#'hm... maybe being an adult... and drinking... does sound fun' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xillveart · 4 years ago

Text

New Pleasures

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Side Pairings: Eijirou Kirishima x Nene Date (OC), Seijirou Eguchi (OC) x Dokuji (Doey) Kobayashi (OC)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Humor / Some angsty things

Story Warnings: Cursing, sex (vaginal and anal via pegging), foreplay (oral via blowjobs, face sitting, and rimming), alcohol consumption, sex toy use and discussion, lots of references to anxiety and self confidence issues

Koge has always had a fantasy about taking more control during sex and, to be blunt, fucking her dear husband with a strap-on. Bakugou, however, is hesitant, though he works through his issues with the kink to create a new and enjoyable adventure for them both.

Art in banner is by me. You can see the full unedited version on my Twitter ( @hvalrossnoodlez ) IT IS AN 18+ ONLY ACCOUNT AND I BLOCK MINORS IF I CATCH YOU

“Why do you get so embarrassed? It’s just a little adult conversation, honestly-”

“How is talking about the way we fuck a normal conversation?!”

“That isn’t at all what I asked! I just made a comment that you should experiment a little, that’s all.”

“It’s none of your business, Eguchi.”

Koge sighed quietly as she glanced between the two bickering men, one being her husband beside her and the other being her mentor, who was really more like a part of their family at this point more than her boss. Sure, if they were just close business wise, this would be completely inappropriate, but he was truly more like a brother to her than anything else at this point in their adult lives. Besides, this hadn’t even started out as a raunchy conversation, anyway. Just a tease from Seijirou that Bakugou needed to get laid because he was so anxious and wound up is what started it, but the way he said it is what ticked Bakugou off.

“Let her do all the work for a change, a dildo in the ass won’t kill you.”

Oh, boy, was Koge’s first thought, and the bright red flushing of her lover’s ears and irritated snarl appeared faster than she could even think of what to say to calm him down. His retaliation was actually much calmer than she expected, probably reduced by the four glasses of whisky he had consumed up to this point, but she still had to place a hand tenderly on his thigh to remind him that they were in a public place and yelling about sex wasn’t a good idea. He kept a bit quiet due to her silent warning, but it was still just as aggressive as it would have been should he have let it all out.

Seijirou, though? There was nothing she could do about that. That man had a mouth sharp enough cut diamond, and if he wanted to say something, he was going to. Period. Even his lover had little to no influence, especially now since he was nose deep in his notebook writing away with no recognition of the conversation going on beside him. Koge envied him for being able to shut out everything around him, because now, she was the one stuck in the middle of this and would have to figure out how to get both men to drop it.

“I didn’t say it was my business! I just made a harmless comment. No need to be so uptight about it, there’s nothing wrong with it. And, from my personal experience-”

“I don’t need to hear about how good you think ass fucking is, okay?” Bakugou barked, silencing Seijirou with the simple growl of his voice. “If Utsuro wants to take over fine, she does all the time, but I draw a line with shit going up my ass.”

“Shit technically comes out of your ass,” Koge spoke softly as she sipped from her own glass of whisky, chancing a glance up at Bakugou as his glare turned down to her.

“Are you on his side?!”

Face flushing, Koge put her glass down, looking across the table at Seijirou before up at her husband. “Katsuki, I’ve tried to bring it up before, but you’re pretty, uhm… Against it. Though I think it would be fun.”

“Fun?! For you, maybe! Remember how long it took for you to even be ready to take a dick in the ass? We had to work on it for weeks.”

“But I’m really small compared to you, I don’t think it would be as hard for you as it was for me.”

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his face with both hands vigorously in frustration. “Utsuro… Eguchi. It isn’t going to happen. And even if it did, your stupid ass would be the last to know.” Pointing an accusatory finger at Seijirou, Bakugou’s annoyance visibly spiked at the amused smirk on the older man's lips. “What the fuck is that face?!”

“It’s just funny that you think I don’t know every little thing about you. Your wife has to have someone to rant to and give her advice, you know. Do you need some advice, Bakugou? I’m an experienced man, I can help you in whatever you need!” Seijirou leaned back, letting his arm rest across the back of the booth behind his lover. “Isn’t that right, Doey?”

“Hm?” Dokuji barely picked up on the sound of his nickname, icy blue eyes tearing off his notebook to glance around the group. At first, his freckled nose scrunched up in confusion at the varying expressions on everyone’s faces, before sitting up to turn his full attention to Seijirou. “What? What are you fighting about, now?”

“I’m just saying that Bakugou needs to relax and let loose and letting Koge use a toy or two on him would be good for him. He doesn’t agree.”

“No, I don’t fucking agree!” Bakugou snapped, slumping down into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest as if he were a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s stupid!”

“Hm, no, I don’t see him doing that.” Dokuji picked up his drink, taking a few deep swallows of the light-colored beer before continuing. “It would absolutely damage his fragile ego.”

“Hey! Fuck you, carrot top! I don’t have a fragile ego! I just don’t want shit in my ass-”

“-But there’s already shit in your ass, Katsuki-”

“-Utsuro, your comments aren’t helping!” Bakugou took hold of Koge’s face in his hand, squishing her cheeks together to pucker out her lips in punishment. “This is your fault, you know! Telling him shit about us and that you want to do that!”

“He’s easy to talk to.” Koge spoke against the pressure on her cheeks, not at all perturbed by his retaliation or aggressive demeanor. “And I figured he’d be better to ask than anyone else, especially for that.”

“But that shit is between us!”

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I… I guess I shouldn’t have.” The visible upward furrowing of her brow had Bakugou’s grip loosening, her guilt at upsetting and embarrassing him so much becoming quite visible on her typically void expression. “I suppose… I mean… I guess I don’t have an excuse. It’s just a fantasy of mine I had always wanted to do, and I was hoping I could talk you into it eventually if I knew more about it. Sorry…”

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou released her face to instead run his fingers through her hair softly, giving her forehead a tender kiss in acceptance of her apology and a silent hint that they would talk about it later. Yes, Bakugou had known for many years that Koge had always wanted to really take control, to use toys on him and maybe even a strap, but the thought just… what did it do? How exactly did the thought of doing those things make him feel? Was he really disgusted by it or was he just embarrassed? Or was it really that his ego was too big to even allow Koge to completely dominate him like that?

Now he was just confused and feeling… selfish.

“It’s healthy, y’know.” Dokuji spoke up again, gaining the attention of the couple across the table. “For your relationship, to try things that one person wants but the other is a bit uncomfortable with. And it’ll open you up to something you might actually like, on top of like… bonding or whatever. Just take the dildo in the ass, man, don’t be a fucking coward.” How quickly his calm demeanor switched into annoyance had Koge and Seijirou almost cackling, both holding their breath as Bakugou nearly leaped over the table to strangle the redhead, slamming his hands on the table to rattle the glasses.

“Fuck off! It’s not about being a coward! You don’t fucking get it.”

“Oh no, I get it. I was like you before, completely ignorant to everything outside of traditional sex, but in my young rebellion I started acting out and experimenting to find out who I was attracted to really and what I liked, since I was so in the dark about myself. This prick opened my eyes to a lot of things,” In his reference to Seijirou, Dokuji reached up and flicked his lover on the nose, gaining an annoyed whine and smack of the hand in retaliation. “Because there was a lot I didn’t know and was scared of, or uncomfortable with, but now it’s like… fun. I guess. And not just sex, dude. Like… Even just keeping up my appearance and taking better care of myself.”

Huffing as a simple stroke along his back from Koge had him sitting back down normally, Bakugou’s glare bounced from Dokuji, to Seijirou rubbing his nose, to the half empty glass of whisky in front of him. Sure, this shit was making sense, but it still didn’t make him feel confident enough that he’d be able to pull it off without backing out. Would he do anything for Koge? Absolutely. He’d die for her. But her fucking him with a strap was… difficult for him to agree to.

“It’s okay, Katsuki.” Koge spoke up softly after a while of silence, timidly taking his hand. “Don’t stress about it. I won’t bring it up again.”

Resting his elbow on the table, Bakugou hid his face in his free hand, rubbing his flushed skin and tired eyes as he let out a heavy sigh. “I just can’t think about this shit right now, Utsuro. It shouldn’t even be something we’re discussing in public. Knowing my luck, there’s a fucking reporter here or some shit and there will be an article out tomorrow about how I want to be fucked in the ass.”

“I doubt that, love.” Resting up against him, Koge laid her head on his shoulder, taking a sip from her drink while she avoided looking up at the men across from her. Although she was trying to hide it, she really did feel ashamed for this entire conversation happening, knowing she should never have talked about such private things with anyone in the first place. Even though she could hide it outwardly, her guilt and Bakugou’s embarrassment were palpable, bringing an awkward and deafening silence to the once talkative table of friends. It wasn’t long before they decided to part ways, with Seijirou and Dokuji taking a taxi home while Bakugou and Koge walked the couple of blocks back to their house.

Although they held hands and walked close together as always, the heavy awkwardness didn’t fade. In fact, it grew heavier and heavier with every step they took, until it felt like they were tied down by the ankles by the time they reached their front door. Neither of them really even made the move to unlock the door, standing there beside each other with fingers laced and gazes averted. There were many moments that Koge thought a sudden heavy intake of break would mean that he was going to speak, but each time there was only silence, until he finally pulled out his keys and unlocked the door.

They showered. They brushed their teeth. They got comfy in pajamas. They fluffed their pillows and settled into bed. And that was when Koge couldn’t take it anymore.

Since he was on his back with one arm resting up over his eyes, Koge slowly and sneakily cuddled in close, wiggling herself under his free arm to latch herself to his body. Tenderly, she kissed his cheek, trailing more down along his jawline and neck before she settled down against him.

“You still love me?”

“Yeah.”

With a delicate touch, Koge traced her fingers along a scar he had on his upper left pectoral, watching his chest move with his calm breathing. “I really am sorry, Katsuki…”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I can’t expect you to not talk to people about us, especially if you’re looking for advice. I do it, too. It’s hypocritical of me to be mad at you for that.”

“I just feel bad it got brought up like that and it made you so uncomfortable… But we don’t ever have to talk about it again if you’re against it. There’s always other things for us to do.”

“But you really want to… right?”

Falling silent, Koge nuzzled her face more into his skin, squeezing herself in as close as she could. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, speaking quietly. “It… doesn’t matter. Yes, I have a fantasy about it, but that’s all it has to be. I’m more than satisfied with where we are now and the other things that we could do one day.” Sitting up, she plopped down to sit onto his stomach, taking hold of both his hands to push his arms up above his head and finally reveal his face. Smiling, she placed kisses all across his flushed cheeks until he huffed with annoyance, bringing her to place a final one against his lips, releasing his hands to instead caress his cheeks. “But you know what I can’t believe?”

“What?” Bakugou’s hands fell down to rest on her bare thighs, slowly moving upwards to her hips. His hands against her skin were incredibly warm, and Koge couldn’t help but share another kiss with him with a soft hum in contentment.

“Mm… I can’t believe that we have this entire night and tomorrow morning all to ourselves, and we’re spending it sitting here like little awkward turtles.”

Bakugou chuckled softly, unable to help the smirk on his lips. “Are we? I didn’t notice. Let me fix that,” While one hand stayed firmly on her hip, the other came up to caress the back of her head, pulling her down into a more passionate and tender kiss. It was quick to deepen as all tension broke, every morsel of their souls immediately craving to be close to each other, as close as one could possibly get. Before either of them truly knew it, Koge had begun to sink her body down onto his erect cock, both of them sighing in unison as every inch of her was filled to the brim. At first, they found themselves just sitting there, soaking in the feeling of being so close with passionate kisses and tender touches that screamed how strong their love for each other was. Koge could have stayed like this forever with him, but a simple shifting of his leg had him pressing up into her core, and she couldn’t resist moving another second.

Sitting up from him, Koge began with a light grinding of her hips, her hands trailing down his torso and leaving light pink marks from the raking of her nails. Although it started out very slow and sensual, it wasn’t long before Koge became lost in the pleasure, digging her nails into skin as she rode him with vigor, moaning out freely and face flushed from ear to ear. As he let her take control, Bakugou had to admit that being under her like this was incredibly addicting, completely focused on doing what she could to pleasure them both.

If he did decide to try allowing her to live out her fantasy, is that what it would be like? Would it really still feel this good and be this enjoyable for the both of them? Could it really still be just as intimate of a moment, or would he feel too vulnerable? He knew that she would take care of him and allow him to take it all at his pace, but it was still such a foreign thought to him. On top of that, all the prepping and just… foreplay that would go into it all. It was so much-

“Katsuki?”

Koge’s voice and pause of her body pulled him out of his haze he hadn’t even realized he had been lost in, pulling his eyes off the random spot on her t-shirt he had been locked on to instead look up at her face. She gazed down at him with visible worry, her hands nervously clutching at the hem of her oversized shirt to fiddle with the fabric, and he immediately felt the pit of his stomach fall at the realization that he… wasn’t as hard as he had been.

Clearly having noticed that before anything else, Koge sat up a bit until he was no longer inside her, sitting back down on his bare stomach instead. In their silence, the palpable awkwardness returned, and so did the guilt that came to rest over Koge’s shoulders.

Swallowing hard, Bakugou gave a small shake of his head, glancing everywhere he could in the dark room but at her. “I don’t know what happened, Utsuro, I… My mind wandered.”

“Did you… not want me on top? Is that bothering you right now?” Her voice was barely a whisper, fighting back a burning in her senses that bubbled with her frustration and confusion. “Or are you… actually upset with me?”

“No, no! I’m not upset with you!” Bakugou sat up, carefully shifting her from sitting on his stomach to instead on his lap. “I just got lost in thought. I’m alright, Utsuro. We can keep-”

“-No, Katsuki, it’s okay.” Koge avoided holding onto him even as he put his arms around her body, her hands still clutching at her shirt and head hung. “I should have guessed that you wouldn’t really be in the mood after all that. I didn’t mean to pressure you again.”

“You haven’t pressured me into anything.” Cupping her cheeks, Bakugou urged her to look up at him, stroking her skin with his thumbs softly. “Koge it’s not that.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was just excited to have a night alone after so long. I hadn’t wanted to spend it all upset, I thought that I could help you feel better if I… I shouldn’t have been on top. I just wanted you to relax.”

Frowning, Bakugou sighed heavily, resting his forehead against hers tenderly. “I had just started thinking… I don’t know where my mind was… It’s not your fault.”

“Bedtime?”

The question was soft, with only a timid glance up into his gaze as she kept hers mostly downcast, the disappointment and regret visible on her from head to toe. With this cut off of the issue, Bakugou knew that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her about it right now, but he also knew that he had majorly fucked up. Him going soft in the middle of sex was a very rare occasion and only happened usually when he was just too tired, but this was different. No, his thoughts had actually made him uninterested in her and in sex in general right at that moment, and his body reacted exactly how he had expected it to. But how could he tell her that? It would hurt her feelings more than he already had, and at this rate, he was going to have to try very hard in the morning just to get her to look at him.

Running his fingers through her hair softly, Bakugou gave a small shrug, kissing her forehead before replying. “If you want. But on one condition.”

“Hm?”

“You let me hold you. And give me one more kiss goodnight.”

Koge spared him a small glance and a miniscule nod after a moment of silence, allowing him to carefully scoop her up and lay them down on their sides where he promptly cuddled her in close to him. The position gave her no choice but to reciprocate, her arm slipping around his torso and legs intertwining with his, and though she was very obviously still upset, she clutched onto him like she was scared he would leave. Instead, he only held her closer, kissing her forehead before receiving that final promised kiss to the lips that she allowed to linger.

“You still love me, Utsuro?”

The repeat of the same question she had asked him earlier had Koge’s face flushing, her eyes immediately tearing up with all the frustrations she had been trying to keep down, forcing her to sniffle as she tried to hold it all back. “Yes… Always.”

“Good. Get some sleep, baby. We can talk about this more in the morning if you want.”

They didn’t.

In fact, with the first lights of sun through the blinds of the lazy morning, the couple found themselves completely entangled in each other, spending the few hours they had alternating between cuddling, falling back asleep, talking, and making love. What happened the previous night, both the conversation at the bar and while they were in bed, never came up again, even though Bakugou always expected it to. It was on the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t help but think about it all, and he knew that if he was thinking of it, she was, too. But she had promised to never bring it up again, and she didn’t. Not the rest of the day. Not for a few weeks after. Not even when Seijirou brought it up again later that month.

But Bakugou couldn’t get it out of his head, and more than anything, he found himself… curious. He knew that ‘pegging’, as he learned it was called, was actually a very popular thing. He was surprised he hadn’t heard more about it in his adult life, or even his adolescence when exploring his blossoming sexual desires on the internet was at its peak. Toys for men, sure, but letting his wife use a strap on him? It was… intimidating, and Bakugou was never one to get easily intimidated by anything. Even still, this kink wasn’t really all that scary. The couple had done much worse, even including knives, risky breath play, tight bondage, and real injury often coming out of it all with bites, bruises, and scratches. There was one clear definition, though.

It was all things that he did to her. Yes, he would often come out of a session with scratched up skin and a bruise or two where she would bite him in the midst of it all. Yes, she enjoyed it and wanted those harder sessions frequently and she never complained about it. But her, having any significant dominance over him? Never.

And he suddenly felt very selfish for it.

Koge had told him before about her fantasies and desires to be more dominant, to tie him up for once and tease him with toys and her body alike. ‘Eventually’, he would tell her, or otherwise just make some type of joke that she wouldn’t be able to handle him like that for long before she begged for him to take over. It had always been a joke to him because he knew that it would never happen. He was too dominant of a personality over her, so much larger in body size and strength that she just wouldn’t be able to push him around like she thought she could.

Not to mention that it scared him to allow it to happen.

Bakugou had always hoped that awful nagging in the back of his mind would vanish completely one day. That little voice that always told him to be bigger, be better, to take and want control, to never let or accept it when anyone put him down. It had gotten better over the years, but it was still there. He found that he just couldn’t let it happen, however subconsciously, and he was putting her down every time he did. It truly was his selfish need to hold on to that control keeping him back, no matter how much he wanted to believe it was something else.

Koge had no negative intentions, he knew that. She would never do something that truly upset him, and she would stop if he asked her to. All she wanted was a chance to live out a fantasy that she had rather than something mutual they shared. She had let him do things she was uncomfortable with at first, and every time it ended up becoming a frequent occurrence to their love making. In the end, there was no fear or excuse he could make up to explain himself of why he couldn’t do what she wanted. It was just selfishness.

If he was going to go through with this, then he needed advice. A nameless person describing and giving information on a blog was hardly helpful, especially when the opinions and tips tend to be different as he hopped along the endless links and websites. No, he needed serious advice, from someone close to him that he knew had experience with these things, or at least… some type of experience when it came to getting fucked in the ass.

One morning, Koge proclaimed that she was going to go shopping with her best friend Nene for the day, leaving him to his own devices. This was the perfect chance to see if he could gather those chosen to help him figure out what to do, since his best friend was married to Nene and had the day off from hero work, just as Bakugou did. The other person he knew wouldn’t put up much of a fight. If anything, his partner would, but there was no chance in hell that Bakugou was seeking help from the man that belittled and berated him about it in the first place.

me 2:09 pm: hey. you two free today?

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Hey, bro! Yeah man, Nene is off with Koge today.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Wait you know that.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: How did you know I was off??? Did I tell you???

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Oh, I did.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: LOL

Doey 2:11 pm: am i rlly in a txt group with blasty and hardhead rn?

Doey 2:11 pm: also ffs you txt like a hyperactive girl.

Kirishima 2:12 pm: Wait

Kirishima 2:12 pm: Dokuji????

Doey 2:13 pm: i hate it here. what do u need.

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Bakugou leaned back against the couch, rubbing his temple as he glared at the text messages scrolling by with Kirishima’s incessant multi texts and Dokuji’s snide remarks. For a moment, he thought about backing out, but the gnawing feeling of guilt made him press on.

me 2:15 pm: shut up. i asked if you were free.

Doey 2:15 pm: yeah and i said what do u need.

Kirishima 2:15 pm: Totally free!!!

me 2:16 pm: i need help with something and you two are going to help me.

Doey 2:17 pm: u have a stick up ur ass or something, dude? ffs just ask.

Doey 2:17 pm: o wait. wait. wait. you dont yet, yeah?

Kirishima 2:18 pm: Do what now???

me 2:19 pm: just come over at 5!!! fuck, i just need some help.

Doey 2:20 pm: k

Kirishima 2:20 pm: No worries, man!

Kirishima 2:20 pm: I’ll be there!

…

“Just let her shove it up your ass, dude. No lube. No prep. Just mmph- jam that shit up in there.”

“I’m not that fucking ignorant, Carrot. I know the prep it takes, we did it with her, but I don’t know the… if it’s the same.”

“Yeah, dude, it just goes in your ass, it’s not a big deal. You’re such a priss.”

With a frustrated, heavy sigh, Bakugou slumped down into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep himself calm. Dokuji was doing very little to actually help in this situation, and Kirishima wasn’t much better. ‘Just go for it’ wasn’t something he could realistically accept. He needed to know the process, to understand it from a male perspective, but both of his friends were either not getting what he wanted to know, or just refused to tell him to fluster him further. “I get the whole point. I get that the fucking thing goes in my ass. I want to know where to start, you fucking dickwad.”

“By shoving stuff up your ass, man! Do you still have the toys you used to train Koge? Use the same ones.” Dokuji pulled his legs up onto the couch, crossing them comfortably and leaving his slippers on the floor. “You’ll still want to start small, even if you’re like… three times the size of her.”

“Nene and I started with just fingers and stuff during foreplay,” Kirishima finally spoke up after a while of embarrassed silence. “And we just moved on to bigger and bigger toys after a while. Took like… three months to get to a decent strap on size. But I also did some training on my own when I’d… y’know.” Clearing his throat, he sipped nervously from the glass of wine Bakugou had offered him, timid crimson gaze flashing between the two other men without making eye contact. “You have to do a lot on your own.”

“Finding time to myself is a problem. I rarely need to jack off, anyway. Koge always wants to fuck, so if I’m horny, she’s all over me.” Taking a sip from his own glass of wine, Bakugou stretched his long legs out in front of him, his aching knees popping. “I wouldn’t even have the time to if I needed to. If I’m not here, I’m at work. And if I’m here, Koge’s here.”

Dokuji gave a yawn, leaning his head back. “Make time. In the shower is the best, really, I doubt she joins you every time.”

“She would if I let her, but she knows I need my space, too. Just like she needs hers. I just know that she’s going to catch on… She’s too intuitive.”

“Oh, you aren’t going to tell her you're prepping for it? What, you just want to surprise her one day?” Dokuji smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Just lay on the bed, displayed for her with a plug in your ass? Candles lit, rose petals-”

“-Okay, shut the fuck up-”

“-wine, lube, soft jazz-”

“-Carrot-!”

“-oh no wait, you’d rather have heavy metal, right?! So she can really pound you-”

“-Alright, I get it!” Bakugou finally barked, glaring daggers at the snarky older man. “Not telling her is stupid! But I don’t want her to expect it!”

“Why don’t you want to tell her?” Kirishima asked curiously, taking a quick glance at his phone as he received a text, the alert a soft ding that vibrated through the room. “Are you embarrassed to? Or you really just want to surprise her?”

“I just know that she’d try to talk me out of it, now. Or she’d feel like she guilted me into doing it, and then she wouldn’t enjoy it. Surprising her would be more fun, for her. That’s the whole point of this. Also, I’d rather try to hide it just in case it’s something that I end up not being able to do… I don’t want to get her hopes up just to bail.”

Kirishima gave a soft hum in understanding, rubbing his chin as he thought. “True… You’ll just have to find time to prep and practice without her around.”

“I hardly even know where to start, though.”

Suddenly, Dokuji stood, beginning to make his way up the stairs to the second floor of the home. With a click of his tongue, Bakugou stood as well, placing his glass of wine and phone down on the coffee table at his knees. “Excuse me, where the fuck are you going?”

“To find your fucking stash! You want to know how to start, I have to see what you have!” Dokuji huffed as he continued up the stairs and around the corner before Bakugou could even take his first step, though the blonde was quick to leap two steps at a time to catch up the instant Dokuji finished with his proclamation.

“Hey, wait, Carrot! You can’t just go dig around in my fucking house!”

“I’m not! I knew you were going to follow me, so hurry the fuck up!” Dokuji glowered at Bakugou as he waited at the entrance to the master bedroom, being respectful enough to not go in. “Show the goods.”

Glancing behind him as Kirishima joined them, Bakugou felt heat spread from his ears across his cheeks, starting to feel that nervous nausea beginning to build up in his stomach. Was he really about to discuss sex toys with his friends? The thought of digging through and picking what toys he should use from Koge’s stash was horrifically embarrassing, but he knew that if he didn’t have their help, he may end up too ambitious and ruin any chances of success he had. So, with a deep breath and a hard swallow to keep down the vomit, he headed into his bedroom, allowing the other two to follow him in. “Just… stay by the bed, I’ll bring them out.”

“All of them.” Dokuji reiterated, meandering around the room as he looked around curiously in wait while Bakugou shuffled into the walk-in closet. Though, little did he know that there were too many for Bakugou to just carry. So, the blonde dumped out a dirty laundry bin on the floor for the meantime, placing the toys inside it from the drawer they had been hidden in. He was a bit too ambitious with his scooping and dumping, accidentally startling himself as one turned onto a high vibration and he had to rush to turn it off, feeling his face flush once again at the amused scoff from the bedroom.

Once sure he had them all, he carried the basket back into the bedroom, placing it on the bed and allowing the two other men to come look at the contents. Dokuji gave a click of his tongue, starting to dig through them to find the ones he thought would be appropriate. “Fuck, most of these are anal toys already. This rivals Seiji’s collection. Actually, some of these are the same!”

“Kook probably suggested some to her.”

“I don’t doubt it. Okay, man, here’s the deal. When doing this on yourself, don’t use shit like this.” Dokuji held up a gel silicone dildo that had no base, wiggling it a bit to emphasize his point. “With all the lube you have to use, you’ll lose it up your ass. And believe me, that’s not a fun ER visit.” He tossed it to the side, along with others that were similar to it. “Avoid these bead things.” More tossed to the side. “This is like a g-spot toy, fuck that. Fuck that, too. You’ll never get to that size, fuck that one.” With each one tossed to the side, Bakugou grew more and more irritated, wishing that Dokuji would just pick out the ones that would be good instead of going over what was bad. But, before he could retort, Dokuji finally grabbed a couple of small beginner metal anal toys that they had first used with Koge.

“Here! These fucking things. Though, they’re almost about as wide as your fucking sausage fingers, so maybe you can just finger yourself instead if you’re scared of these.” He put down the set of toys, tapping on one a few times to focus on it. “Though this plug would be good for training. Wear it during the day when you know you’re going to practice that day. Eventually, you can work yourself up in size. Here,” He dug through the collection again, finding a variety of anal plug sizes and setting them out in order. “I’d work yourself up to at least being able to handle this size before you let her use anything on you.”

“Leave it in…? For hours?” Bakugou’s nose scrunched in annoyance, unsure he could function with something in his ass like that for hours. “I mean… Koge did it, but I didn’t think that was so much of a requirement.”

“Don’t puss out, it’s not that bad. It’s not like a constant pleasure type of thing. Yeah, you feel it, but if you aren’t turned on, it doesn’t affect you. I mean, yeah, it can turn you on feeling it, but just don’t until you’re ready, y’know?”

“That makes no fucking sense…” Bakugou looked over at Kirishima for some type of emotional support, though Kirishima just nodded in agreement with Dokuji.

“You gotta do it, man. I mean… I even went to work with it and stuff. Like if you know that’s gonna be a part of your night, it’s actually kind of hot to wear it all day. It’s exciting, and Nene goes crazy for it!”

“And what size are you at?”

“That big one.” Kirishima gestured to the largest size of plug. “Nene uses that size of dildo on me. The one that Doey said you’d never get to? Yeah, that one.”

“Tch… and you’ve been doing this shit for, what? How long?”

“Uhmmm I think like five or six years, man. We don’t do it all the time, and it started out with her just sticking a finger in my ass one night, and it was like wow, y’know? Like boom, fireworks in my gut.”

“I just don’t see how it could feel good…” Bakugou grumbled as he picked up a different toy that Dokuji had sectioned off as appropriate for use, one which he and Koge used very early on during her journey so that she could have the feeling of double penetration. “Even for Koge, I don’t get it, but she gets off on anal way more than regular sex most of the time.”

“We have a little thing in our ass called a prostate. It’s kind of like a woman's g-spot. I guess.” Dokuji rubbed the back of his head, glancing over his selected toys to see if they were appropriate for him to suggest. “It’s like… I don’t fucking know how to describe it. If you don’t do shit right, it can hurt, so just take your time, use more lube than you think you need, and listen to your body. If shit feels off, then stop. But yeah, work your way up in size for these toys here. Clean the shit out of them when you’re done, and then do whatever you want to hide the fact that you’re using them from Koge.”

“How often should I be practicing?”

“Any time you jerk off. At least a few times a week, though it also just depends on how fast you want to get to the fun stuff, man. Also how your body reacts to it all. Maybe you already have a loose asshole, who knows.”

Face flushing, Bakugou scoffed as he began to pile the toys back into the laundry basket to return them to the drawer, though he did make a strong mental note of the specific toys and order that Dokuji had laid out for him. “Whatever. Anything else?”

“What type of lube do you use?”

“We don’t even have any right now…”

“Huh? Koge does anal and you don’t have lube? The fuck is wrong with you two, masochists-”

“It’s not that! The woman is like a fucking waterfall, she doesn’t need it. Kirishima, does Nene need it?!”

“Oh, Nene won’t do anal.” Kirishima shook his head, cheeks growing pink with the sudden question. “She has this weird thing about being on the receiving end of that. Something about not wanting to have to use diapers when she’s an old woman?” Brow furrowing, Kirishima rubbed the back of his head. “Hopefully that doesn’t happen…”

“It’s not going to happen unless you constantly use huge dildos. And by huge, I mean fucking four plus inches in thickness. You’re fine, man.” With an amused chuckle, Dokuji gave Kirishima a firm pat on the shoulder before he began to leave the room, calling out loud enough for Bakugou to hear as he headed down the hallway. “Get some lube made for anal! Not the numbing shit, though! I’ll text you a brand I recommend once I remember what the fuck it is.”

Slowly shuffling out of the closet once he was done putting the toys away, Bakugou rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, barely able to keep eye contact with Kirishima before he felt a rush of embarrassment and had to look away. With a cough to clear his throat, he shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets, fighting against the awkwardness that he knew he was the only one experiencing. “Thanks. I know this is fucking stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Kirishima grinned, his sharp teeth and bright smile enough to lighten any mood. “I wish I had someone to talk to when I first started with Nene! It’s intimidating, but it’s awesome that you’re doing this for her. I think you’ll both enjoy it more than you think.”

“It just makes me feel vulnerable in a… weird way.”

“It’s just Koge. I’m sure she’s seen you in way more vulnerable situations, and she won’t take advantage of you or anything weird like that. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure…”

“Don’t do doggy.” Kirishima held up a finger as he spoke, as if he were giving an important life lesson or lecture. “That’s a really vulnerable feeling position. You’re too… big of a dude to ride her, technically, and you shouldn’t do that your first time anyway. So stick with missionary. You can at least see her that way. It’s more intimate.”

Bakugou felt the fire of his face grow hotter the longer Kirishima spoke, until his ears were burning, and his eyes began to ache. Just the thought of any of it made him want to crawl under his covers and hide, his chest aching with the anxiety of it all. Still, all of this information he gained was extremely helpful and guided him in the right direction, and he wasn’t sure he’d feel confident enough to go through with it without his friends' support. So, he gave Kirishima a strong pat on the arm, before using little pressure to direct his friend out of the bedroom.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Sure! Anything you need, just let me know-”

“Uncle Doey?! Why are you here?!”

The sudden loud racket in the living room immediately made Bakugou almost lose his lunch, hearing the soft voice of his lover greeting Dokuji behind the multitude of children's voices. “Ah fuck, they’re home already.” As casually as he could without looking like he was rushing, Bakugou made his way down the stairs, doing everything in his power to swallow his embarrassment and restrain the fire beneath his skin. He caught Koge’s gaze immediately, giving her a small nod in greeting as she smiled at him.

“Having some boy time?” Struggling with many shopping bags hanging off her arms, Bakugou was quick to jog to her side and help, taking them from her and placing them off out of the way on the floor near the fireplace. “Thank you, love.”

“Sure, Utsuro. And yeah I just figured we’d… hang out for a bit while you were shopping.”

“Fun!”

Before he could say anything else, his daughter's voice caught his attention, looking over to watch Natsuki as she wandered around Dokuji, who was purposefully keeping his back to her.

“Uncle Doey, why are you here?! Is Uncle Seiji here? Did you bring me a gift?” The blonde four-year-old circled him, though Dokuji continued to playfully ignore her.

“What is that buzzing sound? I hear a little gnat or something. Matsuki, do you hear it?” Dokuji turned his attention to the young blonde boy that was the spitting image of Bakugou, doing his best to restrain a laugh as Natsuki tried to wave her arms to get his attention. Matsuki, who was currently pulling books out of a bag, gave a shy smile and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s been happening all day. Just a weird buzzing sound.”

“It is weird. Where’s the little bug?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Natsuki finally snatched onto his hand, tugging eagerly. The instant she grabbed him, Dokuji took hold of her hand and yoinked her up into the air, making her squeal and burst out with laughter, clambering to take hold of him as he swung her around to sit up on his shoulders.

“Ah, there’s the bug! How’s it going, squirt?”

“Uncle Doey, you’re so mean, pretending I wasn’t there!” Natsuki wrapped her arms around his head, shoving her face into his feathery orange hair. “So mean! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, kiddo. So what did you go do today? Looks like you spent a lot of money.”

“It wasn’t my money, silly! It’s Daddy’s money!”

Dokuji couldn’t help but to laugh, moving to sit on the couch with the little girl still latched to his head. “Oh man, Bakugou, she’s a hoot. Better check your bank account.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but give an amused scoff, though he did peer down at Koge as she immediately began to leak guilt. “You went over the budget, didn’t you?”

“N-not by much, no. But I bought winter clothes for me, you, and the kids! Matsuki needed new books to read and crafting supplies, and Natsuki was just begging for this and that. It just went over-” She was cut off as Bakugou cupped both her cheeks, leaning in to kiss her to silence to rambling to explain.

“I’m picking on you. I already knew you’d go over. It’s okay. You didn’t have to shop for me, though, I told you that.” Letting up on her face, he gave her another kiss, feeling exceptionally affectionate. “Thanks, though. I’m excited to see what you got.”

Koge smiled softly, stealing one more kiss before he released her. “I just saw some stuff I knew would look great on you; I couldn’t resist. On top of that, half your winter clothes don’t fit anymore ‘cause you just keep gaining muscle. You have to stop that.”

“I’d turn into flab if I stopped. And I’d probably get my ass kicked. It’s one or the other, babe.”

“Just keep your cute butt, it’s fine. Oh, I also got your new set of reading glasses that you needed.”

“What?!” Kirishima spoke up from across the room, standing next to his wife with his twin children hanging off his impressive biceps. “Bakugou, you wear glasses already?!”

Face flushing, Bakugou stuttered as he snatched the small box Koge had pulled from a bag, immediately shoving it into his pocket to hide them. “Shut up! Only to read!”

“Daddy! You wear glasses, too!” Kirishima’s young daughter Otoha spoke up, dropping to the floor. “But only in the sun!” Chuckling, Kirishima put his son Daiki down as well, allowing the twins to run off as Natsuki leaped off the back of the couch to chase them.

“Those are sunglasses, darlin’.”

“Oh shove it!” Bakugou snapped, storming off into the kitchen with his petite wife at his heels. “You jerks want more wine!?”

“Oh, Seijirou’s not here?” Koge stopped, looking back at Dokuji, who had his phone out. At the sound of his lover’s name, Dokuji looked up, a moment of confusion flashing across his face as he tried to figure out how to explain this without giving Bakugou away.

“Ah… he wasn’t up to it.”

“Really? How weird, I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m gonna head out, anyway.” Dokuji stood, immediately gaining protest from Natsuki as she ran back up to him to latch to his legs. “I was already out when I dropped by, so he’s probably wondering where I am, anyway. Natsu, I’ll see you next weekend, okay?” Squatting down, he gave the pouting little girl a hug, standing and heading towards the front door with her still latched to him. “It’s the last weekend before Uncle Seiji and I go to America. We’ll visit for sure.”

“Nooo, don’t go away! That’ll be forever!”

“We’re just going to be in America for a few months, squirt. And we’re bringing back a big surprise. Remember?”

“Serina?”

“That’s right.” Dokuji smiled softly as he sat Natsuki down, ruffling her wild blonde hair as he shoved his feet back into his boots without lacing them. “We’re bringing Serina home. Uncle Seiji and I have to finalize her adoption papers and wait for her to be old enough before we can bring her on a plane.” As Bakugou approached, Dokuji shoved his wallet and keys into his baggy pant pockets, looking up at him curiously.

“Let us know if you need anything before you head out. You good?”

“Yeah man, no worries. I hope I was helpful.”

“You were, even if you were a smartass. We’ll see you next weekend. Don’t tell Eguchi about this, I don’t think I’ll ever live it down.”

“My lips are sealed until yours aren’t. Later,” An informal bow, a wave to the rest of the people in the house, and a final goodbye to Natsuki was shared before Dokuji left, leaving Bakugou to shut and lock the door behind him. After shooing his daughter away from the front door, Bakugou immediately caught Koge’s gaze, his face flaring up again with fire at the reminder of everything that had been discussed that day. Seeming to notice, Koge gave a small nod for him to follow her into the kitchen, which brought that feeling of vomiting back to his gut. He had to hide all of this from her for now, no matter how guilty that made him feel. But he also knew that Koge would be able to read him like a book if he didn’t get control of himself.

Once alone with his wife in the kitchen, he decided to busy himself with fetching a fresh bottle of wine from the rack, grabbing two clean glasses for Koge and Nene as well. “What’s up, Utsuro?”

Arms crossed over her chest, Koge leaned back against the kitchen island, watching him closely. “You had some boy time, huh?”

“Yeah, we just sat around and talked for a while. Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just interesting that Dokuji came without Seijirou. Usually they’re attached at the hip, and Dokuji hates socializing. Did something happen, or is something wrong?”

Waiting to answer until he pulled the cork out of the bottle successfully, Bakugou put the trash and corkscrew aside, pouring equal amounts of wine into the glasses. “There’s nothing wrong, Utsuro. I invited Dokuji to bring Eguchi if he wanted, but he said he didn’t want to. Eguchi and I have trouble getting along, anyway, if you’re not around… I can see why he didn’t.”

“That’s not true. You two get along better than you think.” Making her way to stand next to him, Koge slipped her arm around his waist, resting up against his side as his arm tucked her in close. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was fine. I can’t believe you spilled about my glasses, though.” Glowering down at her, he gave her a good squeeze in punishment, forcing a giggle from her lips. He hoped to change the subject so she wouldn’t pry, and he seemed successful right off the bat.

“Sorry! I thought you would have told Eijirou already. Don’t be embarrassed, love, it’s okay.” Turning to face him completely, she cupped both of his cheeks, stroking his burning skin with her chilled thumbs. “You look so cute with glasses. Very distinguished.”

“They make me look like my dad…” Grumbling under his breath, Bakugou placed one of his hands over hers, turning his head to place tender kisses across her palm and fingers. “Mmm… what’s this lotion smell?”

“It’s like a citrus thing. I couldn’t resist it after trying it on, so I bought some. You like it?”

Slipping his hand around her waist, Bakugou pulled the petite woman up against him, his lips continuing his affections down her arm. “Smells good. I think I need to lather you up in that sometime.”

“Ooh, like a sexy rub down?”

“Yeah, baby. Full body.” He released her hand to put both his arms around her, caressing her small body and urging her up into a kiss. Koge sighed softly against his lips in happiness from the affection, holding onto him tightly as he nearly lifted her up off her feet. He wanted her so badly in that moment, to soak in her affection and have his frustrated thoughts crushed under the happiness being with her brought him. But, nothing affectionate could last in a house full of children, and he was forced to release her at the sound of his daughter screeching for him.

“Daddy! Daddy?! Are you in the kitchen?!”

Setting his wife down, Bakugou got one last peck out of her before setting her free, looking over at the entrance to the kitchen as his daughter bounced in, her spiked pale blonde hair perfectly matching the wild look on her face. The instant her crimson eyes landed on him, Natsuki dashed over, quickly followed by Matsuki and Kirishima’s two children. Although Bakugou knew exactly what was going to be requested, he decided to ask anyway, ruffling the top of his daughter’s hair as she came up to him.

“What’s up, squid?”

“Daddy, can you make us a snack? Like, a yummy snack. A pizza!”

“Pizza isn’t a snack, that’s dinner. Are you hungry for dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah! Pizza!”

Seeing Kirishima and Nene come in to join the group, Bakugou turned his attention to them, ignoring the feeling of Natsuki swinging his arm back and forth as she waited for her answer. “Would you like to join us?”

“Sure!” Nene smiled happily, plopping down to sit on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “We haven’t had a full family hang out like this in a while!”

“But first,” Kirishima stood behind her, one arm around her body while he leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbow on the countertop. “You gotta put on your glasses, man, I can’t take the unknown!”

“Daddy is so cute with his glasses!” Natsuki giggled at the immediate glare Bakugou shot her way, sticking her tongue out at him as she went deadweight, swaying back and forth with only her grip on his hand to keep her up. “He actually looks smart!”

“‘Actually’? Are you saying I look dumb otherwise?” Bakugou picked her up, holding the giggling and snickering child by the arm up near his chest. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah! Daddy’s got a dumb face- pfft, hey! No!” Immediately with the insult, Bakugou flipped her in the air and snatched her by the legs so that she was upside down. “Daddy! You’re gonna make me dizzy!” Although she complained, she giggled and cackled as Bakugou walked her over to the refrigerator, guiding her to open it and grab a bottle of juice for the kids to enjoy. “Yay, melon juice! That’s a treat! Can I drink it upside down?”

“No, you goof, you’ll spill it. Here, put it on the counter.”

Once four child sized cups and a bag of chips was gathered in the same upside-down manner, Bakugou held Natsuki up high enough to give her a punishing kiss on the cheek before plopping her back down to stand normally on her feet.

“Alright,” Bakugou began, opening the bottle of juice and catching the gaze of his lover nearby, who was already holding the phone up to her ear to order the demanded pizza. “Let’s get this party started, eh?”

…

“A-ah, fuck-!” Bakugou bit down on his bottom lip, pressing his forehead into the cool tile of the shower wall, eyes shut tightly as he did everything he could to keep his voice down. With one leg propped up on the seat they had built into the shower long ago, he kept his gaze locked onto his thigh, watching the warm water that cascaded down his back dribble and gather around his foot, doing all he could to focus. The pleasure made that incredibly difficult, one hand pumping his erect cock while the other was reached around behind him, two fingers plunging in and out of his asshole eagerly. Two months into preparing and practicing to allow Koge to use a strap on him had passed, and he had gotten to the point where he actually enjoyed the pleasure he gained from anal stimulation.

Could he cum from it alone? No, he wasn’t quite there yet, but it did enhance it all for him in a way that he couldn’t really describe. Whatever sensitive little spot there was inside him really did drive him mad, and he would even get hard just thinking about it. He had also come to realize that going a normal day with an anal plug was not as easy as his friends had made it out to be, and that part of his training had been the most frustrating and difficult. But, it was effective, and Bakugou had gotten to where he could take at least a one and a half inch in width dildo comfortably. With the success of cumming with that, he knew that it was time to get Koge in on this, which is exactly what he was prepping for now.

He had done the whole deal that Kirishima had talked to him about all day, from wearing a plug most of the day to masturbating at least a little bit before to loosen his body up. The kids were bummed off on his parents, so he didn’t have to worry about that, and Koge was waiting patiently in their bedroom, reading or doing who knows what. From what he could tell, she didn’t suspect anything, but he hoped that he could pull off being just his regular self-up until the very moment he decided to bring it up. He wanted to at least get them going, to pleasure her and get her all riled up so that she would want to do it.

As he grew closer to his peak in the shower, just the thought of her using a strap on him brought on a new tingling under his skin, an excitement that he hadn’t experienced yet and that was so different from his initial thoughts about this so many months ago. His fear had blossomed into anticipation, and what he was so against before was something he now craved. He wanted so badly to do this with her, and he just hoped that it wouldn’t end up an awful or awkward experience.

Clamping his teeth together and eyes shut tightly, it took all his willpower to not moan out as he finally came, the release so intense that his entire body felt weak in the few seconds afterwards. Fuck that feels good… It’ll be so intense with her doing it. Ugh, stop thinking about it, you idiot, you’ll get hard again too soon! That’s what I get for not fucking her on purpose the past few days, too, I guess. I just hope she’s as horny as I am. Pushing himself up to stand up straight, Bakugou finished up his very thorough shower and cleaned up the tile wall, doing everything he could to not think about Koge’s body or the pleasure he was hoping for.

It didn’t help that the petite woman sitting on their bed was already practically naked, sitting within the puffy mess of pillows and blankets in nothing but her favorite silk nightgown. Very engrossed in whatever book she was reading, Bakugou took it upon himself to get her attention, grabbing a pillow and playfully whacking her with it hard enough to make her whine and topple over to the side, her book quickly abandoned in favor of trying to grab the pillow in his hands.

“Rude! I was reading.”

“Reading time is over, it’s time to pay attention to me.” His first pillow now out of commission, he simply grabbed another to smack her with, forcing giggles from her lips as she kicked her legs in defiance.

“There’s nicer ways to get attention!”

“But this is more fun.” Crawling up onto the bed, he began to pile the pillows on her body, unable to resist a smirk in amusement of her giggles. She was so adorable to him and he found himself just wanting to snatch onto her, but he didn’t have the chance as she exploded from the pile of pillows, tackling him down onto the bed with a war cry and expert skill. Her tiny frame was no match for him in such a battle, and he was easily able to roll them over and pin her beneath him, her arms held up over her head and legs fastened around his hips. She attempted to struggle and push him off with her feet against his hips, but found that she was no match for his brawny frame, a pout crossing her lips with her defeat.

“You’re too fat! I can’t wrestle with you anymore like when we were teenagers. I could even win sometimes! Now I can’t even get both my hands around your forearm.”

“That’s because you’re a little shrimp. My cute little shrimp.” His hands sliding up her arms, he let their fingers lace, placing tender kisses down the bridge of her flushed nose. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Cheeks flushing darker from the affection, Koge couldn’t resist her ear to ear smile, squeezing his hips playfully with her thighs. “You’re being so extra affectionate today. All day you’ve been so mushy! I love it.”

“Yeah? Well, you make it hard for me not to be.”

“I also just make you hard… apparently.” With a playful nuzzle of their noses, Koge rolled her hips up against his, stroking her exposed sex along the hard form of his cock beneath his boxers. “Hm?”

Smirk crossing his lips, Bakugou moved to hold both Kobe’s wrists in one hand, the other moving down to hold her hip to grind himself back against her. “Who could blame me?” A low groan rumbled in his chest as he rested his forehead against hers, merely teasing her with a hint of a kiss while his movements grew more eager. “You’re so fucking sexy in that little nightgown, and just the thought of getting to fuck you all day has been driving me crazy.”

“Well you have me now, Katsuki,” Each attempt she made to kiss him was fruitless as he continued to pull back every time, only making her more frustrated and push their grinding even further, until she was panting and gasping softly. “All to yourself. So why don’t you show me what you’ve been wanting?”

“No, baby,” Bakugou ran hot kisses and nibbles along her neck and jawline, releasing her arms to caress her entire small frame up against him tighter. “I want you to tell me what you want. To do what you want. Anything.” Catching her gaze, he saw surprise only for a moment before excitement took over, her mind immediately going to work to decide on what exactly it was she wanted. That guilt he had felt for being so selfish in their sexual endeavors creeped back upon him in that moment, but her eagerness was quick to pull him back as her hands slipped down between their bodies, freeing his cock from his boxers.

“I just want you inside me, Katsuki. I just want you to make me cum… please.”

“You don’t have to beg, Utsuro. I told you. Anything you want.” Once her hands were moved out of the way, Bakugou took the chance to sink his entire length into her, bringing a pleasured groan from his throat as Koge moaned. “Ah fuck..! You want to cum, baby? I’ll make you cum-“

“A-ah, yes! Yes!” Koge clutched onto him tightly, pleasure rocketing through her body with the rhythmic thrusting of his hips. The sweet squeaking of her voice as he dug himself deep into her core was enough to drive Bakugou mad, wanting to give her more just so he could hear her moan and scream louder for him. He wanted to do all of this for her, to give her anything she wanted, and her first orgasm was quick to clash into her like a violent wave. It came with nails in his skin, fingers clutching his hair and her body trembling and twitching against him, her voice praising him and soft lips against his ear. This woman was perfection, and he’d be damned if he left her unsatisfied or unhappy for a single moment.

Before her high could dissipate, he returned to rolling his hips in slower and softer motions, moving his lips back to hers as he dug his fingers into her hair. “You like that, babygirl? You want more?”

Struggling to speak between her moans, his kisses, and hitching breath, Koge kept her eyes locked with his, her nails raking down his sides to send ticklish and pleasured tingles across his skin. “K-Katsuki… You’ll do anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“I… Can I sit on your face? Please?”

“Don’t ask me.” Bakugou increased his efforts, slamming into her rougher to get his point across, sending her into a new round of moans with the eye rolling pleasure. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“Mm… I- I, a-ah-! I want…- Fu-fuck, fuck! Your cock feels so fucking good, I can’t think!”

Smirking against her lips, Bakugou took this opportunity to tease her a bit, sliding his hand under her head to grab a fist full of her hair. “You have to tell me, Utsuro, or I can’t stop. This is all you… So tell me.”

“I-I want to sit on your face! Please-!”

“-No begging-!”

“Now!” Koge clutched onto his cheeks, fighting through the pleasure to press her forehead into his and glare up at him in frustration. “Lay your ass down!”

“Mm fuck, that’s it, baby. You’re so sexy when you’re aggressive.” Bakugou kissed her passionately, stopping his movements to instead scoop her body up against his, maneuvering them to where he was laying on his back. Not a second passed that he was settled that Koge had shifted herself off his cock to instead straddle his head, steadying herself on the headboard of the bed. Bakugou took to eating her out immediately once her hips were in his grip, doing what he could to ignore the antsy twitching of his cock at the sound of her moans.

He had an idea of why she had chosen this exact position. Even though Bakugou truly did love eating her out, this was never particularly one of his favorite ways to do so, and they had talked about that many times. Koge, however, loved it, and he knew that it was more rare for her than what she would have liked. They compromised how they could, of course, and nearly every sexual endeavor they had involved him eating her out one way or another. But by choosing to do it this way, he knew that she was really testing him to see if he was being honest, and he was glad she was being so bold, especially with what his endgame was. He needed her to be bold and firm enough to either ask for the pegging, or to accept his request when he brings it up.

“K-Katsuki,” Koge spoke breathlessly, digging her fingers into his hair as she was unable to resist a slow rocking of her hips. “R-right there! Ah, fuck!” Her body began to tremble, his hands sliding up her body to grip and squeeze her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples as he pleased. How turned on she had become was apparent by the incredible flow of her essence that coated his face, and when she finally came again, he couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of it beginning to drip down the sides of his neck. This is exactly how he wanted her, so eager and consumed with pleasure that she would push him for the things she wanted. Her next demand came after a moment of resting to catch her breath, loosening the tight grip her thighs had on his head.

“When I move, put your arms up above your head and keep them there.” Carefully, Koge slipped backwards to sit on his chest, then his stomach, until she came to rest between his legs. Bakugou did as commanded, resting his arms under his head comfortably to watch her, though he couldn’t help a slight twinge of embarrassment as his boxers were stripped and flung away to the void that was their bedroom floor. He didn’t really know where the embarrassment came from. Maybe it was the glee in her gaze that made him feel flustered? It was obvious that she was excited, and he wanted to know exactly what was running through that clever head of hers.

With a firm touch, Koge took his aching cock into her hands, teasing his tip with her hot tongue and letting her saliva flow freely to stroke up and down his length with ease. Just this initial touch from her was enough to make him want to reach down and dig his fingers into her hair, but Bakugou did as he was told, keeping his arms in place as she pleasured him. Well, in truth, it was more like teasing, giving him only hints of true pleasure with every touch, lick, and kiss. It only made him ache more, and he couldn’t resist a light rising or bucking of his hips when it was too much, groaning and cursing in his frustration.

“Damn it, Utsuro…! That’s driving me fucking crazy!”

“Is it?” Koge smirked against his sensitive flesh, her hands squeezing and stroking slowly all the way up his shaft until right below his tip, before sliding back down to avoid his most pleasurable areas. Again, Bakugou couldn’t resist a frustrated grunt and shifting of his hips, now clutching on to the pillow beneath his head.

“Yes! You’re being a tease!”

“You were the one that said I could do whatever I wanted. Here, let’s do something different, then.” Gripping his legs behind his knees, Koge pushed up and back until his body was bent, immediately making Bakugou flush a bright red and shout out in surprise. “You’re so flexible, Katsuki! All that stretching and weird movements do you pay off.”

“U-Utsuro, what the fuck-”

“Hold your legs, pretty please?” Koge leaned over him, smiling slyly in pleasure at just how flustered Bakugou was becoming, and it only grew as he followed her direction to hold onto his legs to keep his body contorted how she wanted. He wasn’t quite used to having his dick so close to his face, or his entire body exposed in such a way, but he couldn’t protest. He had given her this chance, and even if it was different for him, it wasn’t something that he hated. He just needed to adjust and let it all happen, and the excited throbbing of his cock was confirmation enough that he wanted to let it happen.

“Hmmm, I’ve never had a view like this before.” Koge slipped one arm into an easy position so that she could continue to stroke his member, slowly and lightly pleasuring him as she trailed kisses and nibbles along the underside of his thigh. “You being so shy is cute, but you’re so sexy, Katsuki.” Within the same breath as her words, she ran her tongue along the form of his balls, sucking them into her mouth and increasing the tightness of her hand around his cock. Bakugou couldn’t resist the deep groan that rattled in his chest, though he found it difficult to keep a hold of his legs or stay in position, and he nearly crumbled into himself the instant her tongue slid across his asshole.

“Ah fuck, Utsuro-” Bakugou did what he could to control the nervous waiver of his voice, though he wasn’t as successful as he would have hoped. “Straight to it, eh?”

“Well I have a question for you.” Koge continued to tease his sensitive skin, from the base of his cock to his waiting hole, her fingers still pleasuring his straining cock. “I’ve noticed that some of my toys have been missing from my drawer for a while… And even some of my anal plugs. There’s even an unmarked bottle of liquid hidden under your sink in the bathroom. Did you really think you could hide it from me?”

Throat growing strangled from the confrontation, Bakugou couldn’t find it within himself to answer, though his embarrassed crimson gaze locking with hers was clearly enough of a confession as Koge’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Ah ha… I knew it. What a guilty look. I had thought at first that maybe you pulled them out to use on me. But when that never happened, I began to suspect something else… But I couldn’t ever be sure.” Slipping her hand between her legs, Koge coated it in her slick before running her delicate fingers around his sensitive hole. “And it’s extra clean down here, even for just taking a shower. You wanted me to want this, huh?” As two of her fingers slipped inside him, Bakugou couldn’t stop a sharp intake of breath, his cock twitching eagerly in her hand and face burning violently.

Even though her fingers were small, the pleasure of her moving them within him paired with the more rigorous stroking of his cock and new sucking on his balls brought forth a restrained moan, leaning his head back and doing what he could to push down the embarrassment to enjoy it. He had always been pretty vocal during sex, and those sounds pushed through the attempted restraint easily, especially as the pleasure grew. It felt so good, more than he had ever really expected, though when her fingers finally curved at just the right angle, he nearly lost it, releasing one of his legs to reach down and take hold of her head.

“S-stop! Wait-!”

Confused, Koge did as asked, removing her fingers from him in worry that she had hurt him. “What’s wrong? Did I do something that hurt you?”

“No-” Breathing heavily to catch his breath from the rush, Bakugou ran his fingers through her hair gently, leaning his head back and closing his eyes to ground himself. “No. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“It was that fast?”

“I just wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t expect it to feel so different with you doing it instead. I have something for you, anyway.” Reaching down between the mattress and headboard, Bakugou pulled out a plastic bag that held said surprise, shoving it towards her and dropping it into her waiting hands before he let himself bail on the entire thing. Immediately upon feeling the concealed item, Koge’s eyes lit up and her face flushed bright red, digging her nails into the plastic to rip it open instead of taking the extra time to undo the knot that held it closed.

The excited squeal that left her lips immediately had Bakugou covering his eyes with his arms, groaning in momentary regret, though it was drowned out by her excited rambling. “Katsuki! Are you serious? Are you sure? You’ve prepped this much? This one is nice, it’s double ended! Oh, and fancy lube! You really mean it-”

“-Of course I mean it!” Bakugou snapped to silence her, though he couldn’t find the confidence to remove his arms from over his face. “But you had better get on with it before I change my mind, or my boner goes away!”

“Neither is gonna happen.”

The sound of the bag being tossed away and the bed shifting as Koge sat up on her knees to put on the strap only increased Bakugou’s nervousness, closing his hands into tight fists as he struggled to even keep his quirk in check, which was a feeling he hadn’t had since high school. All the thoughts he had months ago came rushing back to him, making his stomach twist and head spin. It was time now, and there wasn’t any going back, not without absolutely crushing her.

I can take it. It’ll be fine. It’s just Koge. She won’t make me feel small or vulnerable. It’s fine-

“Katsuki.”

The soft and comforting sound of her voice pulled him back, bringing attention to the fact that he had been breathing quite heavily in his panic. Gathering himself, he moved his arms just enough to be able to peek up at her, the burning in his face somehow growing hotter just at the sight of her, strap in place and smiling down at him softly. She had removed her nightgown and was left mostly bare, her soft beauty bringing back those urges of pleasure in whatever way he could have her. Though, she surprised him as she held her hands out, wiggling her fingers to urge him to take them.

“Sit up, love.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bakugou took Koge’s hands and sat up, sliding his hands up her arms as she moved to straddle his lap. Her delicate touch sent tingles all across his skin as her hands worked their way up to caress his cheeks, and her tender kisses soothed his nerves almost instantly. She was so understanding of him, not moving on in pleasuring him until his hands moved down to take a generous squeeze of her backside, to which she responded in kind by stroking his strained and twitching member. Though, she was quick to pair it with the pressure of the toy she had strapped to her hips, using both her hands to hold it against his cock and rock her hips lightly. At some point before she got on him, she had slathered the toy in lube already without him noticing, and he couldn’t help but groan eagerly against her lips.

“I’ll be gentle with you, Katsuki. Unless you tell me otherwise.” Koge caught his gaze, nudging her nose against his to keep his attention. “How do you want to lay?”

“Just… on my back. I can’t promise I won’t cum fast, I’m struggling.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just make you eat me out again if I don’t get to before you do.”

“Tch,” Bakugou couldn’t resist the smirk on his lips, letting one of his hands come down hard onto her backside in punishment of her snarky comment. “Whatever you want, baby. But you’d better hurry up before I change my mind.” Gripping tightly onto her hips, Bakugou used his strength to push her back so that her butt plopped onto the bed, giving him room to lay down again. Huffing, Koge snatched onto the previously discarded lube bottle, putting the liquid on the toy and over his cock, using her hand to spread it down over his balls and between his cheeks.

“I’m about to wreck you and you’re being a smartass. You’d better watch it, or I’ll change my mind. Then you won’t get to cum at all.” Putting his legs into position, and finding that she needed to prop a pillow under his hips due to their size difference, Koge positioned the tip of the toy at his waiting asshole, catching his gaze one last time for final approval. Just feeling the tip threatening to enter had his heart racing, and after a final moment of internal nervous panic, Bakugou gave a small nod. The instant it slipped inside, slowly digging in inch by inch, Bakugou had to cover his face again with his arms, struggling to not beg or moan like a bitch in heat. Everything about it was different, from the unfamiliar feeling of this particular toy to the way it filled him and pressed against every sensitive spot he had discovered, and then some. It was incredible, and with the first roll of her hips that brought the toy nearly all the way out of him before plunging back inside, his voice broke with a trembling whine.

“That’s okay, Katsuki?” Although he couldn’t see her, Bakugou could just hear that Koge was already totally lost in this, even though she kept her current movements slow and steady as she waited for his response. It was difficult for him to open his mouth and restrain his moans, so all he could manage was his typical grunt of agreement, his hands clenching into fists with her slight increase of pace.

Bakugou knew that it was going to end up feeling good. He knew that it was going to embarrass the shit out of him and that he was going to struggle to gather himself once she started. What he hadn’t expected was how he already wanted to beg for more, how his body craved to feel the pleasure crash onto him faster and harder. He hadn’t expected that he was going to strain to hold back his voice to this extent, that each thrust had him wanting to cry out and moan. He hadn’t expected to love it this much so early on.

“Look at me, Katsuki.”

He couldn’t. He was sure that the embarrassment would kill him if he had to watch her, but her next move just proved that he really didn’t have a choice. A sharp snap of her hips and rougher pace finally forced all the restrained air from his lungs, his arms moving up so he could clutch on tightly onto the pillow his head rested on. “F-fuck, Utsuro, you can’t- you can’t just- a-ah, damn it!” Still refusing to look at her, Bakugou turned his face into his bicep, teeth clamped shut tightly to do everything he could to hold himself back. He couldn’t turn into a horny little bitch so easily, even if every thrust and the feeling of his cock slapping against his abdomen was driving him nearly mad. His pride wouldn’t let him break just yet, but it was quite clear that Koge wasn’t going to have it.

“Just let it out, you stubborn brat,” Koge’s voice was tinted with her own pleasure, stimulated from the other end of the strap that rested inside her. “You didn’t care about moaning or hiding yourself while I sucked you off or fingered you. Look at me, Katsuki, and just let it loose.”

Her hand wrapping around his cock and the first stroke paired with the anal stimulation is what broke him, his entire body shuddering and the restraint of his voice shattering into loud curses and moans. “Fucking shit, Koge-! That’s it! Fucking harder!”

“Greedy, huh? Only if you look at me.”

There was hesitation, but it was brief, as the craving for more was stronger than his embarrassment as he grew closer to his release. Opening his burning eyes, he finally tilted his head more to face her, gazing over every inch of her beautiful body and the way her hips slammed eagerly into his. What really captivated him was her expression, flushed and hazed over with lust and excitement more than he had seen in a long time. She was completely lost in the moment, and a smirk crossed her lips as he finally caught her gaze.

“There you are. Now don’t hold back, love. No one can hear you but me, and you’re so sexy like this,” As a reward for him finally looking, she gave him what he had asked for, pushing him closer and closer to his release. “But I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you.”

The lack of pleasure from her hand on his cock hand him immediately bringing his own hand down to do as she told him, pumping eagerly. There was no longer any restraint or control of himself like he had to start with, and he allowed himself to grow lost in it all, not caring about how he may be perceived. It was just them and the pleasure, for how long he wasn’t even sure, and before he knew it, he was teetering on the edge of release.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Utsuro-! I can’t fucking hold it anymore!”

“Do it, Katsuki,” Koge pushed his hand away so she could stroke him instead, wanting to bring him to orgasm completely on her own, keeping the pace of her hips steady. Hands free again, Bakugou couldn’t resist clutching onto the pillow he rested on at his hips, his head tilting back as he let the pleasure overwhelm him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” His release was more intense than anything he had ever felt before, and all that time masturbating didn’t prepare him for it like he had expected. His entire body was on fire, the crash of pleasure nearly sending his eyes rolling back. It was euphoria and took much longer to come down than normal, though his first deep intake of breath was quick to bring him back to reality. The first thing he noticed was the incredible amount of hot cum all over his stomach and chest, surprised that it was so much even after having cum just an hour before in the shower. “Holy shit…”

“Holy shit is right, Katsuki,” Having clearly cum herself, Koge carefully removed the toy from within him before flopping back to sit on her butt, propping herself up on her arms as she heaved to catch her breath. “Humping like that is hard work!”

Bakugou couldn’t resist a chuckle, letting his arm come up to flop back over his eyes as his body struggled to recover. “Don’t be a pussy.”

“I still can’t believe you even wanted this. At first I couldn’t understand where my toys were going and stuff, but I really didn’t expect it to be ‘cause you were training.”

With the click of the strap-on harness coming loose, Bakugou peeked under his arm to look at his lover, who was more focused on removing the toy than watching him. The contented smile on her flushed face had the butterflies in his stomach turn crazed, feeling the heat in his own cheeks spread almost down to his toes, and the urge to clutch on to her was nearly suffocating. Sitting up on weak arms, he yanked the petite woman over to him, who cuddled up into his lap and against his chest without protest or being bothered by bodily liquids that coated them both. In fact, she hummed happily, nuzzling her face up into his neck as he caressed her close.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to do it or that I would like it at all,” Bakugou spoke as softly as his gruff voice would allow, running his hands along the soft flesh of her thigh. “But it was… Fucking awesome. Sorry I was such a prick about it for so long.”

“I had a feeling you’d like it! And I think how shy you were was really, really cute. But it’s also so sexy, Katsuki. This whole thing was amazing, I don’t think I’ve been this turned on in a while. Trying new things always gets me super crazy.”

“Well hopefully this will keep you crazy.” Bakugou urged her head up a bit to kiss her lips softly. “Won’t be the last time.”

“Can I do you doggy next time?”

Ignoring her question for the moment, he showered her with more affectionate kisses, running his fingers through her hair softly. He wasn’t sure why, but this entire experience had him feeling so close to her, so accepted and safe that he couldn’t restrain his adoration for her. “Mm… Why? I thought you liked me looking at you.”

“I do. But I want to see that cute bubble butt of yours jiggle.”

“Then no.”

“Well, I say yes.” Cupping his cheeks, Koge squished them together playfully, kissing his puckered lips in punishment. “Let me spank you.”

“Never!” Breaking free from her grip, Bakugou first gave the tip of her nose a vengeful nibble before blowing a rough raspberry onto her cheek, ignoring her giggles and squeals as he leaned forward to cocoon her down onto the bed beneath him. “You have to work for that privilege!”

“I will! I will get the chance to spank that booty. But seriously, Katsuki,” Koge paused for a moment, gently pushing his bangs back out of his face so she could better catch his gaze. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Tch, of course I trust you. Thank you for not making me feel like a pathetic horny bitch.

“Oh, but my Katsuki, you are a horny bitch. Ouch, don’t bite me! Meanie!”

39 notes · View notes

yukippe · 5 years ago

Text

wonder what she thinks of me

for @yuekiweek day 3: reunions | word count: 2.3k | read on ao3

“you need to buy your books suki!!” sokka lectures through the phone. last year suki didn’t buy the books for any of her classes and she was fine. she isn’t actually planning on buying books this year either, except now sokka’s roped her into coming to his book club and she can’t lie and say she doesn’t like to watch sokka rant about something dumb while enjoying the baked goods that sokka will have convinced his gran gran and his parents to make for them.

unfortunatley, this means suki has to brave the bookstore during some fancy author signing to try to buy the book sokka’s demanded everyone read for next week. he’s still talking through the phone, though suki’s mostly tuned him out. she’s normally much better at listening to sokka’s rants, but the bookstore is packed with awkward high school students and suki would rather not, at the moment. she slips around a table of overpriced waterbottles and planners and weaves past a random grandpiano over to one of the computers with the bookstore directory. “sokka,” suki asks as she almost trips over a four year old holding a picture book. “why did you have to send me to this bookstore at this time?”

there’s a huff on the other end of the line and suki sighs deeply, “suki, please you should be thankful! they’re running a special discount if you buy a tote bag to go with the book this weekend!!” well. okay, maybe suki collects tote bags and sokka is probably being a good friend. but suki hasn’t been to this store before, having not bothered with buying her textbooks last year and getting anything for fun as an ebook. but sokka believes in the experience of a physical copy or whatever, so tote bags and author signings it is.

suki puts her phone between her shoulder and ear as she sets her fingers onto the keyboard of the computer directory, “hey, what’s the name of the book again?”

“have you listened to anything i’ve ever said to you?” sokka asks her. suki can picture him in their apartment at his desk, doing something fancy with math as he coaches her through a bookstore, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. suki doesn’t actually need him to tell her the name of the book, she just likes to rile him up sometimes. she types in the title. suki thanks him for his help, asks him if hes found his glasses yet (the same glasses she hid before she left) and hangs up with a smirk.

adaptation by malinda lo. there, young adult section. it’s supposedly sci fi thriller and sokka, though he lacks taste in most things, has always had solid book taste. suki looks around for the sign to section she needs and spots it, tucked behind a tech display and next to the little cafe. suki walks over, eager to grab her book and get out of the shop. she walks through the shelves searching for the author’s with the last name l. malinda lo. there, suki reaches out to pluck the book of the shelf, when the back of her hand brushes against someone else.

suki steps back, book in hand, to look at the girl next to her. she has brown hair in a pretty updo and really cute heart shaped beaded earrings. she looks familiar, but suki isn’t sure where she recognizes her from.

“hi,” the other girl says, her voice sounds like a princess. all bells and whistling wind.

“uh,” suki coughs, smiling crookedly and titling her head. “hi!”

the other girl giggles at her, but her smile is warm and suki finds herself settling. “i’m yue - so adaptation? what made you interested in it?”

“oh, my friend is hosting a book club and this is this months pick,” suki tells her. maybe she should have done a little more research on the book before she’d shown up. she hadn’t really pictured a bookstore as the spot to meet a cute girl.

“oh!” yue says, surprised. “i have the same one assigned for my book club. do you want to grab something to drink and let me tell you about it?”

“sure,” suki says, her smile growing even wider. “that sounds great”

yue winks at her as she grabs the same book of the shelf, “perfect, there’s this bubble tea place a block a way i want to show you.” yue turns on her heel, her hair falling onto her back as yue bounces in her steps. suki checks to make sure her flannel is neat and her docs are tied before hurrying after yue.

the two of them wait in line one behind the other at the register and yue flips through the display before the register of pins and pens and bookmarks. a rainbow lion turtle eraser set catches suki’s eye and she lifts it up to her face to look at it closer. it’s the type of thing aang would like, so suki puts it on top of her book when she gets to the register. after she picks out the simplest canvas tote bad (most of them have obnoxious book puns katara would make fun of her for months about) and pays, suki finds yue waiting by the door peeling a sticker off of a sticker sheet suki remembers seeing on the display.

“so,’ yue asks. “where do you want your sticker?”

suki blinks, “what?”

yue waves the - oh it’s a hello kitty sticker with fairy wings. suki blinks at it, “um. cute?” she gets a smile for her efforts and then yue leans in and grabs her wrist, turning suki’s hand around and carefully placing the sticker onto the back of suki’s right hand.

“so,” yue says, after failing once more to steal a drink of suki’s boba. her mouth is screwed up in a light pout, but it feels teasing. “do you go to ba sing se u?”

only a little while later, they are wandering to nowhere in particular, still holding hands. yue keeps trying to steal a sip of suki’s drink even though when suki ordered yue had made a face at the idea of coffee boba. yue’s own drink is sweet like her. strawberry, reportedly to match yue’s nails which are done up in a neat mimic of the fruit.

suki nods, squeezing yue’s hand and lifting her drink over her head, too high up for yue to reach, though that doesn’t stop yue from playfully batting at it. neither of them caring about what passerby might think as they wobble on the sidewalk smiling at each other full of silliness. “yeah, i’m majoring in gender and women's studies with a minor in literature and art.”

yue lights up, the way she’s done every time suki’s shared a fact with her. suki’s face feels flushed, yue makes her feel like she’s on her first date ever. “oh wow!” yue says. “i’m majoring in four nations politics with a minor in theology and spiritual studies but i would love to see what your classes must be like. i think i could be a student forever, you know?”

and then yue doesn’t let go of suki’s wrist. instead, she links their fingers together and suki watches their hands held together hang between them. she looks up and smiles at yue, stupidly happy for a moment. and really, suki doesn’t even know for sure if yue is into girls even if yue does seem to be flagging. for now, suki just lets yue tug her down the street as her phone buzzes in her new tote bag with texts from sokka she’ll ignore for now.

“hm, not really, i think one degree is enough for me. but academics are cute,” suki says, watching as yue swings their hands back and forth as they walk. they’re both absolutely terrible at walking together, suki’s noticed. they can’t seem to walk in a straight line and suki’s almost fallen off the sidewalk twice already. it’s nice. suki’s finding that yue makes her comfortable everywhere.

“oh?” yue asks, her eyes twinkling. “does that mean you think i’m cute, suki?”

“hmmm,” suki teases out, a trace of laughter in her voice as yue finally manages to dart forward to steal her drink, finally realizing her success would be increased if she let go of suki’s hand. suki doesn’t even mind that much, wow. “well,” suki settles, after a moment of false consideration. “yeah, i think you’re pretty cute.”

yue winks at her, the same way she did in the bookstore, and takes a sip of suki’s bubble tea. then she makes a completely disgusted expression shoving suki’s drink back at her. “suki! that’s so gross, tui and la, how do you drink that?”

suki can’t help the laugh that spills out of her as yue sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes, making a fuss that shouldn’t be as sweet as it is. well, suki’s always been a sucker for clowns. suki reaches out and links their hands back together and they both sip at their drink as they seem to stop together at the bus.

they make shy eye contact as a bus comes up to the stop. “so,” yue says. “i’ve got to go, i’m meeting up with a friend. but this was really fun, right?”

suki smiles, “yeah, it was really fun.”

“that’s great! i really liked talking with you!” yue informs her. then, yue leans forward and kisses suki’s cheek before turning around, and her earrings sparkle in the sunlight as she jumps onto the bus right before the bus doors close and it pulls away with the rest of the flow of traffic. suki blinks and watches it go, still feeling the soft touch of yue’s lips on her cheek.

when suki pulls her phone out of her bag to video call sokka he immediately points out the lipstick mark on her cheek and she resolves not to give him any details, no matter how much he pesters her

two weeks later, after bemoaning to ty lee about how she was dumb and completley forgot to ask the cute girl she met at the book store for her number, she sees yue again. at sokka’s book club.

the members of the secret book club hadn’t been a surprise for the most part, consisting of sokka (obviously), aang (one of sokka’s only friends who wasn’t a gay girl), azula, mai, ty lee and suki (the gay girls sokka was friends with). sokka’s parents, hakoda, kya and bato, had baked with sokka all last night and prepared a whole table full of snacks that sokka had made her haul over to their apartment. suki thinks it’s a ridiculous amount of food for their handful of friends, and then she and sokka ate a good section of it before their friends even show up.

mai, sokka and azula are arguing over the finer points of the book already even though the meeting has yet to officially start. sokka and azula, to be fair, have actual opinions that they are fiercly defending from their spots on the floor as mai causes problems on purpose on the couch she and ty lee stole as soon as they stepped through the front door.

there was only one person that had yet to arrive, and apparently only aang had met her before. azula had raised an eyebrow at the pronoun and asked sokka if he’d made friends with another gay girl. the answer had been yes, and suki who was looking for another chance at talking to a cute gay girl after flopping earlier in the month and failing at getting yue’s number or social media or anything, was looking forward to meeting the newest cute gay girl sokka was friends with.

sokka had impeccable taste in cute gay girls (besides azula). so really, maybe suki shouldn’t have been so surprised to answer the door when the bell rang to find yue holding a tray of pastries.

yue stands out in the hallway with its broken light, looking as pretty as the moon in the sky. her face breaks into a smile at the sight of suki, and suki’s sure her expression matches. “suki?!” yue asks. “wow, small world huh?”

suki nods back, her cheeks starting to hurt with how big she was beaming. “so,” suki says. “do you think i could make up for last week and get your number?”

laughter comes from behind suki, and suki knows her friends are probably making fun of them right now, but she’s too interested in yue’s answer to pay any attention.

yue rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t stop smiling, “of course suki, now do you want to help me bring these in so i can program it into your phone? no excuses not to call me this time.”

“don’t worry,” suki says as she takes the sweets from yue. “i’ll be sure to blow your phone up more than sokka when he’s trying to prove a point.”

she’s rewarded with another kiss to her cheek (and teasing from her friends at another lipstick stain) and yue’s number in her phone saved as yue🌙💖😘.

yue, through suki’s phone, texts something to herself and suki leans over yue’s shoulder to see what it is.

omg yue you’re so hot please go out with me <3

suki bumps yue’s shoulder as best as she can with her hands full and raises an eyebrow. “so, yue?” suki asks. “will you go out with me?”

yue giggles, her lipgloss sparkles and suki wonders what it tastes like, “of course, suki.”

a few seconds later, suki has her question answered and can confidently report that yue’s lipgloss tastes like mango.

suki passes the tray off to sokka, who was helpfully waiting right behind her with the tried familiar expression of accidentally setting up his exes. then, suki tugs yue into the loveseat, kicking out aang who had been sprawled across it.

book club is much more fun than suki was expecting, though almost all things are improved, suki finds, when she’s hanging out with her friends and eating sweets and practically sitting in the girl she likes lap while yue braids her hair and teases sokka with her. yue winks at her as aang and ty lee stop azula and sokka from getting into a fistfight with mai and sticks another hello kitty sticker onto her cheek. suki leans over and kisses the same spot on yue. fair is fair after all.

#atla #yueki #yue #suki #yuekiweek #r.txt #rey's writering #i love how i post before im finished bc im impatient and then i edit for days/j ;_; /

53 notes · View notes

chayacat · 4 years ago

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (22)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Laziness. We humans are the champions of laziness. We always push something back the next day or the day after. And sometimes wrongly. Because even the important things, we push them back to the next day. We're lazy on everything, shopping, cleaning, meals, showers, outings, work... Life in general. But where we are the laziest, where we are the champions of the world, what do I say, of the universe, what do I say again, of the whole galaxy! It's to get up.

Aaaah...How good it is to stay in a bed, so soft, so fluffy, that we could say that it’s a cloud. Not a sound, a perfect silence... Why wake up and get up when you can easily stay in bed and sleep all day? Because... Because you have to live anyway. And then starving and stinking the old goat is not an option.

Danny opened his eyes dimly, the soft glow of the day glimmering his cheek. And the first thing he saw and felt made him smile. You were there, in bed, in his arms, a smile on your face, a smile that sublimated your face. He did the right thing not to kill you. For now. Even though he couldn't take you to the seventh heaven that night, he couldn't help but feel some satisfaction in keeping you close to him for the whole night.

Seeing this... He was thinking about Carla. She was the same. Never let go in the morning, worse than an oyster to his rock. He would give anything to see her again... Just one last time. He rose gently, without waking you, to sit on the bed. He gently opened the drawer of his nightstand to take out the picture. He'll never separate from this picture. It was the only thing, the only memory of her, that he possessed.

He couldn't help but think about it: how would his life be today if Carla were still alive? Well first of all, he wouldn't be a murderer all over the country. I think it’s a no-brainer that we can all make. They both had plans, each would have made a career, they would have had their own home. Children... They would have had a good life. They would have had... But that will never happen now. He suddenly felt two hands resting on his torso, then a head landing in the hollow of his neck. He turned his head slightly to see you, a slight smile on your lips, your hair slightly in battle.

“Sorry... I didn't want to wake you up. You know you can sleep a little longer...” He said before kissing you.

“Don't worry... you have nothing to do with it. And then I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if you're gone. You're hot, at least, with you I'm not going to get cold.” you respond sticking to him before looking at the picture. “It's... Is that Carla? She was really pretty... You were lovely together... I almost feel ridiculous by comparison.”

“Hey, don't say that. You are one of the most beautiful girls I have ever met. What Carla and I lived... How she was... Will never be comparable to the two of us. I could never forget her. That's impossible. But I can't stay like this forever. I have to move forward, and it is with you that I want to move forward now. That is what she would like me to do. And I will, for her. Now all that matters is you. OK?” He replied, hugging you tenderly.

“Thank you, Jed...you’re so adorable.” you answer.

“I know. I'm going to prepare breakfast, I'm not as expert as you but... Eggs and bacon only resist me very rarely. I'll let you wake up gently.”

He got up as he stretched, then put on a pair of pants and a black tank top. Then he went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, releasing eggs and two slices of bacon. Then he turned on the gas and cooked it for each plate. He served each plate and took out orange juice. Everything we need for the day. Today he had planned to spend time with you. Even if first, he had to take you to the police station so that you could make your statement. And of course.... it's with Inspector Wilhelm. Decidedly, it’s to be believed that he is the only inspector of this city ... And yet there are four of them. Of course not. He's the one who falls on.

The day he can kill him... will be the icing on the cake. Of course, if he's going to kill him, he'll do it when he leaves town. Because unfortunately he won't be able to stay forever in Roseville. In any case, it’s not in his plans. And if you could follow... that would be perfect. Of course, you have your business here... but he will wait until you have an employee qualified enough to take over the coffee, and you will open another one in your new city.

And then... maybe he can accomplish his projects, which he had with Carla, with you? It's a possibility. And like that... you could never leave him. You would be his adorable little wife... raising your children and also working on your side. And he will do the same, Danny is not the type to do nothing in a relationship. He returned to his bedroom when he saw you, your hand on the doorknob of his office. He stepped forward and put a hand on your shoulder gently, which startled you and let go of the handle.

“Curiosity is a nasty flaw my love. There are precious things I care about in there. Even though I know you won't touch anything... I... I can't let you in right now. But promised... one day you'll be able to access this room. The breakfast is ready and careful: I would be very upset if there is anything left on the plate.” He said before kissing you and laugh.

“Yes, sir! leave nothing in the plate or otherwise grumpy Jed will wake up.” You answer laughing.

“I was thinking... After you go to the police station, maybe we could spend a little day together? nothing but you and me... wherever you want, in the park, in the museum, in the shops... even though the shops and I are not very good friends.”

“Why not? And then I could take the opportunity to check if everything's okay at the café. In case some naughty little bake thieves passed.”

“It's not me... I was very well watched last night.”

You both laugh before you eat. Then Danny cleared it, took his stuff and waited until you were ready to leave to open the door and take the keys to the van. Both, you’re heading towards the vehicle and once properly settled, Danny started and set off for the police station. He didn't think he'd see Wilhelm again anytime soon. He parked in the parking lot of the police station and decided to accompany you. There's no way you're going to be alone with Wilhelm.

You both showed up at the reception and the policeman informed the inspector before letting you through. Danny smiled, he couldn't stand this place, at the same time who wants to be here? No one. But unfortunately, he has no choice even if he could have stayed in the van, Danny prefers to stay with you. He still imagines Wilhelm's face when he sees him. And that didn't take long. Wilhelm was waiting outside his office and when he saw Danny, a little grin appeared on his face.

“Olsen... still in my paws, isn't it? What are you doing here?” He asks, with a false smile.

“Well, I'm coming with my girlfriend. It's been official for a while. It's silly a few days ago you wouldn't have seen me.” Danny responds with a provocative smile.

“Tsk. Well... I don't see what women find in the journalist.... Especially you. Anyway, come in, miss. On the other hand, Olsen, you're staying there.”

“Oh no I don't think so, I wouldn't leave that beautiful angel alone with you.”

Wilhelm growled slightly and let Danny into the office with you. He gave you a little smile and a wink before sitting down with you. The deposition lasted about an hour and a half, Wilhelm sometimes asking you for details about your assault. And on your attacker. After all, He has to know if there's a connection between him and you.

Danny didn't tell anything. And held back from smiling or laughing when thinking about McKellan. If Wilhelm knew... if he could quickly find his body so Danny could see his head... if he started vomiting it would be the icing on the cake. And once again, he won't be suspected. Everything is perfect. You leave the police station after a few minutes, not without Danny and Wilhelm exchanging a few more spades. Then he joins you, gently taking you by the waist.

“I have the impression that you and Wilhelm are not on very good terms, I'm wrong?” you ask ironically

“Let's say that according to him I am... what does he call me already? Oh, yes! a "dirty weasel that deserves a big kick in the ass". So technically... No, we're both not really on good terms. Ah and also because I usually find more information about the Ghostface murders than he did then... you understand why he doesn't like me too much...” Danny responds with a sneaky smile.

“I see indeed... Ok... Where are we going now?”

“Wherever you want my love. Tell me what you'd want and I'll take you there.”

“Hm... Let's go to the park. We can land quietly... and enjoy the day. And then we'll go out and eat. I've never tested Indian food...”

“Mattew has a very bad memory of it... Don't ever talk to him about it if you don't want to see him twist in half.” Replied Danny, laughing a little.

Danny got in the van and waited for you to get on board to start and leave the parking lot of the police station. He went towards the park and besides, he knew exactly where to go to be quiet. The park being quite large, there was a small lake that hardly anyone frequented. So, you won't be disturbed at this place. A perfect moment of calm and peace that Danny wanted.

The park was big. people were scattered all over the place, children played while adults chatted, sipping a small glass of wine or other fun. Danny looked up at the sky, people are inveterate drunks. He also drank and held alcohol but no more than two drinks. The only time he went further than two drinks... Let's say he would have a hard time remembering how and why he woke up in a hammock... In his underwear. When it was cold. Well, he was in high school, and someone put a warm blanket on him. So, we can put this on account of the youthful spirit...

He parked not far from the lake and went down making sure everything was closed and then followed you to land right in front of the lake. The view from here was beautiful. For an artist or photographer, it was the perfect place.

“I often come here when I need to work quietly. And get some fresh air. Even if technically, I could just stay at home and open the window... I'm not that nerd... Not yet.” Said Danny using his coat to sit on the floor.

“It's kind of your secret garden... even if there are still people who come... It's very nice.” You said, sitting next to him.

You watch the lake for several hours while chatting. Some passers-by also came to settle down, and children came to play. In fact, Danny almost got a frisbee in his head twice. It's a good thing he had a good reflex. But despite his good reflexes, you laughed every time. A laugh he could hear all day. Then around noon, you leave the park to eat. There was a small Indian restaurant not far from the park. If Danny was content with a simple chicken curry, you on the other hand enjoy everything you had taken. It wasn't expensive but it was good. And he didn't even have time to get out of what to pay for. You paid, long before he took out his wallet.

Then came the afternoon shopping. Danny couldn't say no unfortunately, he promised to take you wherever you wanted to go. Fortunately, in another sense, not all of them were clothing stores. You made him buy a few decorations, a frame so he could put the picture of him and Carla and two/three other little things. Then comes the clothing store.

“I'm not a big fan of shorts and tank tops you know...” Said Danny, lying. He has to live as a Jed when he's with you. For now. He can’t wait the day when he can be again and simply himself.

“I think it looks good on you! It changes you! it makes you look more ... sexy.” you respond cheerfully.

“Well...if you say so. I'm going to listen to you. But don't expect to change my entire wardrobe...”

“Oh, but little by little I will get there! You won't even realize it.”

Danny sighed and laughed, shaking his head. The evening came, and as you had planned, you go to the café to check that everything was fine. And you take the opportunity to pass a broom. Then tired of your day, you both go home. But this time, Danny didn't have time to get you into his house, you've already opened the door to your apartment.

“You'll be able to sleep alone like a big boy tonight... I have to make the cakes for the shop tomorrow. Even though I'd prefer to spend time with you. I wish I could destroy the wall that separates our two apartments...” You said, laughing a little

“Unfortunately, I'm not sure the owners agree ... but living in the same apartment is not a possibility to be ruled out. you have to think about it... and in the meantime we will be separated by a wall...” said Danny before kissing you. “Good night my love. Have sweet dreams.”

Danny went back to his apartment and closed the door. He put the bags and his coat on the sofa, the keys on the furniture of the entrance, and walked to his office. He's very lucky to have seen you ready to open the door. He would have a hard time explaining all of this to you. But one day you'll find out. One day... he may be himself again.

But the night was not over for him. He took his bag which contained his Ghostface outfit and prepared to leave. Tonight, he had no particular target. Tonight, he was lazy to stalk someone to kill him later. Tonight, we're going to change our method. Tonight, a poor unlucky man will cross his path. And he'll die.

Sometimes... The change in habits...feels good.

***

(I get my code exam! Yeah!!!! Next step: Driving! And that will be another story, because I'm little scared of driving XD. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Now time for my brain to get some rest after an intense week! Have a good week-end! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

16 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #389

“i’m well aware i’m a danger to myself / are you aware i’m a danger to others?”

How much do you weigh? Yeah, we're starting off on a bad foot. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Putting Roman's used litter in the trash. Do you think you can love someone without trusting them? Hm... I guess you could love them, but it'd be a complicated situation. What’s your opinion on people who go hunting for sport? If it's purely for sport, from the very bottom of my heart, fuck you. Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? I'd say it's decently fast. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Yeah, Florida. My grandma lived there. Are you sensitive to caffeine? No. It does like... nothing to me. How do you usually get around? My mom's car. Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? No actually, but I know I kinda am. What do you think about Kim Kardashian? I don't have an opinion of her. Can you speak any French? No. Favorite yogurt flavor? The only yogurt I've been liking lately is cookies and cream to add a different texture, because otherwise, I don't like its natural texture very much??? Idk man, my taste buds are wild. How much money do you have in your wallet right now? Just like $5. What bottled water brand do you like? Essentia. Your favorite way to eat chocolate? As chocolate bars, probably. How often do you listen to country music? Like, never. Linkin Park or Avenged Sevenfold? Linkin Park. Last surgery you had? Pilonidal cyst removal. Have you ever played guitar? I briefly took classes for it in high school, yes. Best I got to was playing some of the intro to "Crazy Train." I enjoyed it, but not enough to be consistent and really learn. Is there someone in your life whose career/life choices you find immoral/unethical? Have you ever told that person your views? Do you find it difficult to support them (emotionally or otherwise) because of their choices? I don't think so? What trait do you feel you lack that you wish you possessed? Independence and confidence would be nice... Have you ever considered writing your memoirs? No. Do you find it difficult to stay invested in online relationships? God no. I love my online friends. Half of 'em more than "irl" ones. Are you the type of person who pays close attention to the release dates of movies, music, etc., and will, for example, go see a movie or buy an album on the date it is released? If so, when is the last time you did so? I have to be VERY invested in it to care THAT much. It happened most recently when Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty premiered. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? No. Would you rather have a job for which you had to go in early in the morning or one you had to stay late into the evening at? Early in the morning. I'm in a better mood in the morning. Do you use any apps to track your health or medications? I have a calorie-counting app, as well as one to track my period. Whose opinions/recommendations do you value most? My mom's, best friend's, and psychiatrist's. If you could’ve been at any historical event, which would you have liked to witness firsthand? I don't really know. Maybe the very first Pride event? Is there something that you really want to do but are afraid of doing? If so, why are you afraid of doing it? Ride a rollercoaster, for one. I know I never will, though. I'm too afraid of throwing up, but even more realistically, I fear passing out before of the twisting and turning and just standing up makes me very dizzy. My blood pressure is STUPID low. What is something society “expects” you to do that you don’t want to do and/or don’t plan on doing? Have kids. That's a big 'ole fat no from me. Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever come to your door? Twice at least. Are you well-known by people in your area? No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank Christ. It sounds terrifying. What's your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. Melanistic ones, to be exact. Stunning. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? I'm only keeping up with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Have you ever dated a smoker? For less than a day. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yes. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Besides the school band. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? No. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Multiple times. Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible? I think once with my brother. Why did you last need to use a band-aid? I'unno. What fruit do you eat most often? Apples. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My ma. Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? A few times. I don't feel like thinking over this. Have you ever had an unusual type of milk (eg. oat, rice, almond)? I've tried almond milk, and I hated it. If you could experience life as a Disney princess for a week, which princess would you pick and why? uhhhhhh idk When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? I'm essentially always in my room. If you like to sleep in late, have your parents ever told you off for doing so? No. Do you find piercings attractive? Yep. Do you like potato chips? Loooove 'em. What’s the most stalker-like/creepy thing you’ve ever done? If you don’t think you’ve done anything like that, what’s the most stalker-like thing someone’s done to you? Nothing beyond checking Jason's Facebook sometimes after the breakup, I think. Even that though I wouldn't recommend doing. You're just going to get yourself hurt. Stay away from exes' profiles. Do you think it’s a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it’s assault? Yep. I don't give a fuck what's in your pants, you don't hit anybody unless you're fighting to defend yourself. What’s your favorite old Disney movie and favorite new Disney movie? I mean... define "old." I'll go with The Lion King for old, and for new, uh... Finding Dory, probs. Name something “trendy” or popular that you dislike. I don't really know what IS trendy right now... Is Snapchat still "in?" Because I've never gotten that. “Dirty talk” in the bedroom…love it, like it, don’t care, dislike it, or hate it? I think I'm kinda neutral about it? Like I mean it also depends on exactly what is said. I prefer more loving talk, though. What is/are your favorite type(s) of ethnic food, and what’s your favorite food within that type? I'm a basic fatass that likes American cuisine most, aha... Like give me a cheeseburger and I'm happy lmao. How would you describe your relationship with your hair over the years? I love it more now at a short length than I ever did long. When it was long and I was in my deepest depression, I was awful about brushing it. It would get so knotted. Like looking back, it nearly makes me shiver. I HIGHLY recommend cutting your hair for anyone who struggles with selfcare. How do you feel about your SO daily/regularly checking up on a couple of his exes on social media? I'm single, but hypothetically, if you're checking an ex's page nearly every day, I would not be okay with that. I'm totally fine with exes remaining friends and just cordially talking now and again, but that's it. It's a respect thing. Do you prefer your guy to wear cologne or not? I personally like cologne if it's not overwhelming. I really don't care if you wear it or not, though. Ladies, how important is it to you that your SO wears/would wear a wedding ring? This survey is so heteronormative. But anyway, unless there was an issue like it not fitting, I'd want my spouse to wear their ring. What was the turning point that led you to decide for or against having children? There are a lot of reasons I don't want kids. I'm too selfish with my "me" time, I stress out too easily, I don't want to dedicate my life to keeping another person alive and fed and happy, I have bad genes... I could go on and on. I just wouldn't be a good, "present" enough mom. I am much more interested in ensuring *I* am okay. Is having your “dream” wedding really that important to have? Not at all. I mean I want a smooth and memorable wedding, but I'm not obsessed with it being perfect. Do you consider it cheating if your SO goes to a strip club and then doesn’t tell you? That's certainly not cheating, but I wouldn't like it. Being secretive about anything in a relationship is unhealthy, imo. I'd be hurt and also very insecure because I wouldn't feel like "enough." How old is too old for trick-or-treating? Honestly? I don't think you ever are. Like come on, does it REALLY matter? Let people have fun. I don't do it because of societal standards, but I would if I didn't care about being judged. Do you sleep with your arms over or under the covers? It depends on the temperature, but I normally wake up with them under. Do you own any t-shirts of your favorite band? I have an Ozzy one stored somewhere, but it doesn't fit me now. There was another I really liked too, but that one is WAY too small now. Fries or onion rings? Fries. I'm not a fan of onion rings. True/False: you’ve had an odd dream this week. Story of my life. I had one last night where I kept dying in different ways, and I actually felt the pain, like drowning in magma. Do you find tattoo sleeves attractive? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Do you like carving pumpkins? Yeah. What’s an animal you want to have as a pet but can’t? My mom has absolutely forbidden me to get a tarantula (uh, many tarantulas in my case) until I move out, lol. That doesn't stop me from checking Craigslist like every day. ;_; Have your parents ever caught you drinking? "Caught," no. Any time I've drunk, I've had permission or was a legal adult by then. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? First be humiliated at my appearance and then absolutely pass out lmao. Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? No, thank fuck. The person you have a crush on is drunk and goes to kiss you, you know they don’t realize what they’re doing, but do you kiss anyways? If I know it's something they wouldn't do sober, absolutely not. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Any would be lovely, but the poem would appeal most to me because of the amount of thought that goes into poetry. Do you any shirts with any kind of images of food on them? What? I don't think so, no. Which holiday is the most fun to decorate for? Halloween. What was the first website you had an email account on? Yahoo. Have you ever written a fanfic? No. Tattoos or piercings? Both are grand, but tats win. What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? I saw this picture of a snake split open that had eaten another snake. Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? Lil cozy one! I don't want more space than is needed for cleaning reasons, as well as price. Do you have a tutor for anything? No. Who’s the best kisser you know? Jason was. Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. I'd like it to stay that way. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shortie" instead of girl? Ew, no. Do you have a deep voice? For a woman, yes. Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? Hi, I'm an adult. Is there a Sonic where you live? YES. It's my fave fast-food place. What do you like on your pizza? I have three go-tos depending on my mood: Pepperoni, jalapenos, or meat lovers.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

6 notes · View notes

halequeenjas · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to Chili’s || Harsh, Nell, & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @nelllraiser @notsoharsh @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Okay, maybe sometimes you do have to perform an impromptu exorcism in a Chili’s.

Normally, Jasmine wouldn’t be quite so inclined to the “cheap” part mentioned in Nell’s text, but hell, she did love margaritas and Chili’s delivered on that front. She’d gone there for plenty of girls’ nights and happy hours in the past, so she’d been inclined to agree to the outing. Especially since she looked forward to some quality time with the youngest Vural. They’d opted to sit at the bar as they were primarily here for the drinks. It was a nice, relaxing evening and she found it easy to just goof around with Nell. She’d always been so free-spirited and funny. Hell, after a few rounds of margaritas, Jasmine found herself going along with Nell’s attempts to troll the bartender instead of nudging her to stop. “She’s really not messing with you, Josh. The cream in Bailey’s only comes from a very specific kind of cow. You’re a bartender, you really should know this!” She took another sip from her margarita and had a devious look in her eyes. She glanced around the bar and saw a familiar face approaching the bar. “Harsh,” she practically yelled in a voice that definitely sounded a little tipsy. She waved enthusiastically and patted the seat next to her. Thankfully, her enchanted red heels kept her from slipping as she lept up to greet her hunter friend. “You know Nell, right? You should join us. I do still owe you that drink,” she said with a small nudge.

After looking at the amount of medical bills and debt she still owed the hospital, a long day of checking in on the family’s of those killed in the demon-shark attack, and after the weekend Jasmine had gone through, Nell could think of no better idea than getting cheaply and absolutely sloshed at a Chili’s. “It’s true!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, leaning towards the bartender that continued to consider her and the exorcist with careful skepticism. “First you gotta be named Bailey. Then you gotta name the cow Bailey. And then you have to have a- what’s it called, Jasmine? The guys who are in the courtroom with the baton and the ‘All rise for the honorable judge!’ “ Nell’s nose scrunched as she thought, finding her answer a full and long five seconds later. “The Bailiff! He has to be the one to milk it. Then it’s Bailey’s. It’s like champagne coming from that one place in France!” But then Jasmine was yelling a familiar name, and Nell’s head whipped to find the bearer of said name. “Harsh!” Nell yelled in an equally inebriated tone. “Harsh, come here right now! Park your little butt right here,” she said as she too patted the seat. “He knows me! You know Jasmine?” Nell questioned the man before looking back towards her drinking buddy. “You know Harsh?” Another flicker of thought later, Nell squinted her eyes, asking Jasmine in a far too loud whisper, “Are you flirting with him?”

It wasn’t exactly Harsh’s usual haunt, but hey, he had a coupon. Couldn’t let that go to waste. The plan had been to cruise around, maybe pick out an easy meal as they were heading out the door, but that quickly got scrapped when a familiar voice called his name. Easy grin spreading on his face, Harsh sidled his way through the small crowd of irritable customers and exhausted looking wait staff to the bar. “Well, look who it is, my two favorite ladies. Funny running into you here. Is this where all the cool people hang out now? I must’ve missed the memo.” He gave Jasmine a one armed hug and shot Nell a wink before sinking into the seat beside them. Alright new plan. They both already seemed a little sloshed, someone would have to get them home safe. When did he become such a lame ass babysitter? “I’ll take a drink, looks like I’m going to need a few to catch up with you two.” His grin only grew with Nell’s too loud question. “I like to think everyone is always flirting with me, it makes things more fun.”

Maybe Jasmine should have taken pity on the poor bartender, but she was starting to understand why Nell found this to be so fun as she held back drunken giggles as Nell insisted all these ridiculous steps for Bailey’s to be Bailey’s. The description was making her want a Bailey’s and coffee though she didn’t want to be up all night or mix liquors with the… however many margaritas she’d drank at this point. Before they could further mess with the bartender, they were greeting Harsh. She laughed as Nell seemed confused that she and Harsh knew each other. “Yes,” she said with a nod, “He’s helped me out with some properties in the past. Really multi-talented man this one.” She gave Harsh’s arm a clumsy nudge that would have perhaps lined up with Nell’s next question had she been a little more graceful. She rolled her eyes, “Nell, please. I’m thirty, not thirteen. But I’ve probably flirted with him which I’m hardly embarrassed by. We’re all attractive adults here.” She smiled brightly and took her seat back at the bar as Harsh sat with the pair of them. With a wave, she told the bartender to add whatever Harsh was having to her tab. “Have as many drinks as you’d like… we definitely have you beat. And you know what, I like your way of thinking. It is more fun to just believe the attractive people in your life are flirting with you.” At least right now it felt that way. A margarita or two ago she would have likely scoffed at most who tried to flirt with her, but hell, who really cared.

The poor bartender was spared from more well-meaning torture as Nell’s attention was sufficiently drawn away by Harsh and Jasmine...and the fresh margarita that had appeared in front of her. Leaning forward to take a quick and messy sip, she wiggled a little as the alcohol slipped down her throat, pleased by the tickle it made. “That’s true- he does have lots of talents. Have you asked him about all the dinosaurs he knows?” she asked, wondering if Jasmine knew of the vampire talents that Harsh possessed. Or was she one of the ones he’d tried to trick into thinking he was a hunter? “I didn’t say it was embarrassing!” she defended loudly. “I was just wondering! Is it illegal to ask?” Then she turned back to the bartender who seemed to look her over with a wary glance. “He’ll have two- no three! Three margaritas for him!” she said while jabbing her thumb in Harsh’s direction. The alcohol might not work all that well, but she didn’t actually care at a moment like this. Maybe if he drank twenty of them, then something would happen.

This could go a couple of ways. There probably wasn’t any way to tell Nell not to drop any little vampire hints without giving himself away. Shit. Harsh really needed to keep better track of who knew what and whether they were any good at keeping secrets. “Aw c’mon, it’s not like I know them personally. But if a dinosaur showed up, I’d definitely introduce myself at least,” he said, with a light laugh. Maybe Nell would get the hint… if he was ever going to be that lucky. Three margaritas probably wouldn’t do much for him, but hell, he wasn’t going to turn them down. He was sipping at the first as he cast an idle glance around the restaurant. Pretty normal. Loud, crowded… except. Huh. He frowned, squinting for a moment. There was this weird little guy just standing there, looking right at Jasmine as people passed him by. He gave Jasmine a slight nudge. “Uh, hey. Is it just me, or is that guy giving you eyes right now?”

Jasmine found herself characteristically shaking her head at Nell. That girl really did say the wildest things. She nudged Nell and chastised, “Be polite, Nellie. You’re not that far behind us. Keep talking like that and I’m getting you a walker and hard candies for your next birthday.” She found herself laughing and added, “You whispered it loudly like it’d be some sort of secret.” Her eyes lit up when the bartender brought over another round of margaritas. It didn’t take her long to get a large gulp in. She got a bit of a chill, but didn’t think much of it. They weren’t too far from the door and Maine in winter was frigid at best. The nudge Harsh gave her made her a little more alert of the familiar feeling. She turned to look where Harsh was directing her and immediately dropped the glass in her hand. The clang of breaking glass was hardly heard over the crowd in Chili’s. Her hand reached for Harsh’s momentarily as she steeled herself to face Larry Bob here and now. Then it hit her, she dropped the hand and looked at him incredulously, “Wait, you can see Larry Bob, too? How- Okay, not the point right now. Nell, I need you to leave. Now.” She clumsily grabbed the salt shaker and fished underneath the bar for her purse. The ghost approached with a satisfied grin on his face. “Come on, Jas, you don’t want your favorite colleague joining you for happy hour?” The wind around them picked up and Jasmine immediately swore under her breath. Calling him a tacky little man probably wouldn’t help the situation right now. There were far too many people here for him to throw a ghostly temper tantrum, but the flying barstool crashing into the shelf of liquor said otherwise.

Hm. Maybe Jasmine didn’t know about Harsh being a vampire. Or maybe he was just acting coy about the dinosaur thing. Either way, Nell didn’t particularly care all that much when she was as many margaritas deep as she was. “It’d be rude not to introduce yourself,” was the only comment she made on that as she took another sip of the drink in front of her. Her lips parted to answer Jasmine as well, but as soon as the words ‘Larry Bob’ were out of the exorcist’s mouth, Nell was frowning, brows drawn almost comically close together. “Larry Bob? Fuck that middle-aged, suburban wannabe NASCAR barbecue dad name having piece of shit- where is he?” Perhaps being drunk at a chili’s had left Nell wanting when it came to good judgment and the name calling of ghosts. But...then again she’d never been one to mince words. As the wind began to pick up, her fists clenched at her sides, paying no attention to Jasmine’s demands she leave. “Fuck that ghost! Fuck ghosts! I’m tired of ghosts! They had their lives, and now they wanna ruin everyone else’s! Step the fuck up, Larry Bob!” As barstools began to fly, Nell groaned, knowing this was about to get very ugly very quickly. “Alright! Everybody out!” she yelled over the din of the erupting chaos, trying to usher the normies out of the bar. “Move your asses, or I’ll move them for you!” At least she was coherent enough to make sure people didn’t get hurt.

Eyes widening with the breaking of the glass, Harsh looked between Jasmine and the creep. Wait. What did she mean how could he--oh. Oh shit. Fucking ghosts. At least the asshole had the decency to give Harsh a bit more time to think of an explanation. As the barstool went flying, Harsh moved, wedging himself between Jasmine and the remains of the bottles flying from the shelf. Glass caught his back as panic spread. Nell’s calls seemed to get almost as much attention as the destruction Larry Bob or whatever it was Jasmine had called him was. Harsh grabbed Jasmine by the arm, keeping her behind him as the ghost advanced. “I’ll explain later. Jasmine, tell me what to do. Nell, stay close.” Seeing Jasmine grab for a salt shaker, he did the same, ripping the top off to spread a clumsy line before the three of them. It wasn’t much. This wasn’t his area, it wasn’t even his fake area. Ghosts usually didn’t bother him and he did the same. He should’ve tried harder to keep it that way.

Normally, Jasmine enjoyed Nell’s colorful antics. However, even in her drunken state, she knew tormenting a poltergeist was a dumb idea. There was no time to tell Nell to can it though. At least she shifted her focus to getting people out of here. That left her here realizing she needed to perform an impromptu exorcism in a Chili’s. At least she didn’t need to direct Nell further. “God damn it, Larry,” she grumbled as she raised her arms and closed her eyes to shield herself from the incoming glass. It caught her by surprise when none hit her. She cautiously opened her eyes and realized Harsh had blocked her from the flying glass. “Thanks,” she said, already a little out of breath. He was asking for direction and she pondered it for a moment, keeping the salt in her hand at the ready. “Try to make sure no one gets impaled. I’m going to try and exorcise this bastard right now.” There was a taunting laugh and another gust of wind that ripped the booths out of the wall. “Like hell you are,” Larry Bob cackled maniacally, “You’re the one who should be the ghost. You’ve always taken what should have been mine.” Jasmine scoffed and fished some salt out of her bag, “Oh, please. I was the best in the office because I actually worked, you snivelling little daddy’s boy.” So much for not taunting ghosts, but she was drunk and she was livid. She haphazardly created a circle of salt on the floor and began chanting the familiar Latin phrases, but found she couldn’t feel a pull on him. Everything just kept flying around her and she could barely keep her balance as the wind whipped all around them.

Why was everyone trying to baby her? Nell squinted defiantly in Harsh’s direction as he mentioned staying close. Honestly, it was as if they didn’t even remember she’d killed more than her fair share of things. Actually, had she mentioned that to Harsh? She couldn’t really recall while there was a poltergeist tearing up a chili’s, and she was multiple margaritas deep. At least the people had mostly vacated the restaurant now, most of them unwilling to be a part of a freak tornado after reading the paper and seeing that the last two had caused deaths. “You tell ‘im, Jasmine! You’re gonna end his whole career! Oh wait! You already did!” The witch egged the woman on, all for trash talk in the heat of a battle- especially after a few shots of tequila. Nell knew she should stay behind the salt line, but she also knew that Larry Bob needed to be stopped despite her being unable to see him, and the metal legs of the table closest to them were looking awfully tempting. With any luck, they’d be made of iron. “Just cover me!” she yelled as her only warning before darting over the salt line, ducking as a barstool went flying past. It was times like these she was grateful for being small, and easily able to get in and out of tight situations. As she neared the table she slurred out a spell, and in the next instant the wood had shattered into pieces, leaving the legs free for the taking. Grabbing one from the floor, she eagerly hefted the trophy in her hands. “Alright! Where is the fucker?!” She directed her question towards Jasmine and Harsh, ready to smack this ghost bastard into oblivion.

So this is what exorcisms were like. Harsh had seen one or two in his time, but he usually hadn’t been caught in the middle of them. He was going to have to go back to that after this. Being on the human side of things sucked. Cursing he batted away flying bits of bottles and dishes, keeping the debris from Jasmine as much as possible. She could do her thing, all he had to do was make sure she and Nell were--fuck, and there went Nell. Jasmine had the salt circle, so he rushed after Nell, ducking under another flying barstool as he skidded to the table. Iron, right. That was a good idea. He snatched up a hefty iron rod, turning just in time to smack a chair out of the air, sending it clattering across the room. “You can’t see him?” Ghost rules were stupid. He pointed. “There, he’s right in front of that booth. Help Jasmine, I’ll get him.” Harsh charged, swinging the iron right through the shrimpy little asshole’s spectral form. That wouldn’t get rid of him, he knew enough about ghosts to be sure of that, so he turned, frantic, searching for where the bastard might pop up next.

Any other time, Jasmine would have appreciated Nell gassing her up. This was not one of those times and she did her best to ignore it. Her hand was clasped around her necklace to help her find the focus and strength she needed to get through this ritual. Thankfully, the crowd seemed eager to get out of there quickly which just left her, Nell, and Harsh. That was… better. The last thing she needed was some random person to be standing by because some pathetic poltergeist held a grudge against her. Everything kept whipping around her and she kept going with the familiar Latin phrases that were admittedly much more difficult to annunciate after… how many margaritas had she had? Way too many to be performing an exorcism in the middle of a god damn Chili’s of all places. Her fists were clenched at her side and her voice was shouting over the howling wind. The longer she went, the weaker she could feel her body becoming. Her legs felt wobbly as if she was on rough waters and her voice was no longer carrying the same strong tone. Black was beginning to pinch around the edges of her eyes and she knew they had to finish this soon, but despite her efforts, Larry Bob wasn’t even being pulled into the circle. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nell rip a table apart. God, she hoped those table legs were iron. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up.

Nell wasn’t sure how exactly she was meant to help Jasmine as Harsh has asked. After all, she wasn’t an exorcist in any sense of the word. Sure- Jasmine could probably sap some strength from her if needed as both their practices were centered in magic, but wouldn’t the quicker option be to just get rid of the ghost? Nevertheless, she momentarily made her way to Jasmine, recognizing the signs of fatigue taking hold of the woman. Squinting her eyes against the wind, Nell reached out to place a hand on the exorcist’s back, siphoning her power into the woman so that Jasmine might stand taller. “Is it working?” she yelled over the din of the Chili’s unable to gauge where things were when she couldn’t even see Larry Bob. Once she was satisfied that Jasmine wasn’t going to collapse, the witch hefted her table leg once again- simply itching to run through some uppity trust fund ghost. Spotting Harsh, she made her way back towards him, jamming her hand into his so that he might guide her. “Just take me with you, and I’ll swing where you swing!” Why hadn’t she brought along those ghost seeing goggles she’d won in the arts and crafts contest? Hindsight was truly 20/20. But hopefully the combined effort of their iron would be enough to dispel Larry Bob if Jasmine didn’t get there first.

“Got it.” Gripping Nell’s hand tight, Harsh turned in a quick circle, looking for that little asshole. There. He gave Nell a pull forward. “There, in front of the stupid chili painting with the purple hat,” he said, voice low, though it was unlikely the ghost could have even hard him over the rush of wind and smashing of furniture. “Charge on three. I’ll hit him high, you hit him low. One, two, three--” Did it matter where you hit a ghost? Harsh wasn’t sure. But if they could just disrupt the bastard enough, maybe it would give Jasmine a break, or at least drive him out of this stupid restaurant. On his mark, Harsh lunged forward, pulling Nell along with him. He probably could have just carried her, that might have been more coordinated than their awkward rush forward. With a great swing, he brought his iron rod straight through Larry Bob’s smug face.

Even with Nell’s hand on her back, Jasmine couldn’t seem to banish Larry Bob no matter how hard she tried. Was her slurred speech impacting the Latin? There had to be something, but she had to keep going. There was no other option. That was, until she saw Harsh and Nell charging from the corner of her eye. A protective instinct rose in her despite knowing Nell was more than capable, but it seemed to be for not. As their table legs collided with Larry Bob, he dissipated. He was far from gone for good, but she could breathe again. She let herself fall back against the bar as fatigue overcame her. God, exorcisms and margaritas were not a good combination. She weakly looked between the two before taking in the mess around her. “Thanks,” she croaked, “We need…” They needed to leave. Make sure he didn’t come back. But should they check for people? Everyone had shuffled out pretty quickly and the bar took the brunt of the damage. And she was tired. So freaking tired. “Go,” she finally said though she found herself unable to meet either of their eyes.

Nell had slashed her iron table leg in tandem with Harsh, and judging by his and Jasmine’s reactions— their attack had been successful, momentarily banishing Larry Bob back to wherever it was he went when he dissipated. Dropping her makeshift weapon where she stood, Nell instinctively went over to Jasmine, leaning herself against the exorcist in an attempt to provide some support in the wake of spending so much energy. Funneling her magic towards Jasmine, she tried to lend the woman more of her strength, knowing she still had more to give, and wanting to have Jasmine steady on her feet. “Yes- we should get out of here,” Nell agreed, looking around the wreckage of the Chili’s. With the spoken words of a spell, and a stomp of her foot, Nell magically scanned the rest of the restaurant for any other life signatures, but the only one’s present seemed to be her and Jasmine. And Harsh, of course— though it was notable that he didn’t show up with the spell. Generally, the magic was still able to sense the presence of the undead, and she wondered if it was Harsh’s lack of soul that was making him undetectable. “No one else is here- let’s ditch this popsicle stand. No good fucking ghost,” she mumbled as she tried to herd Jasmine towards the exit, waving Harsh over as well. “You’re both okay, right?”

The asshole was gone, for now. Stupid ghosts. Harsh really needed to learn more about them, maybe Jasmine had books he could borrow… if she wasn’t about to have a whole lot of questions for him. Maybe she would forget the whole bit about how hunters couldn’t see ghosts. Regrouping with her and Nell, Harsh glanced about the restaurant. No heart beats he could hear, there were some panicked ones outside, but most were moving away quickly, and beyond that… sirens. Fuck. “Yeah, we should go, the cops will be here soon and I don’t really want to try to explain an exorcism to them.” He followed along after Nell, a few quick steps bringing him to Jasmine’s other side as he offered his arm. “I’m good, what about you two? That was rough.” His eyes flitted about as they made for the exit, looking for any sign of that smug ghostly piece of shit. “I’m guessing that was a friend of yours, Jasmine?”

Tomorrow was going to be a hangover from hell, that much Jasmine was sure of though she felt steadier on her feet with Nell’s support. Something about it made her feel a little stronger, too. “Yeah, a little shaken up, but nothing some takeout and water can’t fix.” With the confirmation no one was still lingering around, she followed her friends out and quickly realized she was going to need to take care of Larry Bob sooner rather than later. “An old colleague who blames me for the fact he was in an accident like I was supposed to know the deck he was walking on would just collapse.” She had felt bad he died, even if she had never liked him all that much, but he was certainly making it harder and harder to sympathize. She took slow and careful steps towards her car before throwing the keys to Harsh. “You mind driving,” she asked before adding, “I’ll order everyone dinner once we get back to my place.” As she’d also be hitting the books and hitting up every contact she knew in order to get rid of Larry Bob once and for all.

#welcome to chilis #nell #harsh #wickedswriting #larry bob #THANK U BOTH THIS WAS SO FUN

12 notes · View notes

dansedan · 5 years ago

Text

Did anyone ask for bad impulsive original fiction? no? ok so I’m doing it anyway under readmore bc

1) it’s four pages long

2) It’s not good

open at your own risk it’s gay pining and isolated places bc that’s what I’ve been thinking about latelyyyyyyy

ok here ‘tis sorry everything I touch becomes brooding and horny at least this one isn’t explicit lmao I started it right after watching brokeback mountain and maybe that’s super obvious and sad!

The blonde man is in a yellow suede coat (for that is what blonde men wear) and the black-haired man is wearing blue (not denim, though, just house-clothes) and they are standing in a bog-road not quite a mountain, too tropical for Western dessert, and the black-haired man is short but the blonde is shorter.

The are moles on the black-haired man’s blonde-skinned face and the blonde man wants to kiss them quickly, kiss repeatedly like a combo in an arcade game. The black-haired man is grinning more than he would really grin and his eyes are proud, round almonds and his hair is long and leather-smooth. The Blonde man looks like carrot cake in essence but not color, he is pale and strawlike.

The Blonde man is shivering under the coat and hat and isn’t used to it, but the black haired man just smiles again and says that Jersey winter’s colder, that he should visit sometime and see it for himself. The blonde man does believe him, still shivers without being cold.

“It’s good that you’ve managed to make it all the way down here.”

The two men are in the cottage- or house, or shack, or whathaveyou- and they’re shedding their coats with warm hesitance. The light from the windows is white-cold and streaming in like sheafs of silk, and the blonde man stares like a movie-still, too conscious and composed. The black-haired man is real, though, and he’s rustling through the kitchen for mugs, and spoons and coffee grounds. Chattering about the weather and elections and the recent movie by the actor they both like to fill the space in the air, and the Blonde man is breathing with intent, too much intent. Like receiving a shirt from a lover, he is breathing in the air of the house (it is still air with no notable fragrance, the coffee from the kitchen exempted by its diegesis) and looking around, taking slow steps like a peppy realtor on a tee-vee show. The house is American, and hand-made several years ago (he knows, for this is how he met the black-haired man, in that year of furrowed brows and little lies and paperwork) and overwhelmingly warm, wooden brown. It is draped in corners with thick fabric, like a swaddled child, and the Blonde man can see embroidery and weavings he himself had sent along with a mutual friend on her much more frequent visits- a pillow with a bird design, a blanket made to look like an old overcoat, art-school projects disguised as adult whims that had never fooled the black-haired man, but had successfully flattered him.

And the black-haired man has finished making coffee, or gotten sick of hearing “yes” and “really?” from the younger man, is instead sneaking up behind him with the mugs.

“neat house, huh?”

“thanks, made it myself.”

And the black-haired man pretends to gasp, and pretends to laugh, and passes on the coffee to the blonde man. And they are not drinking over an open fire, they are walking to the sofa- one in sock feet, one in boots.

“how’s school?”

“s’fine- ‘school’ makes it sound like I’m in sixth grade.”

“…is sixth grade fun?”

“fuck no.”

The black-haired man’s smile is wide, and heart-shaped, and it breaks the blonde man’s heart to see it plastered like that and to know it’s his fault.

“Still, god, how long’s it been now, three years?”

“threeish.”

The black-haired man is looking everywhere other than him, and it’s painfully obvious in the closed quarters of the open living room.

“all because of-“

“yeah, well, and the distance is-“

“of course, of course, still-“

“yeah. No excuses.”

And the blonde man wonders how they can do that- having never heard each other’s voices- how the black-haired man can read his tone and answer without seeing him face, without staring like the blonde man does and is at his small face dwarfed by warm-toned sofa seat.

“You know, you’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

“really?”

“well, from the photos-“

“ah. Well, my roommate’s- uhm, whatsit… like, five feet? One-twenty cm, whatever that is.”

“oh. Tiny.”

“yeah, tiny.”

And the black-haired man looks away again, towards the door that leads to a half-kilometer of nothing and no-one, and farmlands sat past that, so no-one was making any sort of noise or was otherwise expected. And it is warm inside the house, and they sit apart on the single sinking sofa, their hands next to each other but apart.

“god, you’re white.”

“well, that’s evident in-“

“yeah, photos but-“ the black-haired man reached out, tentatively placing their hands side by side, touching pinkies. “god, in person… it’s a lot.”

“hm.” The blonde man hummed to cover his sudden breathing. He didn’t know where to look, so he stared. “…The British have a lot to answer for.”

“ha! Maybe so,” the black-haired man seemed emboldened, he kept looking amiably about the blonde man’s face, starting to fully touch the surface of the Blonde man’s hands. “do you burn easily?”

“too much.” The blonde man nodded, looking up, jittery. He made a gesture, a short nod up, signaling to notice the field of faint freckles on his face. The black-haired man noticed only the quirk of his pink lips, puckering slightly as emphasis, and the youthful blemishes on his rounded chin that lead his eyes down to the soft expanse of neck and chest under the button-up. It was quiet awhile, both faced towards each other but looking away, choking on still coffee and stale air.

“how is the book-“

“So what did you think about me?-“

And the second the words were out they were still again. The Blonde man had been tentative, the black-haired man weakly attempting a mocking falsetto, crowded into a pose with his feet drawn up on the sofa. They finally locked eyes, both half-desperate and half-heartened, restraining the urge to laugh or cry out of politeness.

The black-haired man broke the gaze first.

“um, well- Book’s okay! Got it into querying, so that’s good.” He scrambled to stretch out again, break pose and settle further away into the arm of the couch, further away from the blonde man still looking at him, still stunned serious.

“good.”

“yeah, good. Pretty good.”

And the black-haired man couldn’t look forward but seemed to feel the stare still standing solid back at him.

“You’re… “ the blonde-haired man hesitated, voice low. “you’re older than I thought you.”

“hah! Yeah, I’m a geezer, right?”

“you’re handsome.”

And that gave the black-haired man some pause, the easy tone he’d suddenly taken then, as if suddenly reporting on some subject he was confident about, like there was somehow more shame in asking him about work than there was in breaking that barrier. And he kept watching and talking.

“you look old Hollywood. Like that one guy- god, what’s his name? He was in one of the older westerns…”

“…s’rude to make fun of folks like that, you know.” He could feel his voice was small, and suddenly those couple inches height seemed to have lost their worth.

“I’m not making fun.” The blonde man said, and he stood up from the couch with his empty mug of coffee, walking back to the corner kitchen and the dripping sink. Even from away, there was a certain elegance in the way he went about the movements of walking and washing the cup, hands flowing soft like thin silk in smooth motion. And the blonde-haired man didn’t speak, while the black-haired man watched and sat in relative silence.

He watched the blonde man wetting, washing, coming up to rub his neck and card through the short-shaved back of his nape. The blonde man ducked his head down, gathered water to wet his face, and his neck was slender and unmarked, snow-white, and the black-haired man could not explain why it made him hungry, recalled the scent of citrus, of the bitter pale-white pith.

He could feel and see the light outside the window finally waning into night, bathing the open room in cold grey-casted light, see its effect on the blonde man, patting his hands dry on his pants and glancing around for a light switch.

“hey- why don’t you bring the matches? Second drawer.”

A brief pause and elegant hands took up the order, diving into the dark of the white wooden cabinet and strolling back over to the sofa.

“do you know how to strike it?”

The blonde man plucks a match out of the box, stares down and strikes it on his teeth.

“I’m not that young.”

The black-haired man wants to make a joke of it- ask about the party trick, make light of the dramatic gesture. But sadly, it works, the blonde man’s little living movie scene gimmick, and while the air between them grows thick all he can do is breath in and lean back, salivate. Candles on the coffee table lit, the blonde man sinks into the seat next to him, breathes even in the silence and doesn’t look away from the flame.

Three years in a cold, golden counterweight. In a joke gone bad and a cheesy gimmick.

The blonde man swore to himself this wouldn’t end with them in bed.

The black-haired man swore inwardly that this could only end with them in bed.

And the night swore nothing, just lay itself on their laps, belly-up and threateningly expectant.

#my writing #cabin boyfriends

11 notes · View notes

xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 5 years ago

Text

If you prefer to prepare him, just in case...

Word Count: 1,392

Disclaimer: This is part (31) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Start here:

Figuring it’s only fair, but feeling nervous as hell, you shoot Yoongi a text telling him you need to talk. Zero points for originality but being original isn’t really at the top of your priority list at this point.

Not ten minutes later, Yoongi shuffles out of his bedroom, rubbing the back of his head and squinting in the glaring sunlight that leaks through the expansive windows. He yawns and gives you a cute smile when he catches your eye, before continuing his shuffle over to the kitchen bench where he starts to prepare three coffees - two iced and one hot.

“I’m just assuming one of these is mine,” you tease him. He nods and slides one of the mugs of iced coffee across the bench, avoiding eye-contact, as he always does when he’s being solicitous.

“So um…what did you want to…(he clears his throat nervously)…talk about?” he prompts you, his voice deep and morning-husky.

“Do you mind if we sit down?” you murmur, feeling as nervous as he clearly does. He shakes his head, scratches his chin where the morning-stubble is probably starting to bother him, and then gestures at the seats around the kitchen table.

He waits for you to choose a seat and then pulls out the chair opposite and places his drinks gingerly on the coasters nearest him. You each take a sip of your drinks, measuring the vibe and you almost laugh at how similar you can be, making you wonder if maybe you’re not in such a terrible predicament after all.

“So you know the other night. The one after Bambam’s birthday party?” you begin. Yoongi looks awkward almost immediately, but you do notice a flash of amusement in his eyes and a tiny smile ghosts across his lips before his serious look returns. He nods, looking down at his iced coffee.

“Mm-hm?” he mutters, when you don’t continue.

“I think…I mean it might turn out to be nothing but…”

“You’re pregnant?” he whispers, swallowing hard and looking up from his coffee. He searches your eyes for the answer, finds the confirmation there, lets his breath out slowly and takes another pensive sip of his drink. Strangely he doesn’t look shocked or annoyed or scared. Just contemplative.

“What are we going to do?” he asks quietly.

“Well…” you muse, your mind reeling that he’s being so reasonable and calm. You really couldn’t have asked for a more adult response. “I mean I would want to get a follow-up test from a doctor. Make sure. Before we start worrying.”

“Sure,” he nods. “Would you prefer if I came with you, or left you to it and met you afterwards?” You’re again silently grateful for his graciousness.

“That little cafe back in Gangnam, from your trainee days?” you suggest. “I’ll let you know a general time and then text you when I’m done?”

“Okay. You’re sure?” he checks, anxiety clouding his eyes a little now. You smile at him warmly.

“I’m positive,” you reassure him. “It’ll draw less questions.”

You still want some moral support, so you text Ruby to check if she’s willing to be sworn to secrecy. She meets you at the aforementioned cafe and escorts you over to the clinic.

“Don’t worry. It’s super-quick. And you’ll be fine,” she reassures you in the waiting room.

“Wait a second…” you catch on, watching as she flushes red, obviously realising what she’s just inadvertently given away. You’d had your suspicions but you’re pretty sure you’ve just had them confirmed.

“Oh hush…he never even knew anything was amiss!” she hisses, sipping her water too fast to try and cover her panic.

“JK?” you mouth, checking to make sure nobody is trying to overhear your conversation. She nods, grimaces and waves her hand as if to push the faux-pax away from herself physically, making her silver bracelets catch the light.

“Point is,” she continues breezily. “I was fine, you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine!” You give her a careful look, reading between the lines. What you sense there makes you wonder anew at Yoongi’s reaction to all of this.

Though you’re sure she was just trying to jolly you along, it turns out Ruby is actually right this time, and the store-bought test was a false positive. You take Yoongi the news and he rewards you with a shy smile and a soft admission that the whole turn of events has made him think more about the two of you and what’s in store for your future. Little do you know he’s already mentally surveying wedding locations in his head.

After much discussion and a few road trips, you both settle on Dalseong Park in Daegu, which you manage to arrange to have cordoned off for the ceremony. The fun will continue back in Seoul in the evening, where Yoongi has made sure to consult with your parents on the walima. You’re trying to let your bridal party take care of the details and the worrying, but naturally you’re feeling a little anxious as you wait, inside the small marquee set up for you and your bridesmaids, for the processional to begin.

You can see Yoongi when you peek through the opening of your marquee. He’s looking stylish in his wedding hanbok, plus he’s newly-buff after months of daily exercise, which sends a ripple of anticipation through you for your wedding night. The location for your first night together as husband and wife is the one part you’ve not been allowed to know anything about, as he wants to surprise you, he claims.

The Nikah ceremony passes in a blur and the first photo shoot is light and fun, with plenty of laughs and not a little creativity from the Big Hit staff. Yoongi is the first member to get married, so you’re sure there’s a bit of testing the waters going on with what they can get away with, but that just means you have plenty of opportunities to experiment with ideas for poses and enjoy yourselves.

You’re exhausted but happy by the time you climb into one of the bridal party limos with Yoongi, Jin, Hobi and Ruby. You’re just getting settled when the door swings open and Jeongguk’s head pops through the gap.

“Can I come with you guys?” he asks, pouting and turning up the doe-eyes in an obvious bid to get Ruby’s attention. “I lost at Rock, Paper, Scissors and now Jimin won’t let me into the other limo.” Yoongi gives the maknae a withering look, letting him know he doesn’t buy the excuse, but nods, gesturing to the place next to Hoseok. Jeongguk flashes him a grateful smile but then climbs over Hobi and Jin to get himself next to Ruby, who tries to ignore him and keep the conversation going with you and Yoongi.

“So do you have any clue where you guys are spending the night before you fly out for the honeymoon?” she teases you.

“None whatsoever,” you laugh. You both look at Yoongi, who just grins and takes another sip of his drink.

“Oooh champagne!” announces Jeongguk, noticing the bottle on ice resting beside the little bar that takes up most of the window of the passenger section. “Let’s play a drinking game. We’ve got hours until we’re back in Seoul.” You and Yoongi exchange an amused look.

“JK? You’re at a ten right now, babe. I need you at maybe a five…” you warn him gently. He sulks a little but bites his lip, shrugs his agreement and turns his attention to Jin. You pretend not to notice him sneak his hand along the long bench seat to place it on Ruby’s stockinged thigh, nor the little smile that slips across her lips as she lets him.

“You know it’s kind of awkward being in the car with the newlyweds,” teases Hoseok, with a sigh. “Kinda feels like we’re interrupting something.” He winks at Yoongi who rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Feel free to play with the bar and the sound system then,” he suggests pointedly. Hobi doesn’t need to be asked twice. The other three accept his invitation as well and begin messing around with the various lighting controls, speakers and liquors, leaving you and Yoongi to cuddle up in your cozy little couple-seat and just enjoy the ride.

THE END

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bts yoongi #BTS suga #bts suga fluff

7 notes · View notes

toho-literature · 5 years ago

Text

Bohemian Archive in Japanese Red: Pages 72-73 - Suika Article and Interview

Season 120, Kisaragi Issue #1

The Midwinter Moon’s Great Explosion

A flurry of moon fragments

On X the Xth, I became aware that the moon had suddenly and silently exploded. Although this was a major event, it occurred so late at night that most people never realized it happened.

The moon quietly scattered out across the sky, and its countless glimmering fragments descended to the Earth. Before long, the fragments thinned out like mist, and then gathered together again to reform the full moon. Since this happened silently over a very short period of time in the middle of the night, it was a stroke of the greatest fortune to bear witness to this fantastically unreal spectacle. Setting out to find out what had happened, I was able to gather enough information to allow me to make contact with the individual who caused the moon to explode.

That individual was Suika Ibuki (oni). She appeared to be extraordinarily drunk, but she spoke quite lucidly when I interviewed her about this incident.

"The moon? Ah, that's just a bit of a threat. Everyone looked like they were havin' so much fun, saying 'oni, stay outside' over and over again, so I thought I'd give 'em a little warnin'. Sure surprised the fire out of ya, didn't it?"

Indeed it did, as I'm sure anyone would be. I then asked her how she'd made the moon explode.

"Just what do you think the moon up in the sky is? Everyone sees that big, round shiny thing and thinks there must be somethin' up there, right? That's just silly. The truth is much more mind-blowin' than that. You can almost never see the real moon, 'cause its appearance is deadly to humans. You can only see the moon's reflection. And the things that make reflections, like water or glass, can all be broken, right? So since the moon you see in the sky is just being reflected in the heavens, all you gotta do is tear the heavens apart!"

I understood how she'd broken the moon, but it was unclear how she'd managed to shatter the heavens. Still, the power of the oni defies imagination. They can probably shatter the heavens with their eyes closed and one hand tied behind their back.

(Aya Shameimaru)

Tengu’s Rice with Barley - for a nutritional supplement, recovery, or a snack for adults

Interview

Suika: Fill ‘er up!

Aya: You've been drinking all day now.

Suika: All day? Look, I've been drinking non-stop for CENTURIES. The last time I was sober is ancient history.

Aya: I suppose it's too late to say that drinking that much might be bad for your health...

Suika: Wanna have a drinkin’ match?

Aya: Please, I'm not foolish enough to get into a drinking match with an oni.

Suika: Aw, c'mooonnnnnnn. You're a tengu, right? Tengu are pretty big drinkers, toooooo.

Aya: Ohoho, I'm on the job at the moment. Still, I found a nice food stand recently. Would you like to go for a drink afterwards?

Suika: Food cart? They got yakitori?

Aya: Grilled eel, actually. Their fried skewers go great with alcohol.

Suika: That don't sound half-bad. Parties are great, but maybe it's nice to drink quietly once in a while.

Aya: This cart isn't the quietest place, I'm afraid. The owner sings a lot.

Suika: If she's so noisy I can't drink, I'll just make her shut up.

Aya: Hm, hearing that from an oni makes me feel sorry for the poor bird. Still, I was very surprised. That matter of the moon is one thing, but I didn't think there were any oni left in Gensokyo.

Suika: Oh, you know, I just decided to come back since it's been so long. I'm the only one who came, though.

Aya: Gensokyo might become even more lively with an oni around.

Suika: I was pretty sad to see the tengu had lost their hold on the world.

Aya: Please, you're exaggerating. The tengu are still plenty powerful. Besides, the oni have always been stronger.

Suika: You tengu are all talk, same as ever. Yer always so humble to anyone stronger than you, but act all tough towards the weak. Yer all really strong, but go easy on everyone, and ya play dumb even though yer really smart. Just a buncha sly foxes.

Aya: I am a crow tengu, thank you very much. But still, we tengu really aren't as strong as we used to be. We're merely simple rumormongers, nowadays.

Suika: Hm, I wonder. Well, I see y'all still love gossip as much as ya did in the old days.

Aya: And I see the oni are still amazing. To have such power to be able to shatter the heavens...

Suika: Hehehe, that's just a little trick. I'm just good at splittin' and gatherin' things.

Aya: Oh, does that mean you'd also be good at gathering news?

Suika: Huh? N-news? O-of course, I could do that with my little finger.

Aya: Oh, that's amazing. Why don't we continue this conversation over a drink at that stand I was talking about? I'm sure you have a lot of interesting things to tell me.

Suika: Sure. Tonight, we'll drink until we can't talk anymore!

Aya: Ohoho, but I'm a tengu, you know? If I get so inebriated I can't hear your drunken words anymore... Hahahahaha.

Suika: This is why they say, "Never get too close to tengu."

Profile

Suika Ibuki

One of the oni, who have left Gensokyo. Light-hearted and fond of alcohol. She was unhappy about drinking parties decreasing owing to Yuyuko, so she made Marisa and her friends hold parties over the course of three days.

Appearances: Immaterial and Missing Power

#touhou baijr #bohemian archive in japanese red #touhou #touhou project #project shrine maiden #suika ibuki #ibuki suika #aya shameimaru #shameimaru aya #bunbunmaru newspaper #articles #interviews

18 notes · View notes

laruna · 5 years ago

Text

— interloper.

characters. lim yuri, min yoongi, kim namjoon.

word count. 21.1k

genre. angst, fluff, friendship, romance, slow burn

warnings. underage drinking, hospitals, car accidents, mentions of family issues

summary. when yoongi feels like an interloper, yuri reminds him that he belongs.

November 7, 2011. Big Hit Entertainment Building, Seoul.

While Namjoon signed his contract until earlier that year, he still had to wait until the dorms were built to move in. Yuri gave Hitman Bang an earful when she found out he had signed him as a trainee when the company didn’t even have fucking dorms yet, but Namjoon fully assured her that it was okay and quelled her rage long enough to stop her from biting the poor old man’s head off.

But it all worked out eventually. Namjoon moved in when the dorms were built back in August, and without the awkwardness that parental presence at his house entailed, Yuri invited herself over as often as possible, practically making the dorms her second home.

It’s almost a kind of domestic bliss, the way her and Namjoon lived before, cooking for each other and cleaning up the shitty company building until they get so tired they fall asleep on the floor. Sometimes, if she’s really lucky, he’ll offer to let her share his bed. You know, since all the empty beds are going to be occupied by other trainees eventually, and it’d be rude to give someone a used bed, right? Of course.

It’s a Monday when they go to the dorm and actually find the bed across from Namjoon’s occupied.

“...hi.”

The new trainee’s name is Min Yoongi. He’s only a year Namjoon’s senior, but despite the closeness in age, he doesn’t seem willing to bond with them at all. If anything, he barely talks to either of them. According to Hitman Bang, Yoongi is from Daegu, and the only speaks so little because he’s still trying to get used to Seoul’s dialect and is embarrassed that his satoori keeps slipping out.

Yoongi only talks when necessary, like a coworker. They spend the first week or so not talking about anything but work—music, in their case—but even that they can’t be friendly about. Despite their similar interest in hip-hop, Yoongi and Namjoon have very different approaches to rap music. To music in general, really.

Yuri can’t help but feel as if Yoongi has kind of an edge over them. On top of being a year older, he’s also both a producer and a rapper. Yuri is only the former and Namjoon is only the latter, so it’s like he’s got the force of them both combined. She can’t help but feel a little bit small, next to him.

When they argue about something in the studio, he tends to use this as leverage, telling them to just listen to him because he knows better about this kind of thing. That escalates into arguing, which usually consists of Namjoon and Yoongi yelling at each other while Yuri desperately tries to mediate the situation. The current tally she’s been keeping in her journal shows that Namjoon having won two arguments, Yoongi having won six, and Yuri having successfully distracted them from finishing eleven. She likes to believe that means she’s winning.

Hitman Bang begs to disagree.

He finds out about it one day when he comes to visit her when she’s alone in the studio. The old man never knocks before entering, Yuri notes the invasion of privacy with annoyance. Even so, he kicks it up a notch by glancing over at the journal she’s left open on the corner of her desk. He laughs when he sees the page headed argument wins, pointing to the to the tallies by her name.

“I’m not surprised you’re in the lead,” he laughs. “You’re a menace.” She cringes when she remembers his first impression of her. She wasn’t exactly… tactful about it, but it got the point across well enough. Now that he’s her boss, though, she worries it’ll give him more reason to check up on her, and she would rather selfishly indulge in having some alone time with Namjoon.

“I’m not!” she defends herself, flustered. “I just know better than to waste my time arguing with boys. My points are for when I stop them from arguing, okay? Not having to hear them try to bite each other’s heads off is a win for me.”

“Hm.” He purses his lips at that, regarding her with a look she can’t quite read. She hates how unreadable he is. Her instincts have rarely failed her, but the old man is one of the few people whose energy has yet to come to her.

“Don’t be afraid of fighting,” he tells her after a bout of silence. “They should be able to fight if they’re angry. You should let them fight, let them yell if they’re angry. Even fist fights are fine. It’s okay to fight. Fearing fights only makes conflicts grow bigger.” Yuri shifts uneasily in her seat.

“I don’t like fighting. I don’t like yelling. I don’t like fists,” she says. “I get enough of that at home.” She doesn’t mean for it to slip out, doesn’t even realize that it does until the old man makes that face.

“Oh, Yuri.” He says it more sincerely than she’s ever heard from anyone at the dad age.

“Oh my God, no,” her voice cracks as she speaks. “We’re not doing that. We’re not having, like, a moment. I’m not emotionally prepared for that. I’ll cry and I’ll hate you.” He just nods at that, before awkwardly clapping a hand down onto her shoulder.

“Just remember that you can’t solve everything between them,” he says. “Let them resolve some of that on their own. You won’t be around to resolve things forever.” It feels like a jinx, the way he says it, but she still nods along.

“Okay,” she says. Sounds like simple enough advice to follow.

“And try to befriend Yoongi, okay?” he adds. She wrinkles her nose. That one seems a little harder.

“Okay,” she says anyways. She’ll definitely try.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose when Yuri proposes inviting Yoongi to the Lim household.

“He doesn’t really know anyone else,” Namjoon rationalizes. “Wouldn’t it be a bit awkward for him?”

“That’s the point, dummy,” she says, “I think it’d help him learn to get along with everyone, is all. Including us, hopefully. I don’t know.” Namjoon sighs, if only because she’s been getting harder and harder to say no to these days. He’s not sure why.

“Alright,” he agrees.

Unexpectedly, it’s significantly harder to get Yoongi to agree.

“I barely know you guys,” he deadpans, and Yuri winces. The I told you so look that Namjoon shoots her doesn’t help, and only reminds her of how much she’s always struggled with making friends.

Hoping to spare her pride, she persists. This is the only opportunity she has to have everybody over in a while—she doesn’t know the next time her father’s going to be working overtime and they’ll have the house to themselves. Knowing him, the old man would probably bite her and Kyunghee’s head off if he came home from work and saw everybody over on a daily basis.

“You can,” she offers softly. “Get to know us, I mean. Please?”

Yoongi only raises a brow, seemingly unconvinced.

“We have alcohol?” she offers, but the inflection makes it sound more like a question. Namjoon smacks her arm at that, only for her to shoot him a look that says, What? It’s true! Awkwardly, she adds, “Also, um, free food.”

And that’s enough to convince him, apparently.

Yoongi looks starstruck when he first enters the Lim household, suddenly feeling very small. Or at the very least, smaller than usual. He was easily the shortest of the company’s trainees, second-shortest of everybody in the building, towering over only the perpetually tiny Lim Yuri. He almost has a heart attack when said tiny girl takes his shoes from him to put in the garage. It’s her big-ass house, after all. Shit, just being here makes him feel like he should be the one serving her.

Yuri and Kyunghee explain that their father is out working overtime and... doesn’t really say anything about their mom, but the others know better than to bring something like that up unprompted, so they don’t.

The alcohol is present as promised, provided by none other than resident adult, Ikje. Was it illegal? Yes. Was that going to stop any of them? In the words of Donghyuk, ‘hell nah!’

What terrible, terrible influences, Yuri thinks.

She’s never had alcohol before, nor does she plan to have it anytime soon. Not for any legal or moral reasons, mind you—with the amount of alcohol so freely available in her household, she could probably sneak as much as she wanted whenever she wanted. Personally, she just thinks it smells weird and makes her dad act like a crazy person.

She’s only fifteen, but they make it seem fun. They take the thin metal tail of the soju bottle’s metal cap and tighten it into a straight, brittle line. Everyone takes turns flicking it until Kyunghee’s fingers finally break it off. He makes a face when Ikje fills the shot glass in front of him with soju as punishment.

Yuri doesn’t miss the way he side-eyes Donghyuk before downing it, like he’s trying to make sure that he’s watching. Like he’s looking for approval. She wonders if that’s how she looks at Namjoon. She wonders if that’s how Namjoon looks at her. He’s on her brain too often, these days. Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

They’ve gotten even closer since they made up, and she’s learned a lot more about him since then. He’s still the stickler that refuses to drink in public where he could get in trouble, but he still still laughs and encourages the others’ antics in private, maybe even allowing himself a shot or two. He is also more than the sexless smart dude that she stereotyped him as when they first met, as she has come to learn through his awful, nasty jokes.

She really was right when she said that he had a whole solar system in his head. Whenever he seems like he could fit into some mold, he immediately proves her wrong. Kim Namjoon is everything.

In contrast, Min Yoongi isn’t much to her at the moment.

When she turns over to look at him, she immediately feels bad for not really paying attention to him the whole night, especially when she was the one to have invited him. The only reason she’s even paying him any mind right now is because he’s just situated himself next to her at the table, as a now drunken Ikje has thoughtlessly occupied his previously-claimed spot.

Yuri isn’t sure if it’s because he’s not comfortable enough to drink around them yet, but she finds the way he innocently refuses to drink is a little endearing in the same way she found endearing when Namjoon refused to do so back in Hongdae. Instead, Yoongi opts to eat his entire body weight in meat, and is on what she believes is his third plate of fried chicken wings. Respect.

It’s a nice environment, and Yuri really is still adjusting to the fact that this is actually her life. She has a solid friend group that eats and drinks and laughs and plays stupid games together in her house. It’s relaxing. It’s safe. It feels like home. They feel like home.

It’s when they hear her dad’s car pull into the driveway a couple hours earlier than anticipated that makes Yuri remember, oh yeah, home kind of sucks.

In the next few minutes, their living room descends into absolute chaos. Kyunghee moves to swipe all the food and shot glasses off the table and into the sink, Yuri helps load them all into the dishwasher, Ikje is scooping all the soju bottles up into his arms, and everyone else is drunkenly scrambling out the back door. Once they’re all collected, Ikje climbs out the back window, for whatever reason. She blames it on his batshit drunkenness.

Everything is in the clear by the time their dad steps in. The entire scene is inconspicuous enough, Kyunghee passing Yuri plates from the sink to load into the dishwasher like they just ate a nice dinner. They even go so far as to force awkward smiles for their father, but he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before rubbing at his temples and makes his way upstairs, clearly still stressed from work. Kyunghee breathes a sigh of relief when he hears his father’s bedroom door click shut.

“We’re good,” he says, clasping a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Go lock the back. I’ll finish up the dishes.” Yuri nods, before making her merry way off to follow her brother’s orders. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she’s about to lock the back door and sees a male figure standing ominously in the shadows instead.

She turns on the back light, and lo and behold, there stands Min Yoongi, eating a fucking chicken wing on her back porch. And he has the audacity to look surprised, like she’s the one who shouldn’t be there on her own porch. Heaving a sigh, she steps outside, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

“What are you doing here?!” she whisper-yells. “Why didn’t you go with the others?!” It comes off as more aggressive than she intended, but the last thing she wants is for him to get caught and in trouble when she’s the one that invited him over in the first place.

“Namjoon went to sleep over at Donghyuk’s place,” he explains awkwardly. “Ikje went to sleep over at Hunchul’s place and, uh. I wasn’t invited to either. Ikje dropped me off here from the dorms, so… I don’t really know how to get back to the dorms from here.”

Yuri heaves a sigh. She’s going to have to give everyone a stern talk about the importance of camaraderie and the no-man-left-behind policy. After shooting a quick text to her brother, she uses the house key hanging off of her lanyard to lock the back door.

“I know Seoul like the back of my hand,” she says. “C’mon. I’ll walk you back.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you walking back home alone so late at night,” he says. “It doesn’t sound very safe for you.” His genuine worry makes her heart warm. Those unexpected moments of sweetness he has always throw her off. Not in a bad way, though. It’s nice.

Unfortunately, the rest of the walk is significantly less nice. They spend the first ten minutes arguing over whether or not it really is safe for her to be walking back home alone so late. He feels bad that she’s out because of him, but she insists that it’s fine as she’s done so many times before.

“Taking the subway home and walking home are two very different things,” he admonishes her. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his patronizing tone.

“Relaaaax. I’ve got pepper spray,” she justifies herself. “Also, I hold my keys between my fingers.” She even holds up her hands for emphasis.

“I’m sure you could give a good stabbing if you wanted to,” he snarks. He doubts the tiny girl before him is capable of causing any physical damage, even with a deadly weapon in hand.

“Are you making fun of me?” she whines, and he snorts, because it really should be obvious. “I’m just trying to make sure you get home safely, and this is the thanks I get?”

Yoongi stops in his tracks to think about it for a moment, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he does so. She obviously means well, as annoying as she may be. She’s also his junior, and when he thinks about it, he’s just being mean to her for no good reason.

“Fine. I’m sorry for being an ass,” he relents with flushed cheeks, more for his conscience than anything else. “It’s just that—I just like being alone with my thoughts when I walk, that’s all. You’re not annoying.”

Or at least, not that annoying, he doesn’t say.

“I know I can be annoying,” she says so matter-of-factly that it makes him feel even worse. “And my brother can be the same way. He likes just thinking, too, so I can just be quiet if that’s what you want. I just want you to get home alive, that’s all.” His eyes soften.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “I can defend myself if I really need to. I was on my school basketball team, you know. Boxing, too.”

“With these noodles?” she says bluntly, reaching over and taking hold of his arm. “And how did you get into the basketball team? Aren’t basketball players supposed to be tall?”

“You don’t have any right to talk about height,” he says, staring down all 150 centimeters of her frame as he snatches his arm back from her. “And my arms are not noodles just because I’m not built like The Hulk.”

“We can’t all be Kim Namjoons, I guess. He’s got biceps for days.” Yoongi gives her an amused look at that, and she flushes uncharacteristically. “Sorry. That was weird. Just don’t—nevermind. I’ll stop talking now.”

“No, by all means, keep going,” he teases. “As long as you don’t mind me telling him about it later.” She gasps at that, smacking him in the arm.

“Oh, so now you want me to talk!” she huffs, smacking his arm. “You will be telling him no such thing, Min Yoongi! You don’t even talk to him about that kinda stuff, anyway!” He laughs as he jumps ahead to get away from her playful smacking, smiling so wide that Yuri can see his gums showing. They’re cute. She decides that she likes them.

“You really like him, don’t you? Namjoon?” he chuckles, far too blunt for her liking. It’s a special kind of adorable the way that she so visibly shrinks at his words, he thinks.

“We’re not dating, I, um—” she sputters. “Is it obvious? That I like him, I mean.”

“Relax,” he says. “It’s not. Really, I don’t think he knows. I don’t think anyone knows except Kyunghee, and I only know because of him.”

“My brother knows?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that guy.”

Yoongi laughs at her sudden vulgarity. She really got really blunt and fiery when she wasn’t thinking, even with her seniors like him. It makes things feel a little bit more comfortable.

“Relax,” he repeats. “I think he just knows you? Because he’s your brother, I mean. He was like, ‘I just have to tell someone and nobody talks to you so it’s okay.’ So I doubt he’s told anyone else.”

Yuri nods, inclined to agree. She’d never tell Namjoon about Kyunghee’s crush on Donghyuk, and she has enough trust in her brother to know that trust goes both ways. Still, she feels bad that the exclusion Yoongi goes through on the daily is so obvious, even to her socially-awkward brother. But she has her own relationships to worry about.

“Just don’t, like. I don’t know. Interfere in whatever is happening, okay?” she huffs. “You’re the only one who knows, as far as I know. I just… don’t try to plant any thoughts in his head, okay? I want whatever happens to happen naturally. Because he likes me for me, or something.”

“Spoken like a true romantic,” he says sarcastically.

“Oh, stop it,” she whines. Yoongi laughs.

“I won’t,” he assures her.

He doesn’t know when they started walking again, but it feels just a bit less awkward and stilted now. Yuri’s just a couple steps ahead of him, guiding the way. Wrinkling his brows, he stops dead in his tracks.

“This isn’t the right way,” he says. “You take a left here.”

“No?” she says. “The subway pickup is right here.”

“I’m not taking the subway, I’m walking, remember?” he says.

“What?!” she says. She didn’t mind the fifteen minute walk to the subway, but this was too much. “The whole way? The whole walk back to the dorms is like, an hour, Yoongi! Jesus, if I knew we were gonna be walking the whole way, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Well, you don’t have to walk me home if you didn’t want to,” he says. “You’re the one who offered.”

“I didn’t think you were a crazy person!” she huffs. “Why don’t you just take the subway?”

“I spent all my money on chipping in for dinner, how the hell am I gonna afford a subway ticket?” he snorts. “Look, I can walk however long it takes, but I can’t spawn food out of thin air like you guys can.” He tries to say it as casually as he can possibly manage, but the venom still leaks through. Her face visibly drops when he says it.

“Oh,” she says, her voice tiny. “I didn’t… sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stop that. You’re being weird,” Yoongi says.

He hates this part. He hates the pity looks he gets from rich people like the Lims who have year-long subway passes their father bought—who, by the way, probably gets to sit pretty in a big office telling other people what to do while overworked laborers like his parents carry the South Korean economy on their backs.

But he digresses. He doubts she’s the kind of person who’d want to listen to his long-winded spiels on the economy or the government or the Gwangju democratization movement, anyway. Really, he doubts she’s type to need or think about funds at all.

Much to his surprise, she does.

“Okay, but like—just to make sure—money for that kinda stuff isn’t an issue for you guys, right?” she asks. “Like, Hitman Bang is feeding you guys?” There’s a level of threat to her voice that reminds him of the story Bang PD told him when he first joined the company, of her marching into his office to make demands for her friend’s safety. Loathe as he is to admit it, the image of it is equal parts genuine and endearing of her.

And maybe that’s why he feels the urge to spill his guts to her so suddenly, then. Maybe it’s also the warm, almost disarming energy in the way she talks to him now that they’re finally speaking one-on-one, despite his previous assumptions. Maybe it’s how innocent her eyes look when they shine under the Seoul streetlights.

“You know, I… I used to make beats out of a studio in Daegu,” he confesses. “Most of the time, I’d get scammed out of them, though. The guys who went in and out of the building would rip my shit off or use them but never pay me back, so like… I didn’t make much. But I stayed there because I still wanted to make music and using the studio was cheaper than buying equipment on my own.”

“Oh,” is all she says, pressing her lips together in a thin line. It’s definitely not the kind of thing Yuri and her brother ever had to worry about, seeing as they were so well-off. Hell, they were giving away the shit that Yoongi was slaving his life away over for free.

“So I couldn’t really pay for food or transport that easy, you know?” he continues, against his better judgement. It’s the first time he’s ever talked to anyone about this, and fuck, it feels so good. He can’t stop himself. “In front of the studio, there was this Chinese restaurant that sold jajangmyeon for 2000 won, and down the street, there was this place that sold janchi guksu for 1000 won, and like… I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I had to worry about that shit everyday. If I ate the janchi guksu, I’d be able to get the bus and if I ate the jajangmyeon, I’d have to walk 2 hours to get home. So. I don’t know. I’m just stuck thinking like that, I guess. I know it’s not like… a thing anymore, but I feel using public transport still makes me feel guilty.”

“Mm.”

“Sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It doesn’t,” she reassures him. “I’ve just, um, never had to think about stuff like that. I’m sorry you had to, though. It sounds shitty.”

“Not your fault. Don’t apologize for something like that.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling up at him. “Thank you for telling me, Yoongi.”

“Uh. Yeah. No prob,” he says, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His flush only darkens when she shoves a couple of won in his hand, and he realizes she’s been slowly guiding him in the direction of the subway station this whole time. “Wait, h-hey—”

“No, no, I don’t need it,” she says when he shoves the money back into her hands.

“But—”

“It’s fine,” she assures him, soft smile still gracing her features. “I’d rather not walk all the way back to the dorms. Just take it, you’ll be doing me a favor. You don’t have to pay me back or anything, either. It’s not that much, anyway.”

Yoongi frowns. As much as he wants to argue with her, he’s tired enough as it is, and he has no doubt she’d stay up all night just to stay here and debate this with him.

“Okay,” he relents. She grins in what he believes to be triumph before gently taking hold of his hand in one of hers and placing the money back into his grasp with the other. She waits outside for the subway take off, like she’s afraid he won’t do as she says unless she sees it happen. When the train lurches to a start, he watches her figure retreat through the glass windows.

There’s a stark contrast to her soft hands and the fussy way she thrust her money at him, he thinks.

Lim Yuri is a strange, strange girl.

Namjoon jumps in his seat, startled when Yuri suddenly marches in, plops in to the studio chair next to him, and looks up at him with crossed arms and a very non-threatening scowl on her face.

“I have a bone to pick,” she says, and his brain immediately kicks it into panic mode as he rakes through his mind for anything that he could have possibly done to upset her within the past week.

Namjoon likes to consider himself a considerate person who wouldn’t want to upset anyone, but for some reason this feels different from pure consideration. At the beginning, Yuri was just Kyunghee’s kid sister who happened to help make good music. These days, though, she feels more like a peer than a junior, more like a friend than a dongsaeng.

For whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint, her opinion of him has become quite important to him as of late. The idea that he’s done something she disapproves of makes his hands sweat. Even so, he manages to keep his composure, nodding as calmly as he can manage.

“What’s up?” he asks, cringing at the way his voice cracks. The way she sighs as she scoots her chair closer to his amps his anxiety up to eleven.

“You guys need to be nicer to Yoongi,” she says sternly, “You all really excluded him last week. He said you guys all went to each other’s houses after bouncing out last week and he just had nowhere to go. Why didn’t you guys plan for that or something?” Namjoon droops inward, like a kicked dog.

“Sorry,” he says, face hot with embarrassment despite immediately trying to justify himself. “It’s just—it was just kind of weird because nobody is really close to him or anything. The only person he really talks to is Ikje, and they’re not really even friends. We didn’t know how to broach the subject with him, or if he already had plans or anything, you know?”

“You could’ve asked,” she huffs, “I mean, I walked him to the subway station so he could ride back to the dorms, so everything turned out okay in the end. But—”

“By yourself?” Namjoon cuts her off. “That’s dangerous. Did you walk back by yourself, too? That late at night? Something could’ve happened. Why didn’t you ask Kyunghee to do it?” Yuri shakes her head fondly at his worrywart antics, and he sighs in relief when she smiles. It’s a warm reminder that she’s really not that mad at him.

“You sound like my dad,” she giggles, gently shoving at his arm. “Stop that. I’m trying to be mad at you.” He can’t resist cracking a smile back at her.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic.

“Anyway,” she continues, her tone considerably lighter, “Yoongi and I talked a bit when we were walking to the station, and like… I don’t know. It just made me realize how excluded he really was from everyone else. So can you just talk to him more, or something? And please try to get the other guys to talk to him more, too?”

“Yeah, of course. But for future reference, you could’ve called for a group discussion for this,” he chides, playfully adding, “I thought you were just mad at me for something. I really thought I did something wrong and didn’t know about it. You gave me a heart attack for no reason.”

“Sorry.” She laughs shyly now that it’s her turn to apologize. “It’s just—you’re the only one who really listens to me, you know? I feel like the rest of the guys kinda just see me as a little kid. I mean, I get it, because Kyunghee is my brother and Donghyuk is his best friend and Ikje is old, but like. I don’t know. I don’t feel like they respect me like you do, sometimes.”

Everything she says comes out in that nervous, rambly tone that she uses when she wants to keep things light, no matter how serious it actually is to her. Namjoon frowns.

“Sorry,” he says again. She shrugs.

“Not your fault,” she says, “I think things are gonna get better with Yoongi around, anyway.” Namjoon raises a curious brow at that.

“Oh?” is all he says. Yuri nods, like that’s an answer.

“He’s cool,” she says. “He was a little rude at first, but he got really shy and apologized when I pointed it out. Can you believe it? A man! Apologizing! Men never apologize, Namjoon!”

“I resent that statement.”

“Shut up, man,” she teases. They both chuckle at that. “Anyway. I think that you should try to talk to him, if anyone. I can’t tell you everything he said ‘cause that’s his business, but I will say that you’re both really passionate about music, so I think you’d get along really well.” Namjoon wrinkles his nose at her idealism, not quite sure about that one.

He supposes she’s sort of right, seeing as music is probably the only thing he and Yoongi can agree on. Even saying that is a stretch, because their very different methods of music-making lent cause to many studio debates. It’d probably be more accurate to say that music was the one field in which they respected each other enough to discuss things amicably. If the conversation wasn’t about music, they spent more time throwing passive-aggressive one-liners at one another than talking about anything else.

“I don’t know about that,” is all he decides to say.

“It can’t be that hard,” she says, pouting. “Yoongi is a nice person. And even if there are things you don’t agree on, you can’t deny that he works really hard. So at least try? For me?”

“That walk to the subway really changed you, huh?” he jokes. He’s expecting her to laugh or roll her eyes or smack him or something, but she nods sheepishly instead.

“He gives me good vibes,” she says like it’s an explanation.

“There you go with your vibes again,” he says. It comes out a bit more passive-aggressive than he’d have liked.

The atmosphere is a bit too fragile for him to start another debate, but it bothered him that she could dislike people like Hunchul because of the bad vibes she got from him, yet expect everyone to drop everything and befriend Yoongi because he gave her good vibes. She says that it’s just her intuition, but he thinks it’s just an excuse. Even without him saying all this, though, she rolls her eyes when she picks up on his implications.

“Yoongi really is a good guy, okay? I can feel it,” she tries convincing him. “I actually saw him smile, Namjoon. And he never smiles! And it was all cute and gummy! I know he comes off as kinda cold, but he just seems soft underneath it all. I just think he’s a person who’s been through a lot.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on him,” he teases. For whatever, the prospect of that makes him more uneasy than it should.

“I’m being serious!” she whines, smacking his arm. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting or arguing with him or whatever if that’s what you want. Just… try to make up after you fight.”

“It’s just weird,” Namjoon admits sheepishly. “It’s not like I want to fight, so I don’t. Especially if it’s over something stupid. I just try to ignore the little things. But then all those little things pile up into one big pile of resentment until I get mad at him for something stupid and he thinks I’m crazy and I’m still mad at him and it’s weird.”

It sounds stupid when he says it out loud, but the way that Yuri purses her lips and nods in understanding as he speaks makes him feel a little less crazy about it all. She’s always been someone that people just feel comfortable around, and Namjoon himself is no exception.

“It’s not weird,” she reassures him. “Fighting isn’t bad, I don’t think. I don’t love it, obviously, but Hitman Bang said the other week that being afraid of fights is only gonna let stuff like that and make the conflict big and worse. All I’m asking is that you at least talk to Yoongi.”

She looks up at him with those doe eyes when she says it, big and hopeful and pleading, and he can’t possibly bring himself to say no.

“Alright.”

Ever since his talk with Yuri last week, Yoongi has been finding instant ramyeon cups in his desk.

At first, he thinks it’s a one-off thing, maybe Yuri’s apology for saying something she thought was insensitive because he made her feel bad and she needs to soothe her conscience. But once he’s run out, they quickly get restocked when he’s not looking, and he has to admit that it warms his heart. He didn’t expect his words to affect her nearly as much as they currently seem to.

He appreciates that she doesn’t give him the noodles directly or even say anything about it. It lessens the guilt he already feels from receiving free food from his junior. Yuri doesn’t ask for any thanks or even any acknowledgement, not breaching the topic beyond asking if he’s eaten yet.

Lim Yuri, he’s come to find, is not as bad as he thought. A little naive, to be sure, but nothing like the selfish, spoiled little girl he’d conjured up in his head when he first met her. He feels bad for the image he’d once conjured up of her in his head, the little brat surrounded by shiny, foreign production equipment who was no doubt born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

Lim Yuri is kind and generous and even thoughtful when she wants to be. She feels too hard, so sentimental that she cries when a beat she’d been working on for the past six hours fails to save before her computer shuts off. He tells her she can just remake it, but she sniffles and shakes her head, saying that it just won’t be the same as the last one.

“That beat was, like, my baby, Yoongi,” she explained to him that day. “I can’t just replace it, you know?” He doesn’t quite get what she’s getting at, but nods anyways. Over time, he comes to find those weird antics of hers he once found annoying to be kind of… cute? Even if he doesn’t get them. Even now, as she whines cutely, all he can offer is a couple of comforting pats atop her head. He wishes he had more to give.

Maybe that’s the worst part of being the poor kid, he decides. Everyone is impossibly kind here, and he’s probably making an ass of himself by meeting that kindness with a cold distrust. So he brushes off their niceties knowing that he has nothing to give back in return, and thus is seen in a doubly awful light. He tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that at the very least, that prickly demeanor means that nobody is expecting anything of him.

After all, Yoongi doesn’t do well with expectations. He’s not the son his parents expected him to be, who’d get good grades and go to university in pursuit of a business degree or something before slaving away at a desk from nine-to-five everyday for the rest of his life, nor does he want to be.

But he has to be something.

Hence why he’s in need of a job. Not one of the office jobs that his parents suggested, mind you, but a simple part-time job to hold him over on top of being a trainee so that he doesn’t feel like a useless moocher. Thankfully, he’s already got it in the bag. As expected, they can’t just hire anyone, so they’ve just got one little test for him before they can officially put him on the employee roster.

What he doesn’t expect is to run into Lim Yuri, numerous plastic bags in hand.

“Yoongi!” she shouts when they make eye contact, running up to him excitedly. He’s never seen anybody that excited to see him, even back home in Daegu. It makes his heart feel a little funny.

“Hey,” he says, “I didn’t expect to run into you. What are you doing? Are you alone?” As annoyed as she wants to be, she can’t help but be endeared by the concern she shows her, the same kind that he showed her back when she walked him to the subway.

“Well… yes. But it’s fine. I’m not a kid, you know? Don’t worry about me so much! Really, you just sound like a grandpa when you talk like that,” she teases, “I bet one of these days I’ll come into your studio and you’ll be sprawled over the floor because your back gave out or something.”

“Hey, Hitman Bang says I’m an old soul,” he jokes, a wry grin on his face. She rolls her eyes.

“That’s just a polite way of saying he’s surprised that you’re this young and already depressed,” she snorts, but he can tell that there’s no malice to it. Still, it’s so unexpected of her that he has to do a double-take before bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t even notice the pedestrian light flash on until she links her pinky with his and walks him across the street. Surprising even himself, he can’t bring himself to really mind that much. In due time, he’s found himself growing adjusted to her touchiness. It’s kind of nice, when he thinks about it. It makes him feel a little less like an interloper. Makes him feel like he belongs where he is.

“It’s fine!” she assures him. He doesn’t look very convinced. “We’re in broad daylight, Yoongi. I just finished grocery shopping.” She lifts her bag-lined arms up for emphasis. “It was my turn this week. Kyunghee and I take turns with groceries since our mom isn’t around.”

“Makes sense,” Yoongi says. Now that she mentions it, they’d only ever mentioned having to avoid their father whenever everyone came over to the Lim household. He’d always just assumed their mom was out or at work or upstairs—never that she wasn’t around at all. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about it, but it seems too heavy of a topic to pry about right now, especially when he already has somewhere to be.

“What about you?” she asks. “Where’d you come from? Or are you headed somewhere?”

“Work,” he explains. “Sort of. It’s just a part-time job. I haven’t technically started yet, but I’m going to. It’s a delivery thing, so I’m just going to test the delivery bike so that they can see that I actually know how to drive and won’t ride around like a crazy person.”

“Like a motorcycle?” she asks enthusiastically. “A real one? You know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage, secretly revelling in how much it impresses her. It’s cute of her, he thinks, the way she’s so wowed by the little things. It’s like every conversation with her is an ego boost.

“Can I come watch?” she asks hopefully, eyes glittering with excitement.

And how could he possibly say no to that?

It’s a little silly, how bouncing-off-the-walls excited she is when they get there. Even the old couple who own the restaurant he’s supposed to be delivering for are enamored with her, wrapped up in conversation about meat buns or something. She really is genuinely sweet with them, so much so that they barely take notice when Yoongi mounts the bike they’ve prepared for him to test-ride.

It’s an older Yamaha model, the ‘YD250’ on the scratched up by what he assumes can only be years of wear and tear. He thinks nothing of it as he revs the bike up to life, but before he can take off and begin driving, he’s cut off by Yuri’s voice.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she calls out. “You should be wearing a helmet!”

“It’s in the box,” the old man explains.

“I’ve ridden without one before,” Yoongi mutters, resisting to roll his eyes at their safety concerns. And Yuri calls him the old person. Even so, he opens the delivery bike box mounted on the back of and reaches in to grab hold of the big black helmet so that he can put it on. “Happy?”

“Very,” Yuri says, sounding far too pleased for his liking. The old woman chuckles at their banter.

Yoongi takes off in a flash after that, quickly riding around the busiest blocks and most bustling streets a couple times, the image of Yuri’s enthusiastic eyes as he rode away on the motorcycle burned into his mind. It’s nice to be admired so deeply. It’s the only reason he’s still on board with the whole idol thing, after all. He doesn’t want to rely on his parents and their money for everything, though, so right now he just needs this job to help support his training.

He’s officially got the job, they inform him when he gets back. They also tell him that Yuri has been vouching for him in the mere minutes that he was gone. She ducks her head to hide her blush at that, and he finds her shyness in the moment impossibly cute. It only intensifies when she pipes up.

“Can I join you? On the back, I mean?” she asks bashfully. “I’ve, um, never ridden one before. I just think it’d be neat. You can just take me home, if you want. It’s not super far from here, I think.” In any other circumstance, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, but she’s asking him this question in front of his employers. Thankfully, the two nod when he looks to them for permission.

He can’t but feel kind of mortified by the way the old couple coos at him when he takes off his helmet off and places it atop her head, taking extra care to fasten the buckle tight.

“Cute,” she says. “But what about you?” It’s the little things like these that remind her how thoughtful and softhearted he is, even if he doesn’t really care to show it.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve ridden without one before,” he echoes his earlier sentiment. She doesn’t look convinced, but the old man speaks up before she can get a word in.

“Get your girlfriend home safe, alright?” he says, clapping his hand down onto Yoongi’s shoulder a little too forcefully. Both him and Yuri send each other an embarrassed glance at his assumption, but neither can find it in them to correct the old man.

“Yes, sir,” is all Yoongi says.

The ride back home is a lot less nerve-wracking than he had expected. Yuri’s soft from head to toe, he notes, like a little human pillow. Against his expectations, the feeling of her form pressed against his back throughout their ride in the city feels more comforting than restricting. So much so that he actually feels a little bit disappointed when they get to her house and she has to let go.

He helps her unload her groceries from the delivery bike box, watching as she takes every bag but one. He reaches in to grab it until he sees what’s inside—ramyeon. The exact kind that spawns in his desk every week. At that moment, he realizes that she left that specific bag inside on purpose.

“This is for me,” he says. It's a statement, not a question.

“Mmhm,” she replies. “It’s my favorite brand. It’s got that little egg brick in there, you know the one? These things are mostly carbs, so I think it’s a good source of protein. Good for building muscles.” He frowns, baffled as to how she can be so nonchalant about all this.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he says. “I have a job now, so I can buy my own food if I’m ever craving anything beyond those cardboard chicken breasts Hitman Bang gives us.” Yuri giggles at that. “I’m serious. I’ve already gotta pay you back for the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure if my salary is gonna be able to keep up.”

“Hey,” she says gently, staring him down a bit more earnestly now. “You don’t have to pay me back for anything, okay? The ones I get for you are only, like, 1200 won per little cup.”

“Isn’t 1200 won kind of a lot?”

“It’s not,” she assures him. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine. It’s really fine. It doesn’t hurt me at all. If it did, I wouldn’t keep doing it.” Yoongi pulls a face, not entirely convinced.

“You may not feel bad, but like—I feel bad.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” he says. Yuri sighs.

“Yoongi—”

“It’s not just the ramyeon, you know?” he says, staring mindlessly at some spot on the ground. Anywhere but her face. It’s a daunting task when he speaks so earnestly. “It’s just—you do so much for everyone all the time. And I’m just—I don’t even talk to anybody.”

“Hey.” Yuri speaks softly, taking one of his hands between both of hers in what he thinks is an attempt to comfort him. Her hands are just as soft as they were that night by the subway, he muses. “You can’t blame all that on yourself, you know? I know the other guys aren’t the best at being friendly and inclusive and all that, but that’s not your fault. It’s more of a time thing.”

“A time thing?” he asks.

“We’ve all known each other for, like, two or three years before you came here,” she explains. “ So I think they’re just trying to get used to you? But they don’t dislike you! If anything, I’m sure they’ll like you soon. I mean, I already like you, so it shouldn’t be too hard for them to follow suit.”

“Okay,” he says, thinking nothing of the flush that spreads up to the tips of his ears.

Namjoon supposes that now is as good a time as any when Yoongi steps into his studio.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. After all, Yuri points out, Yoongi is the one alone in Seoul with nobody to talk to. When she puts it like that, it makes them all sound like assholes. Maybe they are. But it’s fine, because Namjoon is finally going to be nice and converse with him about something not music-related. The bar is on the floor. All he needs to do is open his mouth and say something.

“We need to talk,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows he’s said the wrong thing when Yoongi’s eyes widen like saucers, anxiously backing up until his back hits the door like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Oh God, no, not like that. You’re okay. You’re not in trouble.”

“Oh. Alright,” Yoongi says, visibly relaxing.

“I just, um. I wanted to talk,” he repeats. “I feel like I’ve been… mean? But I’m not trying to be. It’s just that I’m supposed to be the leader, but you’re the hyung. “And you also produce a lot of our songs—which I’m really, really grateful for, of course. I just don’t know how to talk about things as a leader without seeming disrespectful. I try to keep my mouth shut about it, but I guess that’s how things like that build up, you know?”

“My mom gave birth to me,” Yoongi says, seemingly out of the blue, and Namjoon laughs. It’s that loud, booming laugh of his that always fills up the whole room.

“What—?!” he laughs incredulously.

“Let me finish,” Yoongi says, hopelessly fighting to the smile off of his face. “My mom gave birth to me. My mom is older to me, obviously, and she’s done a lot for me, too. And of course I’m grateful for that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight her on some things. Doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything she says, because I haven’t. Neither have you—if we did, neither of us would be here right now. We’d be like, I don’t know, doing cram school or preparing for university shit or something like that. I think I’d resent her if that’s what I was doing right now just because I wanted to please her. That’s why it’s okay to fight. If we don’t, then all that resentment just grows.” Namjoon smiles fondly at him.

“You really are an old man,” he chuckles, prompting Yoongi to raise a brow at him. “Hitman Bang said the same thing, you know? About fighting being good, since conflicts just get bigger if you don’t fight.”

“Well… he’s right.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Namjoon replies.

“So no more not-fighting?” Yoongi asks. It’s so ridiculous, the way he has to phrase it—but Namjoon nods, so he supposes that it gets the point across well enough. “We’ll try to resolve problems instead of avoiding them completely.”

“No more not-fighting,” he agrees. “Resolving things. Not avoiding them.” He holds out a pinky.

It’s a ridiculously silly sight, Yoongi thinks, the way Namjoon’s large hand offers out a pinky for what he thinks must be a pinky promise. Seeing someone as big as Namjoon do something so childish is unfairly endearing. He must’ve picked up from Yuri, he muses. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“Did you just giggle?”

“Huh?”

“That was kind of cute, hyung.” Yoongi flushes a dusky pink.

“…shut up.”

Yuri doesn’t come in late on Sundays anymore, Yoongi muses.

She always used to come in late on Sundays, which was a stark contrast to her appearances right after school on weekdays and her early morning entrances on Saturdays. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before, but he supposes it’s a good thing that he does now. It means that at the very least, they’re taking note of each other’s presence.

Yoongi does think it’s weird, but for as curious as he is, he is not nosy enough to ask about it. Normally, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to do so, but with the talk he had with Hitman Bang last week about getting along better with everyone, he’s having second thoughts.

Yuri may not be a fellow trainee, but she’s still a member of their team. He only just started talking easily to Namjoon, so Yuri is easily the most comfortable person to talk to. After a rather heated internal battle, he gives in and brings it up to her.

“I’m glad you come in on Sundays, now,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. “What cleared your schedule up?”

“Oh!” she says, pleasantly surprised that Yoongi is taking the first step in making conversation. “My mama worked as a vocal teacher before she divorced my dad and moved away, so my little brother Daniel and I would go over there to help her, especially with translating stuff since her Korean wasn’t very good. I used to go over to help the other lady who works there on Sundays since she’s nice and I liked singing! But Daniel handles all that now, so I’m free to work here with you guys.”

That’s certainly a can of worms. He’s learned more about her and her home life from this single conversation than he did from the night he was over at her house, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable by pressing further about the deep shit, so he keeps his digging as shallow as he can.

“You sing?” he says, and she flushes.

“Yes,” she admits. “But like. Not in front of other people. That’s scary.”

“Like stage fright?”

“Sort of,” she says. “It’s different. More like, scary in the sense that you have to share your art that you’ve poured all your heart and soul into for so long. Because then when people reject it or don’t like it, you feel like they don’t like you. On top of that, people also care about visuals and dancing and aegyo, and like… how am I supposed to fulfill all those categories?”

“I get that,” he says. He always knew that music would be a big part of his life, but he never imagined he’d be performing for other people. The thought of scrutiny had always made his stomach churn, but that’s basically all that idol life was. He’s not sure how he’ll handle it. “You don’t think you’ll ever be singing on a stage one day?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Maybe one day,” she says. “Maybe if I was more… you know.” She grimaces as she makes a vague gesture with her hand.

“Mm-hm.” Really, he doesn’t know, but it seems like a touchy subject.

He deems it better not to pry.

Big Hit and Source Music are due to debut a girl group soon, Hitman Bang says.

Unlike the boys, they’ve even got a name—GLAM. Yoongi, however, has yet to know the group’s trainees beyond seeing them in passing. After all, Source is the one handling all the management and promotion and all that fancy stuff.

(Hitman Bang says he’d never be able to manage a girl group because he doesn’t understand women. It takes all of Yoongi’s willpower to stifle a laugh when Yuri says she’s not surprised.)

Meanwhile, all Big Hit has to do is help make their music.

Yoongi feels a bit of pressure when faced with the prospect of making music for somebody else. Music has always been a very personal process for him. The thought of someone else interpreting his work was both exciting and overwhelming. While the prospect of someone interpreting his work or liking his work enough to perform it piqued his interest, the idea of someone either fucking up something he made or pitching his work to someone who’d only reject it was anxiety-inducing.

To his relief, that is not what he is currently doing.

At the moment, he’s currently mixing a demo for one of GLAM’s future songs, touching up the vocals so that they stand out above the instrumental’s bouncy synths. It has a nice vibe to it, he muses. It’s in English, but he understands enough of it to make out that it’s about getting ‘too close’ to somebody who’s supposed to be a friend. Hitman Bang must’ve purchased it from some overseas songwriter. He’s not sure why. It seems like it’d be an expensive process, and even after buying it they’ll have to translate it back into Korean. What was the point of all that hassle?

At least it sounds nice, Yoongi supposes. It’s a cute, pop-based little R&B track with airy vocals. The high notes are clear and smooth, with a distinct little squeak at the end of the high notes. It’s almost familiar, he muses, but he’s listened to a lot of music in his lifetime, so—wait a minute.

Yuri. That’s Yuri’s voice.

He recognizes those little squeaks anywhere, reminiscent of the whiny tones she makes whenever she’s being stubborn about something. It’s harder to pick up on when she speaks in English, which he supposes he should’ve assumed she’d know how to speak. He recalls Namjoon offhandedly mentioning that she was his English tutor a couple of times, as well as Yuri mentioning translating for her mom. Still, he’s never actually heard it come out of her mouth. It’s kind of jarring.

Against his better judgement, he asks her about it.

“Oh! Um, yeah, that’s me,” she admits, laughing sheepishly. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It’s good,” he assures her. “Your voice is pretty. The lyrics you wrote are catchy. I bet you could be an idol, if you wanted to.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so,” she says just a bit too forcefully, “I’m perfectly content just producing for you guys. Seriously.”

“That’s selfless of you,” he says. She shakes her head.

“It’s actually a little selfish, when I think about it,” she laughs nervously. “To be honest, I think a big part of my support comes from living vicariously through you guys. Saying it out loud makes it sound kind of awful, but you guys are doing things I could only ever dream of doing. I’m just here to make sure you guys are as successful as possible at all the things you’re doing, you know? Even though I’m not actually, like, putting in all the work and being on stage and all that.”

“You could, if you really wanted to,” he says encouragingly. She shakes her head.

“I mean, I don’t think I look very idol-like,” Yoongi muses.

“You do!” she argues. Poking at his pale cheek to emphasize her next point, she says, “White as sugar, just like old man Bang said. You’ve got that glass skin, you know?”

“That’s because I don’t go outside,” he says, self-deprecating as ever as he swats her hand away.

“Oppa,” she whines in a way he thinks is unfairly cute of her. “Just accept the compliment, okay?” He rolls his eyes, but relents to her wishes anyway.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re very welcome,” she says, sounding far too pleased with herself. “Don’t be like that, okay?”

“Like what?” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well… you know. Mean to yourself about how you look,” she explains. “Namjoon is the same, which is sad. And also just not great for an idol, you know? You have to be at least a little confident in your looks, or you’re gonna be miserable every time the stylists dress you. It takes them longer than you’d think. Or so I’ve heard.”

“There’s not much to be proud of,” he deflects, not missing the way that Yuri rolls her eyes like that.

When she raises her hand, he thinks she’s gonna flick his forehead or prod at his face again or something, but instead she places a finger on the tip of his nose. He furrows his brows together.

“What—”

“Your nose is cute,” she says matter-of-factly. He can’t help the strangled noise of surprise that escapes him at that, face growing hot as he flusters. “And your pale skin makes it easier to see when you blush, too. That’s a strong charm point as well, I think. You’ve got lots of charms.” He turns away, shaking his head in disbelief.

Still, it’s nice to know that somebody thinks so.

Yoongi presses the end call button on his phone just a little too forcefully.

Another phone call, another argument with his parents. It was instances like these that made him not want to call them at all. He’s always in this limbo of guilt, grateful that they paid for his trainee contract while also being angry at the way they constantly voice their disapproval. He slams his phone down onto his desk in frustration.

Apparently, it was louder than he thought. His studio door opens up a sliver, just enough for Yuri to peek her head in.

“Hey,” she calls softly. “Everything alright in there?” Yoongi pulls a face that makes it obvious that no, he is not alright. “Can I come in, then?”

Upon his nod of approval, she files into the room, gently closing the door shut behind her. She walks over and settles into the seat across from his, sliding it over next to his so she can lay her head on his shoulder. Her touch is comforting, he thinks.

“Talk to me,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes, I think I should just… I don’t know. Anything to stop shit like that from happening,” he sighs. “My parents nagging me, I guess. Just go back home. Go to college. Get a nine-to-five. Have a nice family, or something.” And Yuri frowns, because she gets it.

It’s something she’s spent many days and nights comforting Namjoon over when he’s just had another argument with his parents over the same exact thing. She wishes she could relate or understand, or anything to comfort him—but she can’t.

She’s glad the two can talk to each other about it now, but she can’t help but feel a little jealous that she can’t be a part of the conversation and can help them. She almost scoffs at herself for envying them being able to bond over their unsupportive parents. How fucked up was that?

Heaving a sigh, she hops up and takes a seat on the edge of his desk, careful to mind his production equipment. She swings her feet up into his lap, in that very casually touchy Yuri-esque way of hers. Impulsively, he brings a hand up to gently tap at her shin. She tries not to giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Yoongi,” she starts, as seriously as she can manage. “Not to be, like. A downer or anything. But when your parents are gone, where would that put you? Stuck in a job you hate for no reason?”

“Six feet under,” he snorts, and she gasps.

“Not funny!” she whines, kicking at his hand. Her assault on his poor palm only gets worse when he bursts out laughing. “So not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing.

“I really am trying to be supportive,” she huffs, a bit less childishly, now. “But I can’t like. Get it, get it, you know? The only reason I have any idea what to say here is ‘cause I’ve had this talk before. You know, if you two tried talking to each other more about personal stuff, I think you’d see that you and Namjoon are more alike than you might think. I’m not going to spill his business, but. I’ll just say that I think if anyone were to get it, it’d be him. It took some coaxing from my dad, but both my parents are okay with me pursuing music, now. As long as I took the producer route and not the idol route, at least. But still. It’s a good start. I’m lucky. I’ve got it better than a lot of people do, I think.”

“Would you?”

“Hm?”

“Take the idol route,” he clarifies, looking down at her shoes. “If you were given the choice.”

Sometimes, Yoongi feels like he’s never been given a choice. It feels like he’s been given every setback in the world. He’s never had the support or the funds or the hunger for fame that so often accompanied those pursuing music. He can barely remember why or when or what began his relationship with music, but he so vividly remembers feeling it, feeling like music chose him rather than the other way around. He can’t help but wonder what someone who seems to have been given almost all the choice in the world has to say about the only restrictions she’s been given.

Not much, it seems.

“Oh, um, nah. I don’t think so,” she laughs nervously. “I’m just—I’m not really pretty enough?”

“You are pretty,” he says, too quickly and too naturally to be insincere. He doesn’t miss the way that she ducks her head to hide the flush flooding into her cheeks.

This must be the vague ‘you know’ thing she was always talking about, Yoongi muses. He really should’ve picked up on it from the moment she said she didn’t look very idol-like. He’s never been the type to kiss up, so he hopes she knows that he means it.

“You’re so—stop that,” she whines, embarrassed. She half-heartedly attempts to kick at his hand again, but makes no move to try again when she misses. “You’re too much.”

“I’m serious,” he says.

“I know,” she squeaks, hands flying up to cover her flushed cheeks up in embarrassment. “That’s the embarrassing part. Get some taste or something.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Yuri,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You always tell Namjoon and I not to be insecure about appearances, but you act the same when it comes to yours.”

“That’s different,” she whines, “You and Namjoon are gonna be in front of the cameras. I’m gonna be behind them. I don’t need to muster up any kind of confidence for that. Which is good. Because I don’t have it.”

“Looks don’t matter to me,” he says flatly. “But confidence does. I’m not gonna hold your hand and tell you that you’re pretty all day, even if I think it’s true, ‘cause you’re not gonna believe it no matter how many times I say it.”

“Ouch.”

“Let me finish,” he continues, “Even if it isn’t your looks, you deserve to at least be confident in something. Your music, your grades, your music, whatever. You’re generous and thoughtful. Don’t let society make you miserable just because all they care about is appearances.”

Yuri doesn’t say anything, her face still buried in her hands. More than a little bit concerned at this point, Yoongi flicks her forehead through her bangs.

“Hey, you good in there?” he asks. She doesn’t reply. Just sniffles. Oh, fuck. “Uh, sorry, I—” Yuri shakes her head, finally lowering her hands.

“Don’t be,” she laughs nervously, still teary-eyed. “That was one of the nicest things a boy ever said to me. You should be, like, a motivational speaker or something.” He snorts.

“I can’t give advice to like. People I don’t care about,” he says, grinning awkwardly, “I’d just tell them to get their shit together and I’d get fired.” Yuri can’t fight the smile off of her cheeks at that.

She’s sure she’d know that he cares through his Yoongi-isms alone, but it’s nice to hear it from the man himself. He wouldn’t be giving this advice if he didn’t care.

Min Yoongi cares about her, and it makes her heart feel warm.

Lim Yuri has become an unexpected addition to Yoongi’s delivery sprees.

Yuri’s arms, small and gentle, have become a comforting presence as they wrap around his waist. The old couple doesn’t seem to mind the extra person joining him on his trips, content with her politeness and the fact that she isn’t demanding any money despite providing help. They coo about the highs and lows of young love whenever Yuri arrives to join him on his trips, and Yoongi can’t find the energy within himself to correct them.

Things go on like this for a long time, hours, days, weeks, of this halcyon. Her arms keep him warm in the winter and her cold hands keep him refreshed in the late months of spring. The old husband hands them a bag of leftover food for them to eat together, an wistful smile on his face.

They eat in the midst of impromptu therapy sessions, which usually consist of Yuri comforting Yoongi as he complains about his problems. It’s okay, though, because she likes to give advice and she likes how deep his voice is when he talks and she doesn’t have many problems of her own to complain about, anyway. When she does talk, it’s always lighthearted, talking about a song she wrote or something dumb Kyunghee and Daniel did or how cute Namjoon’s dimples were on that particular day.

One day, curiosity kills the cat, and Yoongi asks a question that’s been killing him from the start.

“Why do you like Namjoon so much, anyway?” It’s something Yoongi asks out of the blue, so much so that he doesn’t even realize he’s asking it until it slips out. He’s not sure what he’s expecting until she answers, and when he does, he realizes that his expectation was literally anything but what she says next.

“No reason,” she says, and he’s so thrown for a loop by the words that leave her that he practically stumbles over his feet when he hears them.

“Wait, seriously?” he says. “I’ve read your lyrics, you know. You’re good with words.”

“I am?” she says, sounding far too surprised for his liking.

“Yeah. Which is why I thought you’d have a way better answer than that,” he says. “I expected you to talk about…” He pauses as he sifts through his brain for all the things that he personally finds attractive about Namjoon. “…I don’t know, his dimples or his height or his good grades or something.” All things that he lacks, Yoongi muses with insecurity.

“Oh my God. Those are all, like, great and all, but they’re not like… why I like him,” Yuri giggles. “He’s just—I don’t know. There’s a lot of things about him that make me like him, but I can’t, like, come up with an itemized list. It’s not like one day he reached a quota in traits I liked and suddenly I liked him. I just realized I did. I just… felt it. It felt right. He felt right.”

“Oh.” Yoongi feels a pang of jealousy at that, like an itch he can’t scratch. Maybe it’s because a tender part of him can only dream of being loved so dearly.

He silently wonders what it would be like to be loved by a person like Lim Yuri.

Namjoon has been feeling himself growing fonder and fonder of Yoongi in these past months.

Finally learning to talk to him without being all weird has helped with that. Without the formalities, they’re both able to speak a lot more freely. In the time that they’ve done so, the two have been able to talk about and bond over their rocky family situations and their choice to pursue music.

What’s fueled his fondness more than anything, though, is Yoongi’s little habits—the way he runs a hand through his jet black hair as he shyly recommends jazz and art study because they seem like the type of thing you’d like, Namjoonie, the way he always wears those grey jacket and sweats because they’re warm and winter is starting to trickle in, the way he smiles with his gums just like Yuri said he would.

Those two have gotten impossibly close lately, Namjoon notes. Now, he doesn’t think he’s the most perceptive person in the world, but it’s hard to miss the tenderness in their actions. Every time he steals a glance in their direction, they’re exchanging knowing glances or whispering softly to each other or linking pinkies in the way that Yuri loves to do so much.

It’s only natural to conclude that Min Yoongi and Lim Yuri are involved.

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. It has no reason to, right? But it does. He combs through his mind for any possible reason that it should. Maybe it’s because Yoongi, who’s agreed to be more honest with him, hasn’t told him about it. Maybe it’s because Yuri, ever perceptive, has been one of his closest friends for years and yet seems to have no intentions in telling him about it despite how painfully obvious their interactions make things.

The familiar sting of loneliness rises sharply in his chest when he sees them interact, like they’re in their own little world, with seemingly no room for him. He feels like he’s spying on their relationship when he shouldn’t be. He feels like a voyeur. He feels like an interloper.

Maybe this is how Yoongi felt when he first came to Big Hit, he muses. If this is how he feels just watching him and Yuri, he can’t imagine having to watch everyone who’s known each other for years talk and laugh together from the outside. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels selfish and ridiculous for being so bothered by it. After all, who was he to meddle in their affairs?

Maybe it’s high time he finds one of his own.

Yuri’s sheets are soft, Yoongi thinks.

They’re at her house today, Yuri not feeling very keen on having this conversation in the Big Hit building for fear that Namjoon might walk in on them while they’re talking about him. Right now, she’s half-heartedly producing something on her bedroom computer and venting to Yoongi as he lies on her bed.

She rants about how Namjoon has been talking a lot about girls lately, clearly bothered. She especially seems bothered by the fact that Namjoon won’t let her be as touchy with him as she used to be. Normally, Yoongi wouldn’t give a damn about other people’s affairs, but things are different, this time. While he’s not personally bothered by it, he doesn’t like the fact that it bothers her so much, for whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint.

Dear Lord, she even goes into detail, describing each and every pretty girl in a way that is far less flowery than he believes Namjoon would speak about a girl.

“And then there’s Jieun, who they all say is a good kisser. What does that even mean? Like, what the hell makes someone a good kisser? You just jam your lips together, right?”

“You’ve never been kissed,” he says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes?”

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” he says. Yuri gasps as she smacks at his arm, clearly mortified.

“No it’s not! Shut up!” she says indignantly. He’s trying to take her seriously, but her squeaky little whines make that hard.

“Sorry—” he tries apologizing through his laughter.

“You don’t sound sorry at all!” she whines. “It’s not funny, okay? It’s fine! I’m still young!”

“You’re sixteen already!”

“I’m only sixteen!” she huffs, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “I-I have time, okay? We can’t all be heartbreakers, Min Yoongi.”

“Heartbreaker?” he repeats. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since middle school.”

“I never said you were one,” she defends herself.

“You implied it.”

“I—whatever!” she huffs. “I’m saving my first kiss for someone special. And it’s gonna be somewhere magical, like under the cherry blossoms at the Goyang Flower Festival or on a picnic blanket under the stars on New Year’s or something.”

Oh my God. He’s trying so hard to stop his laughter.

“Did you swallow a fucking romance novel?” he laughs. “My first kiss took place in the hallway after gym class, so like. Don’t be surprised if it sucks and you mess up and slobber all over them or something like that.”

When he turns to look at Yuri, she looks incredibly nervous. She’s come to a still in her spinny chair, nervously pulling her hair over her face as she ponders his words with utmost seriousness.

“Do you think that?” she asks, voice small.

“What?” he asks. Wordlessly, she sighs, wheeling her chair backwards over to where he’s lying on her bed. She cranes her neck back onto her bed, coming face-to-face with him.

“Do you think I’ll mess up my first kiss?” she says softly. Not that she needs to speak anything but—she’s so close he can feel her breath against his nose. He pulls away, face aflush.

“You’ll be fine,” he mutters, voice cracking.

Yuri gives a huff, seemingly dissatisfied with his answer. She hops down from her chair—there’s an inherent cuteness in the fact that her feet don’t touch the ground when she sits on it, Yoongi muses—and up onto the bed, right next to him. He rolls his eyes when she settles onto her knees and urges him to sit up, too. He obliges, in spite of his annoyance.

“What was your first kiss like? Aside from the whole being in the hallway thing?” she whispers, like they’re telling secrets. There’s nobody else in the house but Daniel (who’s probably got his headphones cranked up to a hundred percent), so Yoongi can’t help but find her antics endearing.

“My first kiss was just a kiss. Nothing bad. Nothing mind-blowing,” he says with a shrug.

Even that’s a bit of a stretch. They were both gross and sweaty and their teeth clacked together. But he already feels kinda bad for making her doubt herself so much, and he doesn’t want to aggravate her worries.

“So how did… did you just…” she gestures awkwardly with her friends as she trails off, unable to articulate whatever she wants to say. He gets it, though. He always does.

“You just go for it,” he says, “It’s the kinda thing you just feel your way through. Just don’t think too hard about it. You’re good at doing things without thinking, so it should go well for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes at the back-handed compliment. “It’s just—I don’t wanna mess up in the future if I ever… you know.”

“Just say kiss,” he teases. “It’s not as sacred as you’re making it out to be. It’s just lips-on-lips. If humans never decided it was a thing to kiss people you liked, it wouldn’t be important at all. It’d just be an exchange of germs.”

“It’s important to me!” she bristles, so aggressively that it throws him for a loop. She takes note of her overreaction, coughing awkwardly before returning to her normal volume. She repeats, “I-It’s important to me. I just want it to be nice. I don’t wanna be disappointed. And I don’t wanna be someone else’s disappointment. That’s why I’m asking you this.”

“What are you asking?” he says, raising a brow.

“Augh!” She buries her face into her hands, miserably failing an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. Peeking through her fingertips, she gently continues, “Just… hypothetically… purely for practice reasons… it wouldn’t count as my first kiss if you could, um. Help me. Try. Practice. I don’t know.”

The room goes impossibly quiet. She can’t say a word after that, the pair just staring at each other in awkward silence, him impossibly floored at the suggestion. Their faces go blank as Yuri processes what the hell she just did and Yoongi processes what the hell just happened.

When it all finally clicks, Min Yoongi has the audacity to fucking smirk, gums showing and all.

“Practice,” he repeats, no lilt to it, no bite. His attempts to remain straight-faced are to no avail, because her pouting up at him is all it takes for him to burst out laughing.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she yells, pushing him back down onto the bed. “Just forget it! Forget I said anything!” She hooks a leg over his waist, pinning him down before grabbing a pillow and smacking him as hard as she can with it. The pain does little to quell his laughter.

“Get off!” he laughs in-between smacks. “You’re too much!”

“Are you calling me heavy?!” she asks, more fake-offended than anything.

“What—no! What the fuck made you think that?!” he tries to sound indignant, but he’s still laughing, and before he knows it, she’s laughing too. When the laughter subsides and the room goes quiet, they both realize what kind of situation they’re in. Yuri’s still got him pinned down, having just talked about first kisses. Kisses in general. Having just proposed that they kiss. The air goes tense.

“So,” Yoongi says, cutting through the silence.

“So.”

“I didn’t. Uh. I didn’t say no.” He has the decency to look embarrassed, now, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. “Unless you don’t want to.”

The two stare at each other for a moment after that, like they’re waiting for the other to back down. A Clint Eastwood-style duel of the eyes, so to speak.

“I won’t start something I can’t finish,” she says decidedly.

She leans in as promised,

presses her nose against his—

“I’m sorry!”

—and promptly places both hands over his mouth.

The motion isn’t harsh enough to hurt too bad—only a light sting—but it is very sudden. Yoongi blinks up at her a couple of times in surprise just to reassure himself that whatever that was actually just happened.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “For um—yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this? Because, um, you know. If someone asks me when my first kiss was, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, it was on my bed at like, 11PM when I was in high school. A-And that already makes me sound terrible! And then when they ask with who, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, just with my friend that I work with so I could practice kissing for the future since I was in love with our friend!’ And that’ll be my stupid goddamn answer! And that’s… that’s, um… that’s kind of not very romantic…”

Her voice tapers off towards the end, quieting in what Yoongi thinks is embarrassment as she takes his hands off of his mouth. It really does sound kind of ridiculous when she says it out loud. Maybe Yoongi was onto something when he laughed at her for sounding like she ‘swallowed a romance novel.’ To her relief, his next response is anything but patronizing.

“Hey,” he says, “Relax. Don’t apologize for changing your mind, that’s just—that’s just weird. Don’t force yourself to do shit you don’t want to. That’s weird.”

She’s so close. They’re still nose-to-nose, breath tickling each other’s lips every time the other speaks. He awkwardly pats the back of her thigh a couple of times, which she reads as a signal to roll off of him. She obliges. Even though she knows he doesn’t mean much by that little touch, the intimacy of it still makes her blush. Thankfully, he can’t see it with the both of them laying back down onto the bed and staring awkwardly at the ceiling above them. Yoongi pretends to find interest in the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he repeats.

“Sorry,” she says again.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her, because as mortifying as the situation is for them both, it really is fine.

She blindly reaches her hand out to find his, feeling around until their fingers meet. When he fondly links his pinky in hers, the way she always does with him, she decides that a kiss isn’t the kind of thing she should be rushing into, anyways.

Yoongi just assumes it isn’t weird.

After all, Yuri settles against him so naturally, her face buried into his neck and her studio chair sidled next to his as he sits at his desk and works on mixing what he hopes will end up being a song on their first album, whenever that comes out. Were it not for the way that her breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck, he would barely even register that she was there.

Well. Maybe not barely.

She’s so warm, the way she presses against him. She’s always warm, except in her hands, but it’s fine because his hands are always colder. Her cold fingers thread through his hair, and it reminds him of how accustomed he’s become to her touchiness. It’s just a habit of hers, he’s since learned. She has a lot of little habits he once found weird, but now only sees those habits as things that make her Yuri.

Yuri who hides behind her hair when she’s shy or nervous. Yuri who only wears half her jacket and leaves the other half hanging off for no reason. Yuri who wordlessly leaves ramen cups on his desk. Yuri who has to link her pinky with someone else’s when she’s nervous. Yuri who awkwardly bends her hands to link both of hers together when she doesn’t want to be a bother.

But it’s come to the point where she’s never a bother anymore. If she were, he wouldn’t have situated himself in her life as the outlier, the one person who coaxes her to talk about all of her problems because she’s the one resolving everyone else’s. Yuri taking always feels like giving, because he takes in her little habits and private thoughts that she shares with him and nobody else. It makes him feel more important than it makes him feel annoyed.

She has a special bond with everyone at Big Hit, and even with the Source Music and JYP trainees they practice with—she wouldn’t be going out of her way to force them all to resolve their conflicts, otherwise, even if they see her as nosy and meddling because of it.

In everyone being special, he supposes, he has gone full circle in no longer being special. Maybe he is, but he’s not as important to her as say, Kyunghee, her own damn brother, or Namjoon, who she stares at like he holds all the world’s answers. With that, Yoongi takes his place in her heart at a solid bronze (at the very most), which stings a little more than he’d like to admit.

He hasn’t had much opportunity to grow as close to anyone at Big Hit—hell, anyone in Seoul—yet. Maybe that’s why he’s grown so attached to her like this. As sad as it is, she is quite literally the one person in the whole city that he’s close to. Listening to all her problems like this makes him feel like he’s just as important to her, so he can feel a little bit less pathetic about holding her so close to his heart. Even if the problems that she tells him reveal anything but.

“I’m so stupid,” she whines against his neck. Her warm breath gives him goosebumps.

“Jeez, you’re not. How many times do we have to go over this?” He’s been comforting her over this for the past half-hour now.

Namjoon has a girlfriend now. A tall girl from his advanced algebra class with great math skills and pale skin and sharp eyes—everything that Yuri does not have. He knows she’s insecure about it from the way she wrinkles her nose when she sees her reflection in the mirrors of the practice rooms. It makes him want to throttle Namjoon, despite him probably not having a clue.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice small, “For dumping all this on you, you know? I don’t wanna be that friend who only ever talks to you when I have problems. I kinda feel like I’m using you.”

“Hey, hey. It’s fine. Relax,” he says, feeling her nod softly into his neck as he continues, “It doesn’t bother me.” In fact, he prefers it, is what he doesn’t tell her. Humiliating as it is, he revels in feeling like he’s giving something, when he always feels like he’s taking from her. Like everyone is taking from her.

He knows what it’s like to be a producer, always behind the scenes of it all. She says she’s perfectly content with it, but he once said the same thing back in Daegu. But even when he chose to do things and make things for other people like this, there was always that underlying feeling of feeling like something has been taken from you. Sometimes it was just wanting the same amount of recognition as the people singing the songs you made.

Being young in society meant a desire for acceptance, and what bigger acceptance was there than fame? He recognizes the stars in her eyes whenever they practice with the other trainees in JYP’s big, shiny entertainment building because his own eyes held them once, too.

He’s still a trainee, so maybe they still do.

But for now, he’s letting himself dream small, living in the studio whenever he doesn’t have to practice those stupid dances Hitman Bang has them do. For now, music comes first, especially with his current job as one of the company’s main producers.

Producing is a lot harder with one hand, he muses, noting that she has at some point monopolized his left one when he wasn’t paying attention. He interlocks their fingers in spite of it all. With his ability to perform keyboard shortcuts impaired, he delegates the task of manually clicking things to his free hand. It’s annoying, but the feeling of her hand fit so snugly in his makes the inconvenience feel worth it. They sit like that for a while, quiet as one of her hands threads through his hair and the other softly strokes at his hand with her thumb.

“I like your hands,” she says. “They’re nice to hold.” Yoongi swallows. She’s so close to him that he’s scared she’ll hear how fast his heart is beating. To his relief, she says nothing of it.

“They’re just hands,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage. “Cold hands.”

“Usually when you hold someone’s hand they get all hot and sweaty and clammy and gross, which is why I do the pinky-linking thing,” she muses, “Yours don’t do that, so they’re nice to hold. And they’re honestly not even that cold.”

“They are,” he argues.

“I don’t think your hands are ever that cold,” she says, her voice a teasing lilt. “I think you just keep saying that so you have an excuse to have your hands held. I bet you secretly love skinship.” He rolls his eyes, tightening an arm around her tiny frame.

“Watch it. Your life is in my hands,” he says, as flatly as he can manage for maximum ominosity.

With a squeak, she flies off of him like he’s on fire. He can’t help but smile, wide and gummy, at her Yuri-esque antics. Even when she turns away, shaking her head fondly, he can feel his heart swell in his chest as he looks at her. It reminds him why she’s the first one at Big Hit he was able to really talk to. Everything feels easy and comfortable with her, the way he felt back in Daegu.

His reverie is interrupted by Namjoon’s voice booming from the studio next to his.

“Yuri!” he calls. “Can you look at this for me?”

Hearing this, she does a little happy dance with her feet. It’s a habit he usually finds endearing, but right now it just makes his stomach twist. She waves him off, dropping everything—she even forgets her water bottle on his desk—to run off and attend to whatever Namjoon needs her for.

“I’ll be back,” she says in a sing-song voice as she’s out the door.

He knows she will. She always comes back to him whenever Namjoon isn’t available.

Yoongi runs a frustrated hand through his hair, not sure why it bothers him so much. The fact that he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much bothers him more than anything else.

Yuri is awake at the Big Hit dorms at two in the morning.

This is nothing out of the ordinary, though. Whenever their dad was out of the country on a business trip, she always took the opportunity to stay out past curfew as a chance to spend her nights at the Big Hit studio while Kyunghee played video games with Donghyuk in the dorms. She always had to hide in the studio until early dawn so as to not get caught by Hitman Bang, who made it clear that he detested the idea of someone so young being out late just to work for him.

Today is different, though. Today, she’s in the dorms, taking a well-deserved break from work as she lays on her stomach next to Yoongi and watches a movie with him. She brought the DVD over from her house, thinking nothing of the way her father’s old American movies lined the TV stand until the day Yoongi bashfully mentioned wanting to watch it.

So here they are, watching a Korean-subbed version of Scarface on the tiny screen of his laptop. Yuri can’t enjoy the movie very much, finding it a bit too bleak and violent for her liking. And it just never gets better. It’s just hit after hit, one bad thing happening after another. She’s sure that if she squinted hard enough, she would be able to appreciate the cinematography and whatever deeper meaning the film holds, but that sounds like too much brainpower to be using at two in the morning.

Yoongi seems to find it interesting, though. He’s enraptured by every word that leaves the main character’s mouth, so much so that Yuri would be surprised if he forgot she was there. It really seems like he’s in his own little world. Instead, she finds her entertainment in his little gasps of delight, the innocent widening of his eyes, the way his grins of anticipation look as they’re illuminated by the dim light of his laptop screen.

It’s unfair, she thinks, how pretty Yoongi is. Perfect skin and catlike eyes and gummy smiles and he’s not even trying—hell, he doesn’t even have a skincare routine! God really does pick favorites. Yuri absentmindedly brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes, one he’s probably too entranced by the movie to notice. She hums softly at the way he leans into her touch without thinking.

She wonders if anyone is ever going to look at her this way.

There’s no time for her musings to continue when she hears what sounds like someone throwing their guts up in the bathroom. It stops for a moment before continuing, and Jesus, that sounds pretty brutal. She nudges Yoongi with her arm.

“Sounds like someone’s dying in there,” she says. He furrows his brows together in concern.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s not having a good time in the bathroom,” she says. “Did Namjoon undercook the chicken breasts again or what?” As if on cue, the poor guy is retching again, and Yoongi shakes his head.

“Jihoon,” he says, pausing the movie before he stands up and dusts himself off. “He hasn’t been feeling well for a while, now.” Yuri gets up and follows Yoongi when he makes his way towards said bathroom, cringing at the distinct sound of dry heaving as they draw closer. Yoongi knocks on the door before entering, his frown deep-set when he sees Jihoon hunched over the toilet.

“Hey,” Yuri says softly, stepping forward and placing a comforting hand on the small of his back. “Are you okay, buddy?” Yuri and Jihoon aren’t exactly the closest—of all the Big Hit trainees, Namjoon and Yoongi nabbed that spot—but he’s still nice to talk to, always offering to walk her home when it got too late like a good oppa. Seeing him like this breaks her heart.

“‘M fine,” he rasps, despite the pain in his voice telling them all that he is anything but. “Probably just food poisoning. No big deal.”

“Food poisoning for three days?” Yoongi says, obviously in disbelief. “It could be a stomach bug. Or God forbid, appendicitis. You really need to get yourself checked out.”

“It’s fine, hyung. I—” he begins, but the need to heave again cuts him off. Yuri rubs comforting circles into his back some more, unsure of what else to do. She sends a questioning glance Yoongi’s way, who looks just as concerned as she does.

“We’re taking you to the hospital,” he says. Jihoon groans, but doesn’t have the energy to resist.

The drive to the hospital is tense, Yuri filing in the back before Jihoon so he can lay his head against her shoulder and she can make sure he doesn’t throw up anymore. Meanwhile, Yoongi pushing is the edge of the speed limit, eyes darting back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror to make sure that they’re holding up okay in the back. Yuri sends him a reluctant thumbs up.

Yoongi insists that they take Jihoon to the emergency room, where they take Jihoon to the back. As soon as he’s out of eyeshot, Yuri watches with wide eyes as Yoongi takes out his wallet and puts down a hefty payment for the walk-in fee.

“I can pay for it,” she says, shaking her head as she fishes for her wallet in her own jacket pocket. Yoongi smiles, a bittersweet thing, at the unspoken words—she knows how much he’s struggled with money in the past. Even so, he shakes his head, reaching out to tenderly fit his hand into hers.

“There are worse things to spend my money on,” he says. “You can’t really put a price on anyone.”

Something in the way that she sees Yoongi snaps, then, but she has no clue as to what it is. She’s not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or the lateness of the night that makes her think this, but something about him reminds her of the moon, at that moment.

They stay like that the rest of the night, side-by-side in the seats of the hospital waiting room. Yoongi’s lashes flutter dreamily at the way a sleep-deprived Yuri noses against him, softly muttering sweet things against the sensitive skin of his neck and meaning every word.

“Your heart is warm, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi can’t help but notice the way that Yuri’s wrap around him a little bit tighter during their deliveries, these days. More than that, he can’t help but notice how much he likes it.

He’s slowly accepting the fact that this might be a thing that he will have to address in both himself and with the rest of the Big Hit team later. Yuri being her normal touchy self was one thing, but him finding himself enjoying her touch rather than just allowing it was… new. It’s scary and exciting all at once, but mostly the former. For now, while it isn’t a problem, he chooses to ignore it.

He still puts the helmet on her head himself, pulling the buckles tight and making sure it’s fully secure before anything else. He takes extra care with it these days, tender in the way he always does it for her like it’s the first time. He feels like a little kid all over again, the way he cares like this.

It’s easy for him to psyche himself out of things, convincing himself that she’s just being all touchy because that’s how she is, but then she does little things that make him think it isn’t all in his head. Just last month, she gifted him with a black Yamaha helmet, covered with stickers of Kumamon and logos of brands he likes and Scarface, even though he remembers her having a pointed disinterest in the film while they watched it on his bedroom floor.

He never anticipated that he’d actually need it one day.

He doesn’t know how it happens, who went too fast or too slow or turned when they weren’t supposed to. All he remembers is tightening his arms around Yuri as they tumbled off the bike and onto the ground, hoping that she’d be okay.

She always kicked in his protective instinct, being so small and so delicate. The thought of her getting hurt because she wanted to help him out makes him feel impossibly guilty.

Yoongi’s fading in and out of consciousness, vaguely registering Yuri’s voice sobbing into her phone on what seems to be a 1339 call.

“He’s—he’s unconscious,” he hears her sniffle, “Oh my God, he—um, no, no, he has a helmet on. His head is under the car. His body’s sticking out from under it. I just—I don’t wanna move him, ‘cause, oh my God, what if I hurt him? Oh God, what do I do? I don’t know what to—no, ma’am, the street is—um...”

When he wakes up, he’s lying in a hospital bed, groggy and miserable and aching to the joints. He’s in the emergency room, he realizes, the same one he drove Jihoon to only weeks ago. His heart sinks when the doctor informs him that he’s got an incredibly bad shoulder injury—no more boxing, no more basketball, he tells him. It was nearly dislocated, he says, so don’t move too much. Don’t put too much pressure on it. Just relax for a month or so.

This sends him into a full-blown panic. He doesn’t have a month. He’s never been much of a dancer—of everyone, she should probably be practicing the most. This sets him back far behind the others. How is he gonna catch up? How is he gonna make up for that?

As soon as the doctor leaves, the weight of the whole world hits him all at once. He can even feel himself hyperventilating, but is halted by the shock of a gentle hand reaching out to grasp his. When he turns, he sees Yuri sitting on the hospital chair next to him. Lord, he was so out of it he didn’t even realize she was there. She’s got bandages on her legs, but other than that, no major injuries. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” he says, slowly blinking up at her.

“Why did you do that?” she says, voice cracking.

“Huh?”

“You, um, kind of,” she begins, “…broke my fall? You held me. I don’t know. I crushed your shoulder. That’s why it’s all fucked up. Why would you do that?”

“I—I don’t know,” he admits. “I wasn’t thinking. I just felt like it was the thing to do at that moment.” She whines pitifully at his answer, squeezing his hand as tight as she can.

“I just feel like I owe you one,” she says. “Something. Anything. I don’t know.”

The tender part of him tells him to assure her that she has no need to do any such thing. After all, nothing was more important than other people—especially Lim Yuri—but the scared part of him takes over.

“Make me a promise,” he says softly. She leans in to hear him better, nodding as she does so.

“Anything,” she says.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others about this injury. Please.” Yuri furrows her brows and widens her eyes upon hearing this, obviously not expecting that answer. She practically rips her hand from his at that, pulling back from him as if appalled.

“What?!” she says. “Yoongi, no! They have to know about this!”

“They’ll worry. They’ll bench me. They’ll pull me out,” he says. “I promise you, it’s better if they don’t know.”

“What, so they can make you dance and exercise and all that shit with your injured shoulder? If it was sprained, that’d be one thing, but this is a serious problem! You’re only gonna hurt yourself further by not telling them.”

“I don’t care. It’s fine.” Yuri shakes her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she says, sniffling. “How you can care so little about yourself when I—when everyone—cares about you so much.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “It’ll heal. Everything will, alright? I just need you not to tell anyone about it.”

“Of course,” she says, as flatly as she can manage. “I owe you one, after all.” Yoongi knows her well enough to sense the bite in her tone. He rolls his eyes.

“C’mon,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that, then,” she says, pressing her back to the opposite wall of his little hospital room. “It’s just—it’s just so stupid, Yoongi.” She slides down against the wall and onto the floor, looking impossibly small and hopeless in a way that only makes him feel guiltier. “You don’t have to pay anyone back for any of the nice things we do. You think we do all that just to kiss ass, or what?”

“What—no! Of course not.”

“Then why am I keeping this a secret, huh? Tell me that,” she says.

Yoongi pauses for a moment, deep in thought. Every single thought falls upon him, all at once. He thinks of the evaluations next weekend and he thinks about his family back home. He thinks about the money they spent on his trainee contract and he thinks about the amount they’ll have to pay off, regardless of whether or not he debuts. His heart beats wildly in his chest. His head pounds away. His lips press together into a thin line.

“There’s so much at stake,” is all he can offer as an explanation. What else can he say?

“All the more reason to trust us, then, isn’t it?” she says desperately. “Come on. No way anyone would let the company drop you. I’d fight for you, you know that! We’d fight for you. No one else can rap and produce like you. Don’t you remember what Namjoon said? You can debut before him, or he can debut before you, but it’s important that everyone supports each other, always. He’d be here for you, if he knew. He wants to be there for you. We all want to be there for you. You’re so loved. You just have to trust us. You just have to let us in.”

“Sorry I don’t remember every little thing Namjoon says,” he scoffs. “I’m not you.”

“Are you really talking about that right now?!” she bristles. “This is serious, Yoongi!”

“I’m being serious,” he says firmly. “You’re the one bringing up Namjoon while I’m lying in a hospital bed. He’s the leader. He’s the one I’m worried most about. The whole group is built around him. I don’t know if I can trust him not to tell any of the staff about this. If he does—, if anyone does—they have a reason to drop me as a trainee. I can’t let that happen, Yuri.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. He’s talking out of his ass right now. After all, he trusts Namjoon. He likes Namjoon. But the pain in his shoulder and the claustrophobia of the tight little hospital room makes him feel anxious, restless, paranoid. He wants to get up and move and run or do something. But he can’t, so all he can do is project every negative feeling bogging down on him onto other people.

“If you can’t trust Namjoon,” she says softly. “Can’t you at least trust me?”

A beat of silence is her only answer, Yoongi’s lips pressed together into a thin line as he looks away.

“I can’t believe you,” she says, voice cracking. When he hears her begin to sniffle and sob, he has to force himself not to look back at her, guilt and shame bubbling up in his stomach.

He doesn’t even get to see her as she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Yoongi feels incredibly alone.

He really shouldn’t, though—after all, his family comes all the way down from Daegu just to visit him while he’s in the hospital. They bring him all sorts of different foods, agreeing with his complaints that hospital food really, really sucks. After repeated assurances that he’ll heal just fine, they ask him about trainee life, about his food, about his friends. On the third day, they ask why nobody else has visited him. He lies and says that they’re all too busy training, when in reality they don’t even know that he’s here.

The insecure, self-loathing part of himself wonders if they’re even worried.

Rationally, he knows they are, because he misses them, too. They’ve been in such close proximity that it’d be impossible for them not to grow as close as they have in these past months. He chuckles softly whenever he thinks about the way they were so rarely separated, bonding and laughing over situations where Hoseok was using the shower while Donghyuk used the toilet and Namjoon brushed his teeth, all at the same time.

It only makes Yoongi feel worse about the last conversation he had with Yuri, making an ass out of himself over Namjoon of all people. Namjoon who he’s lived with the longest. Namjoon who he gives his shirts to when they come in two sizes too big. Namjoon who he holds so dearly.

He wishes he didn’t have to be apart from everyone for so long to realize what an ass he was being.

It hits him the worst on the sixth day his family visits him and they bring him a cup of a very familiar brand of ₩1200 ramyeon. He saves the little egg brick for last. It tastes bitter in his mouth.

As he reluctantly finishes his water, listening to his brother, Geumjae, and his parents chatter about their dog and their work and the weather in Daegu. Usually, catching up with them felt like a much-needed break, but right now he just feels restless.

He’s been lying in this hospital bed for too long. Listening to nothing but their idle chat for too long. He’s been drifting in and out of sleep so much that he probably wouldn’t even know how many days he’d been in the hospital if his phone didn’t tell him. The repetition of it all ends one day when the nurse informs him that somebody’s coming up to visit, even though his family is already there in the room with him.

After a set of gentle knocks, Lim Yuri appears from behind the hospital door like an angel.

She introduces herself to his family a bit too formally, bowing more than she needs to, like she’s trying to impress them. It’s cute of her. What’s even cuter is the way she blushes and flusters in surprise when they ask if she’s a Big Hit trainee and she waves her arms around as she explains that she’s a producer. She looks nothing like an idol, she says. Geumjae jokes that Yoongi doesn’t look anything like one either. He glares at his brother from the hospital bed.

Yuri looks shy as she tells them something too softly for him to hear, but they nod in understanding and send Yoongi a knowing look as they file out of the door with promises to visit tomorrow. His cheeks flush in embarrassment as he realizes he’s going to have a lot to clarify for them then.

His flush deepens when she sets the plastic bag in her hands on his side table, clambering up the bedside to take a seat beside him. He moves to make space for her, revelling in the way the warm skin of her thigh presses against his arm.

“Did you eat?” she says softly. “I brought you food.”

“Yeah, I ate,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

A beat of silence. She reaches down to grasp his hand, which fits so perfectly into hers. When he squeezes it, she squeezes back. Everything feels like it’s falling back into place where it belongs.

“I didn’t tell anyone, like you said. I told them all that you went back to see your family in Daegu. Said it was a family emergency that you didn’t really wanna talk about,” she says softly. “Told Hitman Bang, too. I think you should be okay if you want to stay here for the next week or so.” He shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll be discharged soon,” he assures her. “Next two days, maybe. It won’t be completely healed, but I’ll just tell them that I fell down the stairs back home or something. I don’t know. Gonna try to play it off as nothing major.”

She hums in reply, squeezing his hand again. He can tell she still disapproves of his secrets, but is willing to keep them if that’s what makes him comfortable. She slides down so she’s laying next to him, legs slotted nicely next to his. He feels a wave of comfort wash over him as she gets touchy with him, like nothing has changed.

Seeing as Yoongi has never been the touchy-feely type, one would think that this would annoy him. To his own surprise, it doesn’t. If anything, he finds himself reveling in her affections. It’s weird even to him, the way he likes her touch so much.

Wordlessly, she starts playing with his hair. She’s always liked his hair, she’s said before, all sleek and smooth—she doesn’t like her own hair and the way they curl at the ends. And he’d frown every time she talked about herself like that because he thinks she’s one of the cutest people he knows.

Not that he could ever tell her that without shrivelling up and dying of embarrassment.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by her wandering fingers, which have moved on from playing with his hair to prod at his ears. The sensitivity makes him cringe, but it isn’t an entirely unpleasant thing. He gasps sharply when her fingernails nip at the shell of his ear in a way that feels like the sensitive skin is being bitten. Mortifying as it is to admit, the goosebumps that rise on his skin stem from a sensation more pleasurable than it is uncomfortable. It feels good. Suddenly, the touches that he once found curious and innocent—childish, even—make his face go hot.

“You have something you’re not saying,” she chides. “You can tell me, you know, if it’ll make you feel better.” He turns in closer to her, close enough that her breath tickles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For saying stupid shit that I didn’t mean. I was jealous and stupid and angry.”

“Apology accepted,” she says immediately, trailing her finger back down from his ear to prod at his bready cheeks. “I’d forgive you even if you didn’t apologize, you know. I missed you too much.”

“I missed you, too.”

She freezes, then. They both do. Yoongi doesn’t even realize what he says until it’s slipped out—it’s probably the most intimate thing he’s said out loud. The closest thing he’s ever said to I love you.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks suddenly. “I just—I know it’s not super romantic to ask, but I don’t just wanna do it without your permission, so—” Yoongi’s face burns a dark crimson as he cuts her off.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Go ahead. Please.” He can’t trust his voice to say much else. His hands are shaking.

When she presses her lips against his, everything feels different.

It’s like every shitty romance movie he’s ever watched has come to life in his bones. Every cheesy metaphor—the sparks flying, the angels singing, the flowers blooming. It’s the way he finally understands why wars have been waged and empires have fallen for a single heart. It’s the way Yuri smells like cherry blossoms and whatever else is in her girly lotions. It’s the way he’s never felt like this before.

It’s different from his first kiss. It feels exactly like Yuri said it should feel. Maybe because it’s her.

And Min Yoongi finally understands why Lim Yuri put so much importance into a single kiss.

Yoongi doesn’t know how long he’s been avoiding her.

It’s not like he immediately iced her out after the kiss. It was a gradual thing, each interaction slowly becoming more and more unbearable. The first time he can recall feeling things start to fall apart was when he made some rude joke that he can’t even remember now. All he can remember is the way she laughed afterwards, so naturally and so easily that he couldn’t help but to think about how everything with her was just easy. Easy to tease, easy to joke with, easy to share secrets with.

That’s how things should be, right?

And then it spirals. Makes him think about his girlfriend from middle school, a smart girl with pretty hair that sat in front of him in class, who began going out with him when he shyly asked her out via letter. He could talk to her normally before, could ask her for pencils and for homework help, but once they began dating he couldn’t even do that much.

It’s weird, the way he acted so differently once romantic expectations were set up. There’d always been this tense aura of awkwardness around them, and he could vaguely tell that it annoyed her, but he was too chicken to do anything about it. He never thought it could happen with Yuri, who he always felt so comfortable, but here he was now.

He feels pathetic, agonizing over this when she’s probably thinking about Namjoon. Even if she does like him back, there’s a clawning fear in his gut that tells him that he’s never going to compare. He wonders how long she’d do that, seesaw herself over to him whenever Namjoon was unavailable. Moreover, he wonders how long he’d let her.

Everytime her little hands found themselves laced in his, the rate at which his thoughts dissipated and his heart melted became laughable. If she asked, he’d probably let her do whatever she wanted with him forever.

The tiny, selfish little devil on his shoulder whispers to Yoongi that he would possibly-maybe-kind-of be more compatible with her than Namjoon. Even without thinking too hard about it, he knows it’s a terrible thought just from the way it makes his stomach churn with guilt.

Namjoon and Yuri have known each other for several years longer than he’s known either of them. He’s nothing more than an interloper in this relationship, and it’s conceited of him to even think he has any kind of chance when he probably isn’t even in the running. The possibility of being in the running scares him more than it excites him, at this point.

So he ices her out.

With how frigid he’s gotten, it should come as no surprise that she wants to hang out more with the trainees at JYP and Source. These days, she’s been over in their dorms more often than she’s been in theirs. He only ever sees her in the studio. Even then, he only speaks to her indifferently, replying to her when it has to do with music and brushing off her attempts at small talk. It reminds him of his interactions with Namjoon back when they first met, tense and awkward and professional.

And speak of the devil.

“Hey,” he hears Namjoon say, his voice deep and distant at his studio door. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly, not even bothering to look up from the song he’s producing on his computer. That changes when Namjoon seats himself on the seat next to his and he can practically feel the air go tense, forcing him to turn and give Namjoon his full attention. The way that his leader, who was a year younger than he was, could command so much authority with his presence alone was both admirable and terrifying.

“You’ve been avoiding Yuri,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows there’s no beating around the bush with this one. Regardless, he pushes his luck.

“I haven’t,” he lies through his teeth. Yoongi has never liked lying about matters of the heart. If it were anybody but Namjoon, he wouldn’t have, but he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Namjoon sighs, obviously in disbelief of the lie. Yoongi doesn’t blame him.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not asking you to tell me what’s wrong, or what happened between you two or whatever. If it was between two members of this group, then I would have to. It’s my job as leader to be responsible for you guys. But whatever is going on between you and Yuri? That’s your business. It’s not my job to keep up with our producers, no matter how much I might want to.”

“But you do want to,” Yoongi clarifies.

“Of course,” he says. “I mean, she’s not just a producer to me. She’s my friend. And so are you. So I’m asking you this as a friend, and not a leader.” Yoongi raises a brow.

“What are you asking?” he says.

“I don’t know. Just don’t be mad at each other anymore. Please.” Namjoon sounds impossibly desperate, hopeless in a way that feels incredibly out of character for him. “I don’t like seeing you guys mad at each other. Remember what Hitman Bang said? It’s okay if you wanna fight or yell or whatever. Just sort it out. I don’t know what she did, or what happened between you, but everyone seems pretty miserable without her around, including you. So please make up soon. Please don’t be mad at her anymore.”

“I’m not mad at her,” he says, and it’s the truth. If anything, he’s mad at himself—but not at her. Never at her. “It’s just… weird. I don’t know. But I’m not mad at her.”

“You think she knows that?” he says, and Yoongi’s heart immediately sinks.

“Probably not,” he admits, suddenly feeling a large wave of guilt wash over him. Now that he thinks about it, she’s probably been blaming herself this whole time. Yoongi’s face burns hot with shame.

“Then you should let her know.”

“Hey, can we talk?”

Yuri practically jumps in her seat, eyes widening like saucers as she whips around upon hearing the voice of Yoongi of all people at the studio door. She hesitates for a moment, but it’s not long before she gets up to let him in. Over the months, he’d gotten harder and harder for her to refuse.

“Okay,” she says as she unlocks the door, letting him into the studio. They’re face to face now, so much so that his incredible closeness reminds her just how much he towers over her. He always said that he was short, but he’s pretty tall to her. It only makes her all the more nervous.

She hasn’t had the opportunity to talk to Yoongi alone like this about something non-music related in months. She can’t beat around the bush with this one—she doesn’t know the next chance she’s going to get to say what she wants, so she has no choice but to say it outright.

“Let’s not fight anymore,” she says, gently dropping her head against his chest. It comes out soft and sad and a thousand times more pathetic-sounding than she’d originally intended. “I won’t kiss you anymore. We can pretend it never happened. Just talk to me again. I miss you.” The way her voice cracks breaks his heart into little pieces.

“We’re not—we’re not fighting, Yuri,” he assures her, stern and gentle all at once. Hesitantly, he brings an arm up around her to rub gentle circles into the small of her back. “We’re… disagreeing.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t be because you kissed me. Why would I be avoiding you because of that? I said that you could, didn’t I?”

“But you are mad,” she says.

“At me,” he clarifies. “Not at you.”

“Why?” she asks. “Yoongi, tell me.” He flushes, feeling incredibly trapped by the way her doe eyes look up at him. Refusing her wishes feels impossible, these days, so he supposes that honesty is the best policy in this case.

“Because I wanted you to kiss me again,” he admits, cheeks burning hot with shame. “Even though everything was fine as it already was.” Yuri blinks slowly at him upon his admission.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I get it,” she says, and despite being forgiven, he can’t help but frown at how understanding she’s being—it’s more than he deserves at this point, if he’s being honest.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s scary.” Words are hard right now.

“I think it’s why I could never say anything,” she continues. “It’s so easy to love someone without them knowing, because you get to live off these happy little fantasies of being together and everything being perfect in your head. I think that’s why being loved back is scary. Because then anything is a possibility. It’s kind of like—it’s kind of like finishing a really good webtoon.” He chuckles softly at the comparison, fondly bumping his nose against hers. “It is! Because then you have nothing left and you’re hit with that post-webtoon depression, because the fun and the fantasies and the excitement are over and then you’re left to deal with the real world. And sometimes the real world means that everything changes, or that even if the person you want loves you back right now, they might change their mind later on. And that’s scary.”

“I still want to be able to talk to you like we used to,” he says. “But I also still want to kiss you. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Kiss me, then,” she says. “We don’t—we don’t have to think about it or talk about it or decide anything. Just kiss me. Please.”

And so he does.

It makes him shiver, the way she seems to shrink when her back presses against the wall, the way she feels so small when he cages her between his arms, the way her tiny hands find purchase against his chest before travelling up to wind behind his neck.

Yoongi can’t find it in himself to be afraid at that moment. He’d kiss Lim Yuri forever, if she let him.

#era.glass #fic.interloper #laruna.conn #laruna.dev #ship. yoonri #writings

33 notes · View notes