickering. “At least you can see what she writes, huh?” Bored as always, he approaches a newer model car in curiosity, the driver completely unaware as they wait for the light to change.

“I’d be in big trouble if -”

The pair of them flinch at a squealing sound, halting with a jolt in the middle of the crosswalk. Hands on her ears, Hinata grimaces as a car skids around the corner.

“Hinata!”

“What -?”

“Hinata, look out!”

Turning, her eyes go wide as the vehicle - still barreling down the roadway - heads right for her.

Scrambling to turn around and close the distance, Sasuke’s heart leaps to his throat. He’s not gonna make it -!

With a sickening crunch, the corner of the car clips her as Hinata makes to flee, thrown aside as the momentum sends her flying. Behind them, the car sails across the intersection and crashes into a tree with a screech of metal and breaking glass.

“HINATA!”

Dazed, she watches with blurring eyes as Sasuke scrambles to her side, yelling and yet...he’s so quiet. And she’s so...tired…

Silence.

Then, slowly, a soft sound begins to bleed through. It’s dark...pitch black. Head swimming, Hinata tries to focus on what she hears. It’s like...beeping? Is it her alarm clock? Oh no...she’s going to be late for class, isn’t she? But her eyes are so heavy…

After minutes of struggle, she manages to peel them open, and yet...at first, she wonders if she really did. It’s just as dark, and even as she blinks, nothing changes. But a slight hint of light slowly bleeds into her vision, and reveals odd silhouettes in the darkness. Trying to make out the shapes, it takes time to realize...she’s in a hospital room.

Like the one she remembers from when her mother had Hanabi.

Before she…

Head lolling on her pillow, Hinata tries to make out anything else, but...it’s so darn dark…! Struggling to swallow and attempting to lift her head, her mouth opens and she croaks out, “...Sasuke…?”

...no answer.

Sighing, she flops back prone. Why is she in the hospital…? Did something happen? Nothing really rings a bell...she’s just so tired. Maybe she hit her head…

Maybe she’ll just...close her eyes a little longer…

“...whole joint was…”

“...will that take?”

“...therapy. But…”

Eyelids twitching, Hinata slowly swims back toward consciousness. Is that...her father’s voice...? “...Dad...?”

At the head of the room, both Hiashi and a doctor go still. “...Hinata?!” Crossing it in two steps, Hiashi clings to the railing of her cot. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah...your voice is...really loud…”

He hesitates. “...how are you feeling?”

“Really...tired. Where…?”

Sighing, Hiashi hesitates. “...do you remember going home from school on Thursday?”

Thursday? What happened Thursday...they had that Spanish quiz, and...something about Chemistry…? “...no…”

“When you were walking home...you were hit by a car. A drunk driver. Thankfully it wasn’t a direct hit, but...he clipped your side. You’ve got some bruised ribs, but...your hip bone was shattered, and your femur was broken. And your impact gave you a minor concussion. The hip was replaced with an artificial joint, but the damage from the broken bones to your muscles was...pretty severe. And you have a cast on your leg for the femur. You’re going to be unable to walk for a while.”

“...a car…?”

“Yes. You...don’t remember?”

Brow furrowing, she tries to think. Something about...Sasuke. He was yelling...did he try to warn her? “A...a little bit…”

“She’s been on some pretty heavy painkillers - that makes it rather hard to be fully conscious and aware,” the doctor then steps in. “Once she’s lowered in dosage she’ll likely recall more.”

“Is...is Hanabi here…?”

“She’s at school right now, but she’s been in to see you, yes. I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear you’re awake.”

Nodding slowly, Hinata then looks around the rest of the room. Is Sasuke still not…?

“Well, the best thing for you right now is more rest.” The doctor nods to Hiashi. “If you’d like, we can continue our conversation in the hallway.”

“Yes of course.” With a last look to his daughter, Hiashi murmurs, “...I’ll be back later. You get some sleep.”

Before she can argue - she doesn’t want to sleep! - the pair of them leave the room, and Hinata feels her head grow heavy. More painkillers, seems like.

Sasuke...where are you…?

As consciousness fades, a terrible thought manages to surface. What if he’s...gone? Was he really imaginary all this time? Did the blow to her head somehow…?

But it trails into silence as her brain submits to sleep.

Several more days pass in a fog of sleep and drugs before they deem her ready to start the next stage of recovery. Put in a wheelchair, she’s taken to a therapy room, a strange brace helping her stand and start regaining some strength in her injured leg. With fewer pain meds, the afflicted muscles have started to ache...but she’s nothing if not stubborn. Day by day, she gets a little stronger. Eventually she’s given crutches, hobbling around until - gaining her balance - she’s strutting around the hallways like a giraffe.

“She should be ready to return home soon. A few more tests, and we’ll clear her.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

“Hinata has done remarkably well. She’s quite the fighter, that daughter of yours.”

Listening to the conversation just outside her door, Hinata idly twirls a crutch on its rubber foot off the end of her bed. It’s been several weeks.

...and still, no sign of Sasuke.

Expression somber, she’s all but accepted that - whatever he was - he’s gone. Even as his face looming over her - so scared, so desperate - haunts her when she sleeps, there’s not a trace of him when she’s awake.

Sighing, she maneuvers her other crutch into place, hopping to her feet with practiced ease. The cast will be off in a few more weeks, but she’ll have therapy for her hip for a while after. But for now, she’s as mobile as she can hope to be. Slipping through the door, she offers, “Going to stretch my legs.”

Watching her critically, Hiashi nonetheless nods as she starts to wander. By now, much of the staff knows she takes to going up and down the halls to work on her strength and balance.

But today, she’s feeling especially restless.

Approaching an elevator, she hops in and looks to the numbers. Mostly she visits the ground floor - it has the most open space. But today she’s feeling an itch, and presses a random button.

When the doors open, she finds a quiet, nearly-empty hallway.

Hesitating a moment, Hinata eventually steps out, feeling a bit...intrusive. After a few inquisitive glances, she finds she’s on a floor for long-term patients, and those with terminal diagnoses.

For a moment, she considers turning back. But something presses her on.

Silently padding along the tiled floor, she gives each door a glance. Names are listed along the sides. And as she goes, one door opens, and a cot rolls out.

The figure upon it is covered completely.

Her heart leaps to her throat, watching morbidly as it’s wheeled to another hallway. Throat suddenly dry, she again considers retreating.

But her eyes - gazing across to the branching hallway - then look to the door opposite her.

And this time, her heart stops.

Sasuke Uchiha.

...no, that...that’s not…?

After a long pause, she carefully makes her way to the door. It might not be him. She...never actually asked about his last name. Why did she never…? Mind too shocked, she glances to the doorknob, weighing her options before reaching, hesitating...and then giving it a turn.

It opens, the door slowly sweeping inward.

It’s a single room, the curtain drawn to hide the cot. Chest hammering like a drum, Hinata maneuvers her way through the doorway. There’s no one else in here - no nurses, no visitors. Beyond the typical sounds of monitoring equipment, it’s quiet.

Behind her, the door snaps closed, and she gasps in fear, spinning around as best she can on crutches. When she realizes she’s still alone, she looks back to the curtain.

...does she dare…?

Swallowing down her nerves, she takes another step. Then another. A hand reaches, grasps the edge of the curtain...and slowly pulls.

...and there he is.

Lying prone upon his back, an oxygen mask rests over his face. But otherwise...he’s exactly as she remembers. The same hair, same face...it looks like he’s just sleeping.

And yet...she knows that’s not the case. Suddenly it all fits back together, and yet…

“So, you found me.”

Jolting, her eyes flicker to what was an empty chair at the foot of the room a moment ago. But sitting in it is...is Sasuke…? Hinata looks from the chair, to the cot, to the chair. “...I…?”

“Coma.” His voice is quiet, and yet unbelievably strained. “Since I was seven years old.”

Hinata feels her heart sink. So long…?

“...a few weeks before, my parents were murdered in our house. My brother and I saw it, hiding in the closet. Our mom’s sister was our closest relative, took us in...sold our house. But after a while, I guess my brain just...shut down. I dunno the details, but...that’s what I’ve learned. Sitting here, listening whenever they come in.”

Staring at him, Hinata’s eyes slowly brim with tears.

“...my brother’s a doctor here. It’s how I found out - I saw him in the hallway, waiting for you to wake up. So I followed him...and he led me here. I’ve been here ever since. Trying to just…” He gestures to his comatose body. “...figure this all out.”

“Sasuke, I...I-I’m so sorry, I…”

He shakes his head. “...sorry I haven’t been around to see you. I just…”

“No! No, this...this is far more important!” Hobbling over, she sets aside her crutches and sits in the other chair. Arms gently encircle him. “I can’t imagine…”

“...I know this might sound shitty, but...you being hurt brought me here. I’d never have known, otherwise. But now, I dunno what to do. How to...fix this.”

“You can’t just…?”

“I’ve tried touching my body. Laying on it. Anything to get back...in it! But nothing works! It’s the one thing I can’t touch. I phase right through it, like some kind of ghost. And I’m running out of time.”

“...what do you mean?”

“They’re going to pull my life support soon.” His voice trips over the words, throat tightening as she gasps. “I...I don’t know what will happen to me. If I’ll just...f-fade away, or be stuck here like this…! Hinata, I…” He leans into her, and she feels her chest clench. “...I’m so scared…”

Smoothing at his hair, Hinata’s mind flurries. “D-don’t worry...we’ll think of something…” Holding him quietly for a while, she eventually pulls back, retaking her feet and looking at the sleeping Sasuke closely. There has to be something they can do. Some way to get him to wake up…!

But before she can act, the doorknob turns.

...she has nowhere to hide.

Stepping in, a young man’s eyes are glued to a chart, but then lift and stare at her almost dumbly.

Hinata can only stare back.

“...what are you doing in here?”

Floundering for a moment, Hinata tries to think of an excuse.

“...that’s Itachi.”

Looking back to Sasuke, she almost asks a question before realizing how that will look. Itachi can’t see him. “...I-I…”

“This room is open to family visitors only.”

“I’m sorry Itachi, I -”

“How do you know my name?”

Oh...how’s she going to explain this…? Struggling, Hinata feels herself near panic. “It...i-it’s a long story...I -?”

Arms folding, he looks to her critically. “...I have time.”

“...I…” Where does she even start? “I’m...a friend of Sasuke’s.”

“...really? He’s never once had a visitor. How did you know him…?”

“He, um...that is, we…” She can’t tell the truth...he’ll think she’s crazy! “...my father bought your house.”

That earns a blink. “...we were already moved out when it was sold.”

“Yes, I...I know. But…” She nibbles her lip. “...I saw him there.”

“...that’s impossible.”

“I did, I…!” Desperation brings her near tears. “...at first I thought he was a ghost, or...or an imaginary friend! But...he grew with me. Went to class with me, and...no one else could see him -!”

“Sasuke has been comatose for almost ten years,” Itachi cuts in, tone bitter with sadness. “There is no way he could have been with you - he’s been here -”

“His body, yes! But...he didn’t remember losing his parents. He thought we took his house. He told me all about you! A-and your mom, and dad! I think he...he showed up at that house because it was the last thing he remembered before y-you saw your parents’ deaths!”

Slowly, Itachi’s arms unfurl. “...how do you know that…?”

“Because he told me.” She looks to him pleadingly. “...I know this sounds impossible. R-really, I...I do. But I’m not lying, Itachi - I…I was in a car accident several weeks ago. He came with me here, and...he saw you. Recognized you. Followed you in here, and...he knows you’re going to stop his life support.”

“...how -?”

“Please, you can’t!” She staggers a few steps closer, unsteady on her crutches. “He’s here! Sitting in that chair! If you pull that plug...he might be gone forever. And I...I don’t want him to disappear! He’s been my best friend for ten years. If he leaves - if...if I lose him…” Tears escape her eyes, watching as Itachi balks in shock. “...I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Staring at her, Itachi clearly weighs her words. Fear bubbles in her that he’ll think her crazy, order her to leave.

“...he’s always been so damn logical…”

Glancing over as Sasuke steps up beside her, Hinata tries to think of how to solve this. She has to do something…!

“...I don’t know how you know these things,” Itachi murmurs, drawing her gaze. “But it’s more than clear you’ve meddled in things you have no business in knowing.”

“...please...don’t do this…”

“You need to leave. And if I see you in here again, I will have security remove you.”

“You can’t give up on him! He’s right here -!”

“I’ve heard enough!”

“Please!” Dropping her crutches with a clatter, Hinata clings to the elder brother’s front. “You can’t do this! I...I love him!”

Staring with wide eyes, Itachi stands in shock before opening his mouth to retort.

But then the heart rate monitor begins to scream. Beeping rapidly, the screen shows Sasuke’s heart leaping in pace, threatening to arrest.

“Sasuke!” Tearing Hinata’s hands aside, Itachi moves to check his brother’s chest.

And as he does, dark eyes slowly crack open.

“...you don’t have to shout…”

Freezing, Itachi stares. And stares. And stares. Slowly, the monitor slows, quieting to a typical cadence.

“...and if you ever call ‘nata a liar again...I’ll never forgive you...Itachi.”

Slowly, Itachi staggers back. “...you...this can’t…”

With a grunt, Sasuke struggles to sit up. “Shit...my arms feel like noodles…”

“D-don’t strain yourself!” Hinata cautions, hopping forward to help. “Careful…” Easing him up, she stares at him in surprise. “...how…?”

“...I dunno. Guess you gave me a jumpstart.”

Before Hinata can blush, Itachi sits rather haphazardly on a clattery rolling stool, drawing both of their gazes.

“...this...this isn’t possible.”

“The last ten years I spent following her around would say otherwise,” Sasuke replies. “...it’s gonna take a while to explain. And I’m...really fucking tired.”

“Please don’t overwork yourself,” Hinata murmurs, still watching him warily in case something goes wrong. She still can’t believe he’s awake…!

“...you were really...somewhere else? All this time?”

“Yeah. I think Hinata’s right. I was...stuck to the last place I could remember. Before my brain went off the deep end.” Wincing, Sasuke adjusts his posture. “I didn’t know about Mom and Dad. There were strangers in our house. I was so confused...but when you didn’t come back, I just...gave up. Tagged along with Hinata because she was the only person who could see me, or touch me. Wasn’t until she was brought here I was able to learn anything about what happened.”

Itachi just...stares, clearly having trouble taking it all in. “...and we nearly…”

“I tried to tell you. Screamed at you that I was here. But no one could hear me. I’ve been just...sitting here for weeks, trying to figure out how to wake up.”

At that, Itachi’s eyes move to Hinata, who balks. “...I see. Sasuke, I…” His head bows. “...I’m so sorry. I’ve tried everything. But it had been so long…”

“I don’t blame you. From what I heard, it seemed pretty hopeless. But I guess we got here just in time.”

Silence fills the room for uncounted minutes, all of them just...processing the news.

“...I have to thank you...for watching over my brother for me…”

Looking to Itachi with wide eyes, Hinata stutters, “I...of course! I just...I f-feel bad I couldn’t do more.”

“You did everything you needed to. Given how things all came together...perhaps it was some strange fate,” he murmurs, a hand rubbing over his mouth in thought. “...forgive me, I...this is all a bit much to take in.”

“I...can imagine.”

“Would you…?” He hesitates. “...would you mind if I talked to my brother? Alone?”

“O-of course! I...I’ll go back to my room, and -”

“Where are you located?”

“Um...fifth floor. Room five-oh-seven.”

“And your name?”

“...Hinata. Hinata Hyūga.”

“...thank you, Hinata Hyūga. I...need to call my aunt. We have much to discuss.”

She nods, and then turns to Sasuke, suddenly feeling sheepish as he looks sleepily back. “...I guess I’ll, um...I’ll see you later…?”

“For sure.”

Regathering her crutches with Itachi’s help, she makes her way back to the hallway and the elevator, mind strangely...empty. Maybe it hasn’t all sunken in yet, but...Sasuke’s okay. He’s awake…! After all this time...they finally know what really happened.

As the doors open, she comes up short at the sight of her father, who similarly jumps. “Where have you been?”

“It, uh…” She gives a sheepish grin. “...it’s a long s-story. Dad, do...do you remember my imaginary friend?”

Several hours pass, and Hiashi is just as taken aback as Itachi was. Though Hinata insists he can’t yet go see “proof” until the Uchiha have a chance to have a long-overdue reunion, he murmurs, “...I never would have guessed...I don’t exactly believe in that sort of thing. I...I couldn’t. Not after your mother…”

“I understand. But we both thought we were crazy.”

“I’m sorry. I should have believed you.”

“It’s okay, Dad.”

The next day is a flurry of tests: the last hurdle until Hinata is cleared to go home. Determined, she sails through every one, and is finally given her release.

But first, she takes her father up to the other floor. This time, Sasuke’s door is propped open, and Hinata sticks her head inside. “Sasuke…?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Hobbling through, Hinata gestures for her father to follow. “Dad, this is Sasuke. Sasuke, this is Dad. Though...I guess you already k-know that.”

Hiashi, for once, looks extremely...awkward. “...it’s, ah...good to officially meet you.”

“Likewise, sir.”

The trio exchange a few minutes of awkward dialogue until Itachi arrives, and more introductions are given. “We have much to thank your daughter for, Mr. Hyūga. If not for her...we may have lost Sasuke forever.”

“Yes, she’s…” Hiashi gives her a glance, Hinata returning it hesitantly. “...far stronger than I gave her credit for.”

“We hope once Sasuke returns home, you’ll all come to visit us.”

“...certainly.”

As they talk, Hinata sits on the edge of Sasuke’s cot, watching them.

“Been a weird twenty-four hours,” he murmurs, earning a giggle.

“Yeah...just a little.”

“Hinata, I…”

Turning to him, she gives a soft smile. “It’s okay...I-I know.”

He hesitates. “...I will see you again soon.”

“Of course. But...it’s going to be strange, going home w-without you.”

“...yeah. You too. I don’t even know what my house looks like.”

That earns a somber pause.

“...but I’ll get used to it.” Glancing to the other pair, he sits up a bit closer. “Hey, uh…”

“Yes?”

“Did you…? I mean, when you said…?”

Ah...she’d almost hoped he’d forgotten. Blooming pink, she glances sheepishly aside. “Y...yeah. I meant what I...w-what I said.”

“...okay, good.”

She looks back with a furrowed brow.

“...cuz I love you t-”

“All right Hinata, we should leave and give this family their space,” Hiashi cuts in, a brow perking as the teens lean apart. Clearly suspicious, he gives a nod, watching as Hinata sheepishly fumbles for her crutches.

“Thank you again, Hinata. For everything you’ve done,” Itachi offers with a smile. “And...I apologize for how I treated you yesterday.”

“It...it’s okay. If I were you, I...would have thought I was crazy, heh.”

“Well...I’m just glad that wasn’t the case. Because of you, I have my baby brother back. It’s...hard to put into words what that means to me.”

In spite of herself, Hinata feels her eyes tear up. “...y-you’re welcome…”

“We’ll see you soon.”

“...yeah.”

Following her father down to the lobby, Hinata struggles with herself not to cry.

“...that must have been a tough goodbye.”

She wipes at her eyes. “...mhm.”

“Well...it surely won’t be long until we go visit.” Gently, Hiashi puts an arm around her. “Or maybe they can come see us.”

“Yeah, m-maybe.” Though she’s not sure Itachi would be keen to see the house again.

“...for now, let’s get you home.” Hiashi takes out his keys. “I’ll pull the car around.”

“...‘kay.” Waiting in the lobby, Hinata idles on her crutches, watching as others wander through.

And then, for a moment...she swears she feels a weight on her shoulders.

Jolting, she glances back, and for just a fraction of a moment...she swears she sees two people behind her, both smiling. But with a blink...they vanish. They...they looked an awful lot like…?

Outside, Hiashi’s car pulls up to the door, and Hinata gives her head a shake before hobbling out to meet him.

...maybe she does see ghosts, after all.

     Well well well, look who it is! Me xD I know this account has been...very very dead, but I’ve been super busy and just...y’know. Internet things have to take a back seat. BUT! I was invited to work on the SH zine, and managed to get a piece done for it, and...this is that piece! It’s a plot I’ve been sitting on for AGES, and finally got to use here. It’s...rather long, especially compared to most other things on this blog, but hopefully it’s still enjoyable xD      You can find the zine announcement here if you want to go check it out, and be sure to show love to it and the other creators that participated! There’s many more great fics and awesome artwork to be had! But this is my piece if it’s easier to read standalone. Thanks for all the support, SH community <3

#sasuhina zine 2020 #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #uchiha sasuke #uchiha itachi #death // #car accident // #best years of your life [ au ]