#I wanna make more oc content!!! So I can scream about them <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

Web Thinking: Magnolia comes to mind whenever the phrase 'My Eyes' appears in conversation, literature, the errant thought.

[darkeralmond]

→˚₊· 🫐 ੭* APRICOT’S NAVIGATION CENTER

This is my navigation post where I have all the links to my posts on both here and on Wattpad where I write my full fanfictions.

This will not only help you find my works in a more organized manner, but it also helps me with advertising my works and boosting them.

* Means the post includes 18+ content such as…

- gore/violence

- smut

- intense swearing

- overal explicit content

+ Means that it is a story in progress or not started

Thank for reading my work I love you all ❤️

✩*ೃ┆FANFICS

wattpad: darker_almond

posting schedule: every other day!!

⊱┊ INFLUNCERS

Hold Me Closer - Baylen Levine x OC

⊱┊ HOCKEY PLAYERS

One Month - Ethan Edwards x OC

If I Could Fly - Luke Hughes x OC

October - Trevor Zegras x OC +

⊱┊ MOVIES/TV SHOWS

Repeat - Ethan Landry x OC * (Scream 6)

- All these posts are my original work with loose inspiration from either another fic or a movie/TV show. I take credit for the writing & visuals found in my fanfics.

✩*ೃ┆ONE SHOTS

- Unlike the fanfics, I will divide these into specific categories instead of bundling them up since I write a lot of one shots that include fictional characters from TV Shows/Movies

posting schedule: monday-saturday @3:35 PM EST

⊱┊ TSITP

Jeremiah Fisher

Pool Boy *

Hopper’s Cove *

Conrad Fisher

A KISS

WANNA BE YOURS *

Escort?

Dead To Me *

Cam Cameron

First Time *

Black Lace Panties *

⊱┊ UMICH

Luke Hughes

Dance With Me

Luca Fantilli

Beer Pong

Study Session *

Bathing Suit

About You au! *

Mark Estapa

Birthday Surprise *

Sparks Fly

Ethan Edwards

My Dirty Little Secret *

We Can Be Quiet *

Fireworks

Rutger Mcgroarty

Rebellious *

Not So Fake *

Mackie Samoskevich

5 Minutes *

Nolan Moyle

Strawberry Kiwi * pt. 2

Seamus Casey

Attention *

⊱┊ NHL

Brendan Brisson

Good Girl *

Trevor Zegras

New To Anaheim pt 2.

Owen Power

Stay, Stay, Stay

Jack Hughes

Plans & Rewards *

I want to produce content that makes others get inspired to write just like many writers have for me!

Please! if you have any requests for either a fanfic idea or a one shot you would like me to write with one of your favorite character(s), let me know in my ‘requests’ tab .

Currently working on a new project!

Here’s for more information about request

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I vibe with hyperfixating w/ characters. To varying degrees I’ve fixated on: Armin from AOT for a while, 1D had a DEATH GRIP on me for a few years, (SEVEAL book characters through my teen years)I had an Alucard from castlevania fixation for maybe 3 ish years (‘ending’ only recently) and now Hobes lives in my head rent free ngl.

I get the “being sad cuz you can’t meet them” part, I’ve felt it. I try to not daydream TOO much cuz otherwise it takes over my life and I’m doing a considerable effort to live OUT of my own head, but BOI do I LOVE just daydreaming about my blorbos of choice.

I don’t speak too much about it (mostly the daydreaming) cuz to an extent it feels like a “me thing” (like something I don’t wanna share with anyone cuz it’s special to me), but if given the chance I DO info dump on my fixations.

I don’t think it’s cringe, not at all. These things are stuff that helps us process the world and our experiences with it. I believe everyone has sensitive weird shit that they don’t talk about, but if there’s something Ive learned is that we hardly ever have completely unique experiences. Most people just hide their oddness. Fandom being a prime example of how much our blorbos can mean to us. I think it’s okay and normal. (Until it goes overboard and people send idk violent messages to others because they headcanon something differently idk, the unreasonable stuff imo)

Can’t believe our of everything people would dare to make JOY and INTEREST the things with negative connotations. Being mean should be cringe, being a bully should be embarrassing. But unashamedly enjoying stuff?? That’s wonderful.

Anyone too embarrassed of their own vulnerability that they deal with it by making others feel bad about their interests are the most immature out if all of us.

Joy is everything that’s good with the world.

Even just seeing the letter 1D makes me wanna scream (in a good way!!) cause it takes me back to high school lol 1D was a bit older than me so my grade had Mindless Behaviour (does anyone remember them, where they even popular) but I remember the days where 1D was like the definition of summer songs

And I can totally understand the 'me thing'. Like I never really spoke about it but I felt like I knew my daydreams were more substantial or vivid than the 'average person' so to say.

Or when I spoke about characters to other people, I understood that neurotypicals likes characters, but they often didn't see them as fully formed 'persons' in the way I do - as to say, they didn't speculate or see emotional backstory, connections, or their behavior the way I did.

I never really shared any of my daydreams because like - I can't even get into it that's like asking someone to explain Star Wars to someone who doesn't even know space travel exists.

I grew up in a time on the internet where self-inserts and OC were seen as cringe, and someone would be very quick to call out 'Mary-Sue's (or flawless OCs) whenever they could.

It's not like that now - but in juxtaposition to canon x canon shipping, that bias is still there I feel like. Like it, as a work of fandom art has less 'value' that art or fics of canon only characters

It kinda bums me out still.

I think OC and daydreams and self-indulgent inserts are all the best part of fandom because it's the purest way of fans connecting with content on a personal level.

I'm happy that I see more people pushing back on that lately. Like after years of seeing people viciously hate furries when most of them seem like very nice, fun people, it's refreshing for people to be like 'nah, actually this thing is cool. and im gonna spend of time and/or money on this thing cause i makes me happy;

like you remember when the new Star Wars movie trailers came out and that dude reacted to it and he was moved to tears and people made fun of him??

yeah fuck everyone else that dude knows whats up.

Like yes, openly cry to your faves. Fantasize deep meaningful daydreams that help you process your feelings. Draw your OC with them, or learn every single thing their is to know about them.

That's why I wanted to talk about this. Because I've never heard it spoken about before. Maladaptive daydreaming, yes - and that can be harmful. But I hardly ever hear people talk about the basic mundane experience of it - or even how it can enrich our lives and help us emotionally develop of neurodivergent people.

When I think of it that way, it's something that makes me happy. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe it fully, and that's the point. Our stories are private to us, not because theyre embarrassing, but because they're so us that to even describe it would like describing a new world top to bottom

I love it. It's what makes humans humans.

[theriacballad]

Heyo! I'm Dandy, below you can find more information about me, as well as links to my carrd and pronouns page; including some common tags you'll see on my page.

BASICS

I go by a lot of names, of which you can find on my pronouns page, but my main ones are usually displayed in my carrd or my tumblr Bio. Neato!

I am a MINOR. So please, for the love of all things unholy and holy, don't be weird with me. With that being said though, please do not interact with me if you are under the age of 16, you are allowed to interact with my content, as I can't stop you from doing so, but please be respectful of my wishes.

I'm an autistic nonbinary fellow, so tone tags are greatly appreciated; I also suffer from dissociative disorders and other disorders I am not willing to disclose, so please be mindful of that.

I will say slurs I can reclaim, and I will also make KMS and KYS jokes; of which will be tagged incase you do not wish to see those posts. Suggestive posts will also be tagged; SUGGESTIVE POSTS WILL NEVER BE OUTRIGHT NSFW! AS I AM STILL A MINOR!

FANDOMS AND INTERESTS

As of right now, I am heavily hyperfixated on IHNMAIMS, Ultrakill, Jekyll and Hyde, and gothic horror literature in general. My brain chemistry is forever changed by these Victorian aged fools and sopping wet cats and robots; feel free to talk to me about them!

Other content and fandoms you may see on my page consists of: IHNMAIMS, Ultrakill, FNAF, DSAF, TMA, Undertale, TSP, True crime, Scenecore, LSOH, Heathers, Black Christmas, Scream, general horror movies, Chickens, and a lot more! If you wanna tag me in any of this content, feel free to! I love seeing it :] I am a self taught artist and roleplayer, I've been roleplaying for almost a decade now and doing art since I was like. Young. Lmao. I post about my ocs here sometimes, you have probably seen Roman and Rufus, along with Bennie posted here on occasions!

TAGS

General Jekyll and Hyde tags - for anything related to Jekyll and Hyde! Gothic horror/Literature tags - Anything related to the generalized enjoyment of Gothic horror literature and the like :] Meowing on the microphone - For when I spew bullshit out of my maw! Yay! Kitty's arts and crafts - For whenever I post art! JAH Paddock AU - For the AU that I am writing on AO3, posts about it, updates, etc!

OC tags - for any ocs I post !

IHNMAIMS tags - For I have no mouth and I must scream related content

-- Slurs usage - for when a post of mine contains a slur.

-- Suggestive - for when a post of mine can be deemed suggestive.

-- KYS usage - for whenever I use a KYS or KMS joke.

More TBA.

I know this post is pretty long, but hopefully it goes over the general stuff of my page and what's to be expected here. :] Here's my links!

[mcl-alloveragain]

CHALLENGE — Creating OC using a playlist

Hello again!!! Today is something different from my usual content, but @marchiveeee (thank you btw!!!<3) has challenged me to do this and I just love this type of things, so I couldn't resist akajjsjxj

Since this blog is MCL related, let's just pretend this OC is for one of LI lololol

I also had some troubles with choosing a playlist i will shuffle, but since I'm a huge ✨Theathre Kid✨ (and because i was afraid some songs from marchiveeee would repeat itself because i have them on my playlists too ajhshwjs great music taste, honey!!!) i choose my musical playlist :p

So... Yeah, enjoy hahahha

PEROSNALITY / Dear Theodosia — Hamilton

So, this song in general is about how much love the characters have for their kids and when you think about it this way, then our OC can appear <a bit> spoiled. And I think she is, we can make it work, I'm actually pretty spoiled myself so yeah XD But her parents had pretty high expectations of her, too

Someday, someday... You'll blow us all away

We can also make the lyric not about her, but sung by her, then we get more personality traits. Because she's a fighter, she tries her best to make this world a better place. She's an activist, I can see her fighting for gay rights, protecting our environment, she's also for sure feminist and she's just so powerful. And it all comes from the fact how much caring she is. She has so much love for other people, even strangers, and she shows it all the time. She's the mum friend.

We'll bleed and fight for you

We'll make it right for you

And the song itself is quite calm and comforting and those words can also describe her. She is your comfort person, who hugs you, listens to you and kicks ass of people who dared upset you.

JOB / We Got Work To Do — Firebringer

Is she... a..... caveman?!?! 😱

Well, unfortunately not :( But I laughed so much when I saw that song because it's both the best and the worst song I could get for this category.

But I think she's some kind of scientist! Like, this or unemployed because::

I don't really wanna do the work today

Hahha, no but for real, I'm pretty sure she's a scientist. It suits both the song and the fact her parents had high expectations of her. And the song later is about discovering new things, learning about the world.

So many wondrous here for our kind

A world of tools and knowledge left to find

BACKSTORY / You Will Be Found — Dear Evan Hansen

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SONG FOR BACKSTORY OMG OMG I'M LIKE, SO EXCITED AKAJAJJA

It's also a song I usually cry to, even tho it's actually pretty heartwarming.

Have you ever felt like nobody was there?

Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?

Have you ever felt like you could disappear?

Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

We can go with the same plot that is in musical (well, not excatly the same but still) and say that one of her friends commited sui**de. But I don't really feel it, you know? I mean, it would suit her pretty much, but i don't want to make it too easy. I think she herself had problems with her mental health in the past. Maybe because of the pressure, or maybe was she bullied for being too soft? Maybe she befriended someone who was bullied (ekhm KEN) and she got in troubles because of that? Yeah, pretty much. And that was the real reason why she changed school. And in her story, Ken didn't follow her on his own, she made him do it because she didn't want to leave him there alone.

Even when the dark comes crushing through

When you need a friend to carry you

And when you're broken on the ground

You will be found

Anyways, it's all in the past. It made her stronger and even more sensitive for other's pain.

FRIENDS / Raise A Little Hell — Bonnie&Clyde

Okay, now I'm seriously concerned about our little girl.

<I also screamed because i love this song so much>

But okay, it kinda makes sense. She's the "But I can fix him!" kind of girl, so the fact her friends are...... well, the fact that her friends can be defined by this song is not that surprising.

Justice here don't fit the crime

I've been broken by the Devil

Justice is a waste of time

I won't get to heaven

Why not raise a little Hell?

No, seriously, someone needs to kick her ass because she's just, she cannot turn her back to someone who needs help, but sometimes she really SHOULD. I really hope she will find some better friends in future, because the ones she has right now are so gonna ruin her life 🙄

LOVE LIFE / Summer Nights — Grease

HAVE YOU HEARD MY SCREAM?!?! HAVE YOU?!!?! Because I'M GETTING SO LUCKY RIGHT NOW JSJAJANNSNSNA it literally suits her so much!!!

Like, sorry guys, but this time i'll stick with the story showed in musical because IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!! For context, in musical this song is singed by two main leads to their friends, picturing the same relationship from both perspectives and the boys shows off so much, lies and all those, because being in love is unmanly and he's BAD BOY. And when they meet after the song, he acts like nothing happened in between them because of his reputation.

He got friendly holding my hand

Well she got friendly down in the sand

He was sweet, just turned eighteen

Well, she was good, you know what I mean

And my first thought was to match her with HSL Castiel, but no. No, I would make a terrible mistake if i matched her with Cassie.

Because there's a <University> Nathaniel. And it's just so so so so so so....sjjajajjas how come everything makes so much sense so far?!

She and Nath dated in HSL, broke up when she went to study abroad. And when she came back, she met her high school sweetheart completely broken, a literal bad boy, she barely recognised him after all the sweet times they shared together. And of course she, the fighter, the "i can fix him" kind of girl, went for him. It was painful, but after some time they managed to find each other again.

LIVE IN... / Time Warp — The Rocky Horror Picture Show

What the hell.

Yeah, that broke my mind. Like, I have literally no idea how to make it work.

I remember doing the Time Warp

Ughhhhh so I guess I have to go with the context again. It's a party song. But the characters who are singing actually miss their home very much, as it showed at the end of the movie. So I guess she never moved out of her hometown again after she came back from the uni. She loves this place too much (wherever it is. Like, as far as i remember the city from the My Candy Love doesn't really have a name, right?).

But I have no idea tbh. But every single song before was so good for this challenge, I can live with this one being not. Hopefully the next ones will be easier skjajsjsj

CLOTHING STYLE / I know him — Hamilton

The song is sung by the King, so her clothes are probably pretty expensive. I feel like she's pretty basic, but because of her care for environment, she doesn't do fast fashion and buys only from good, expensive, planet-safe brands. The more eco the better. Song is also pretty cheerful and light, I think her clothes are, too. She probably rarely wears dark colours, she prefer white to black and all that.

HOBBIES / Waving Through a Window — Dear Evan Hansen; There! Right There! — Legally Blonde

So her hobbies are waving through a window and finding something there, right there?! Omg!!!!!! Sjajsjjsjaajja

No, all jokes aside, those are also pretty tough too match to something.

Let's start with the first song

I try to speak, but nobody can hear

So I wait around for an answer to appear

While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass

I'm waving through a window, oh

Can anybody see, is anybody waving back at me?

I know I mentioned at least a few times that she's an activist, but this song actually made me think about what would she do to actually help suffering teenagers. 'Cause she would. She hates bullying and she still remember how much her friend, Ken(tin), has suffered because of it. And there are some non profit organisations founded to fight with it, so maybe one of her "hobbies" would be supporting them as much as she can?? It sounds so stupid as a hobby, i know, but like, i cannot really work with that song 😫 it's not even a hobby as it, but still, she fully gives her whole heart to it, you know??? U get my thinking, right?????

Well now that I'm thinking, maybe she just doesn't really have any hobbies, because she's so focused on her job and on helping other that there's a very little time she has left for herself. It's unhealthy, but the more i think about her, the more it makes sense.

Yeah...

And the second song, do not laugh, but I actually almost instantly got one, extremely stupid idea about a "hobby". Well, at least for her favourite tv series. Because this girl actually love court shows. (Fun fact, i didn't know there was a name for that, i just knew two court shows that were extremely popular in my country even tho the acting in them is horrible akjajajz but i googled it and wow, it's actually a thing). But yeah, she has a thing for them... I once had, too, when I was like 6. But I don't judge (hehe, 'judge').

Wjsjsjjsjsks it's too difficult, next time i'll just do this challenge with a normal playlist because sjajsjjdjwjakkqkwbebdbejwiwksjjdjd 😫😫😫😫

We can also be just so random and say she likes hiking in the forest because in the lyrics of 1st song there's a mention of forest, and she likes sport because in the second song there's a mention of sports 🙄🙄🙄🙄 you know what, let's just be random, yeah, i give up.

When you're falling in a forest

---

They play peculiar sports

In shiny shirts and tiny shorts

Hope you're satisfied. (i'll never be 😫)

——————————

Now that I have all the data I can choose a name for her. She could just stay Candy, it suits her, but she also gives me a "M name" kind of vibe, like Melody (IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY IF SHE WAS A MELODY TOO SINCE SHE'S WITH NATH THO XDDD) or Maisie. Yeah, Maisie is great.

Maisie Bonnet, I would say. Well, I'm so sorry, Maisie, but I already have one OC for Nath, so I don't think I will ever write anything about you... Well, my oc for Nath does not break up with him tho, so maybe someday, if i get to write and university smut or something like that....... we'll see ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

-----------------

Anyway, I had so much fun I definitely try to do it sometime again!!! Thank you again, Mar!!! ❤️❤️ And I also thank everyone who even read the whole thing :")

And since i was challenged, i want to challenge someone, too!

I CHALLENGE:

@allyymcl hi :p of course you don't have to do it if you don't want to 👉🏻👈🏻 but i would really like to see your oc and which one of LI would they suit the best🥺

[oswaldsleftbicep]

first, i’d like to say happy birthday! may all your dreams come true <3 i really hate myself for being so late into this amazing fandom but also really happy that you’re still writing about the game, it was so hard to find one who is still active so thank you so much for doing the amazing work ily for that T^T but aside from that, i wanna join your game hehe but i don’t want to describe myself irl so i just describe myself that i imagined when i played the game if that’s okay to you (also sorry for the long ass paragraph, i got carried away) :D

my character has short hair, i would describe it as a short wolf cut style, and her hair color is black. her clothing style is more into masculine but when she wears it, it still looks feminine to her no matter what? i’m sorry i’m really bad at explaining stuff. her usual type of outfit is a baggy t-shirt with shorts. her choice of outfit and her personality are so much different since she’s actually a soft spoken girl. i imagined her having 6 brothers and only 1 sister so of course, she will be more likely to follow her brother's behaviour but more into the soft spoken side. she’s also the youngest and very polite to her siblings since her culture is VERY strict about respecting people who are older than them even if it's only a one year gap. her star sign is gemini (but oh boy she sure doesn’t act like one)

for hobbies, she enjoys baking! cookies, cake and bread? she loves them so much. but she only does them when she’s in the mood, if you’re asking her when she isn’t in her baking mood, sorry she’ll reject you. another thing that she likes to do is go for a jog every evening, she is not a morning person nor a night person. she doesn’t enjoy waking up early and she doesn’t like it when she needs to stay up late (even if it’s only 11PM)

she likes to eat, and the food that she enjoys the most without feeling bored even if she needs to eat them every single day is a chicken, it doesn’t matter if it’s fried or seasoned, she enjoys every one of them. for dislikes, she just hates doing chores. it’s funny for me because i think almost all of the route in the game is the mc being a servant for the boys.

she had never been in a relationship so she’s quite confused with the thoughts of having someone important in her life. i think one of her love languages would definitely be spending time with her loves one, like going on a cute picnic (she doesn’t like loud places like going to a concert or shit because what’s the point of going on a date when all you can hear is people screaming) she would definitely enjoy having a deep conversation with her partner, and talking about the future. she doesn’t enjoy skinship that much, it’s because she’s not used to someone casually cuddling or clinging to her. so for skinship, maybe just holding hands or a quick hug! (also because this bitch got embarrassed so quickly and she got really flustered when it comes to pda or something)

that’s it :o i’m only using what you’ve said on your post. sorry if there’s a mistake. english is not my first language T^T and sorry if it’s long! have a fantastic day <3

i love that you described your oc, it was so fun reading about her!! i'm happy to hear that you're into this fandom and enjoy my writing, it's stuff like that that gives me the motivation to write and keeps my love for the characters going :,) i've always believed that every fandom deserves content and if you can't find the content you're looking for then make it! also i'm still going to be referring to your oc in the second person cuz it's what i'm used to. so without further ado,

i ship you with....

Noel!

❧ your style is kinda similar to his in a way, like you dress masculine but still have that feminine edge whereas he dresses kinda feminine but still has a masculine edge. if you're comfortable with the idea, i feel that the two of you could pull off sharing each other's clothes

❧ he appreciates that you're soft spoken and polite and not loud like ricardo or insensitive like mikael. your respect for those older than you is something he's curious about as he just kinda treats everyone the same regardless of their age or status, so he'll probably inquire about your culture and why respecting elders is as important as it is; his questioning is all out of genuine curiousness tho, he just wants to learn more about you and values that are different from his own

❧ he's lowkey jealous about your big family, especially since it sounds so loving and unlike the families he grew up with. nevertheless he'll let you talk all you want about your siblings, wanting to know all he can about how you grew up. if he's in your own world, please take him to meet your family; he may be shy around them at first but he'd love the idea of being included in such a big, loving family

❧ noel's a sagittarius, and sags are pretty compatible with geminis; both signs are mutable which means there's a lot of flexibility with the two of you so y'all's relationship should get along fine without major quarrels. sag is a fire sign and gemini is an air sign which is great bc an air and fire relationship is heavy in support :)

❧ we already know noel loves food, and i feel like he'd have a pretty big sweet tooth as well, so he loves it when you bake. he's your taste tester for everything you make and he'll eat all of the finished product no matter how you think it comes out. you may have to end up hiding what you make from him if you intend on sharing it with others. he won't openly gorge out on your foods like a glutton, but he will eat all of what's in front of him, and if he happens to like it a lot, he'll sneak more of it later on lol. he won't openly ask you to make things for him, his requests are masked as suggestions like "you should make those cookies again" or "i think mikael would like that pie for his next gala"

❧ he's pretty indifferent about you going for jogs every evening, it's just something you like to do and he supports that. if you want him to join you or if you mention you'll be jogging somewhere away from the castle he'll come with you without hesitation. he's got excellent stamina and can keep up with you no problem, although the way he never seems to break a sweat irks you sometimes lmao

❧ he's a very easy sleeper in that he can fall asleep anytime anywhere no problem and his internal clock wakes him up when he needs to get up, it's amazing and i'm jealous. so he adapts to your sleeping schedule easily, like if falling asleep together is something you like then he'll come to bed with you even if it's earlier than he's used to. he does tend to wake up early no matter what, but if he wakes up before you he'll spend that extra time making sure the end of your sleep is comfortable, and he also takes time to memorize the details of your face and admire how peaceful and sweet you look. if he has something to do in the morning that requires his immediate attention, he'll get up and ready as quickly and quietly as possible so as not to disturb you, and before he leaves he'll write a quick note explaining where he is and he'll carefully brush the hair away from your face, gently caressing your cheek

❧ like i said, mans loves his food, and he'll eat whatever you make for him, so he'll have no complaints whatsoever if you make chicken for a week straight. in fact he thinks it's amazing that you can prepare the meat in so many different ways. he has a hard time picking a favorite, but i think he'd like grilled chicken the best, kinda like how cracker barrel makes their grilled chicken, it's seasoned just enough and it's so juicy and kinda marinated in a little sauce

❧ he's not much of a fan of doing chores either, i mean his room is pretty messy after all, but y'all also realize that it's something that has to be done, so i could see the two of you dividing the chores into little bits throughout the week or even the month so it's less to deal with. you'll assign each other with tasks to do, whether it's changing the sheets or gathering all the trash to be thrown out, whatever it is you decide to do it's just a little system that the two of you created to make doing boring chores more bearable

❧ noel's never had someone to be this close with either, and while this can make things tricky, i think it would be good for the two of you to figure those new feelings out together, like the cute first love trope. since it's all new for him as well, and since he struggles with emotions in general, he won't be as quick to jump into the physical contact part of relationships. he'll focus primarily on learning more about you and navigating how relationships work

❧ he'd probably turn to ricardo for date ideas before promptly deciding that's a horrible idea and turning to ask mikael who is much more lowkey and suggests some pretty good date options. common dates for the two of you would be trying new recipes, taking walks, going into town to browse little shops and eat at cute cafes, and spending an afternoon outside for a picnic and to watch the sunset

❧ noel needs a lot of practice figuring out his feelings and how to voice his thoughts so having someone that likes to have deep conversations is good practice for him; it'll get him to get used to voicing his opinions and thinking more abstractly about the future and what if scenarios. he finds it a bit scary at first but eventually he finds comfort in the fact that he can be vulnerable around you like this, just being in each others' presence and sharing whatever comes to mind

❧ again, physical touch isn't really one of his love languages. like sure, it's nice, but he doesn't crave it, so you don't have to worry about him getting too clingy or getting you all flustered with pda. it'd probably take him super long for him to even hold your hand, and anything he decides to initiate he'll save for when it's only the two of you; he wouldn't try any physical contact around anyone else until much, much later in y'all's relationship

❧ so pretty much i chose noel because i could see the similarities between the two of you and because i feel y'all could really help each other grow and become more open and comfortable, and you would support each other through the whole process. it's just a sweet, chill relationship y'all have <3

[fangirlishing]

just for a laugh

fred weasley x fem!reader/oc extract from my fic just for a laugh

word count: 4k

content warning: 18+ ONLY; nsfw smut; unprotected sex; kissing; dom/sub vibe but they’re also switches; praise kink; begging;  teasing/a little derogatory fun; nipple play; penetration; its their first time <3; fingering; blowjob; this is just pure filth.

I pulled Fred down into me, showing him that I was here for him. With this action cementing my permission, he wasted no time in easily picking me up by my waist. I jumped on instinct, coiling my legs around his toned torso. Our lips remained tangled in a mess of emotions as Fred slowly walked us over to Percy’s bed.

He practically threw me down into the plush mattress and I released a nervous giggle as I bounced lightly upon my landing. Fred, however, wasted no time joking around as he crawled on top of me and brought our lips together again.

In this new position, his thigh pressed greedily into my core, shocking me back into a state of delirious pleasure. Laughter wiped from my face to be replaced with thundering desire.

I tried to control the urges that were building up inside of me but, as his hands snaked under my shirt, I knew it was a futile goal. I moaned pleasurably, the sound muffled by his mouth which openly kissed mine.

A filthy smirk coated his lips as he trailed his fingers further up my chest. My breath hitched slightly as his calloused touch inched close to my breasts and my body reacted on instinct, rolling upwards into his strong hands with pleasure. My body and mind working together in tandem as both craved more from him.

His lips detached smoothly from mine as he whispered close to my ear, “you wanna take this off for me?” His hot breath set my neck ablaze and I almost let a moan spring free at such intimacy.

My eyes were wide but maintained my feverish desire to please him as they became darkened with a lust deep enough to match his. Without thinking, I pulled the pyjama shirt over my head and chucked it across the room.

For the first time, Fred looked upon my naked torso. I writhed a little at his analytical gaze, even his eyes on me was enough to send me toppling under waves of pleasure. On some level, he knew I'd left myself naked for him. I'd hardly admit it to his face, but, his joking seduction at dinner had coerced me into leaving myself completely naked underneath my pyjamas as I hoped, a little romantically, that he might finally act upon the tension building between us for weeks.

“Good girl,” he hummed filthily, drawing me up by my neck to reconnect our lips as a frenzied reward.

As our lips entangled, his hands returned to my bare skin which glistened for him under the moonlight peeking through the dark we were engrossed within. I began to whine upon his lips as his fingers purposefully avoided the places he knew I needed him most, thrusting my chest into his touch to show my impatience.

With such a display, he bit my lip painfully, dragging it out teasingly as his sultry eyes met mine before letting my lip snap back into place.

“Do you need something, darling?” He asked innocently, but his eyes challenged me as they smirked whilst looking upon the lustful cracks his taunting fingers caused to spread across my skin.

I whined softly, hoping no one could hear me as pleading begs fell from my lips almost as if magically coaxed out by Fred. I wouldn't put it past him but I knew I was under my own spell, enchanted by the red-headed treat towering over me.

He cast a wordless charm around the room before he spoke again, “you want me that badly?” He snickered, eyes still focused on assessing my body as if it was a half unwrapped gift ready for his final, jarring tears to whisk away the wrapping that contained me.

All I could muster was a nod as his fingers tantalisingly stroked down my sides, “dirty girl,” he chuckled teasingly in my ear before placing his open lips on the hidden hickeys that dotted my neck and chest, courteously of our moments of previous frenzied pleasure at Hogwarts.

He bit a few of them, laughing more as he watched me jolt with pleasure. It felt wrong to hear Fred talk to me in such a way - like this was all just some fantasy I’d cooked up in my dreams but, as I felt his tongue drag across my skin, I knew how real this was and I could no longer deny the pleasure that shuddered up my spine.

My hand slid into his hair instinctively, gripping it softly as he travelled his way down my body. I relished at how close we were, I could almost feel his heartbeat racing alongside mine as his strong beater figure pressed against my perky, bare chest.

“How much have you imagined this, darling?” He quipped, drawing himself back up to drown me in another of his captivating kisses as I whined in his mouth.

“Too much,” I gasped, opening my eyes to watch him smirk down at me, “probably every night.”

He moved close to my mouth again, hovering over it as he whispered, “what do we do in your head?” His voice screamed control but it wavered as he, too, struggled with his pleasures.

I felt it grow below, undulating into my still clothed skin to remind me that I was not alone in this longing. We had indulged ourselves too quickly for Fred's liking and, so, he drew us out longer with such questions. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the conversation we were due for as long as possible but, with his hardness pulsing into my thigh, rubbing slightly, I didn't care.

I flushed excessively in the dark room, distracted by my racing thoughts. He chuckled throatily in my ear before kissing my neck once more. “Is it that dirty, love? So bad you can’t even tell me? I promise it’ll stay between us,” he pressed a soft kiss upon my lips, staring me down as he regained control, knowing that I was fully encased under him.

“Its…” my thoughts were interrupted as he tweaked one of my nipples teasingly, I glared down his innocent disguise as I continued, “it’s embarrassing.”

He laughed again, kissing the centre of my chest, right between my breasts which heaved with desire, “that’s cute, love. How ‘bout you tell me one thing we’ve done in your head and I’ll tell you something I’ve thought about in return?”

“You-you’ve-?” I stammered, causing him to smile more.

“Of course, but I won’t say anything until you speak up.”

A lump formed in my throat as I sifted through all the fantasies my brain had conjured throughout my infatuation with Fred. Some were innocent - like going on picnics or wading through a pond and splashing each other with water whilst we laughed - but some were disgustingly perverse. Some I could hardly voice to him because I knew they would grant him much too power over my body and mind.

“One time I-“ I began, clearing my throat before I darted my eyes away from him as embarrassment roared through my veins, “I imagined you rewarding me for doing well on an essay,” I mumbled, turning my face fully away from him and shutting my eyes so I didn’t have to watch his provocative gaze as I lay my mind bare alongside my body for him.

His mouth came to hover next to my ear, “and how exactly did I reward you?” A sly kiss was placed just behind my ear which curled my toes and fluttered my breath.

I whimpered, unable to utter the words to him.

“Alright, darling,” I could hear him smile softly, leaving behind our game for a moment, he continued, “no pressure, I promise,” his hands rest comfortably along my sides, “how can I make you feel better, you look like you’re about to combust.”

He altered his position slightly, no longer hovering over me and trapping me under his presence. His muscled thigh remained in place, pressing on my anguished core, but he allowed himself to sit up, releasing me from the invisible chains his dominance wracked over me.

“Tell me about what you’ve imagined,” I whispered, drawing my hands up his chest to grip softly at the loose fabric of his shirt, slowly pulling him back down over me to reinforce my comfort with his controlling presence. To show him I needed him there just as much as he needed me.

“Hard to pick just one, love,” he uttered causing me to let out a chuckle that sent a wave of relaxation hurtling through me.

“I suppose there is one fantasy I keep revisiting,” he trailed off and I looked upon him with anticipation and he was more than willing to satisfy my cravings, “you’re studying hard in the library and I whisk you away to the restricted section and give you a much-needed break.”

My breath hitched slightly, “what do we do on this break?” I asked innocently as Fred’s fingers trailed down my stomach absentmindedly.

“Do you want to have a guess, darling? Or should I just tell you?”

His hands rest at the waistband to my pyjama bottoms as I gasped, allowing two words, “tell me,” to fall from my lips in a breathy respite.

Dragging his fingers across the band he hummed, “I lie you down on one of the tables,” he lifted my waistband, “and I tell you that I want you to do one thing,” I felt his fingers hover over my dripping slit, teasing me both subconsciously and physically as I squirmed slightly. I tried to ignore the surprised look of pleasure that fleetingly appeared on his face when he discovered no trace of underwear on me.

“Wh-what did you tell me?” I asked, anticipation getting the better of me as his fingers worked fire into my veins.

“I wanted you to beg to cum for me,” he stated simply, plunging a finger inside of me to coax out a desperate moan from my throat.

He was drunk on the power he wielded over me, looking down at my lustful expression and relishing in knowing that he was the one causing it. His cocky attitude taunted me, smirking upon me while I uttered profanities as I delved deeper into my pleasure, my brain conjuring up images of being bent over that library table and how Fred, I knew, would feast upon my body.

He coiled his thrusting finger inside of me, pushing against my pleasure point and dragging me further into a state of ecstasy. Delirious from the pleasure, I began to grind along with him as I craved more of his touch. More of him, whatever he decided to give me I would lap up like a dog. With this movement from me, he slid his finger out, denying me the pleasure I had become captivated under.

He began to stroke a set of his fingers up and down my slick entrance, breathing a laugh when I jolted as his fingers struck my bundle of nerves.

You’re so desperate for this, aren’t you?” He whispered into my ear and I pathetically whimpered a reply before crying out in shock as he suddenly slammed three fingers inside of me, chuckling in my ear at my loud response which he knew he'd get once he left me distracted with his slippery, seductive words. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he bit my ear playfully as he thrust faster, drawing more sounds of desperation from me.

His wicked eyes met mine and I knew exactly what I wanted him to know, it was something I’d whispered to myself late at night when giving myself a release and, admittedly, something I wanted to say to him.

“I wanna cum for you, Freddie,” I whined, gasping as his fingers plunged far deeper inside of me, engulfing me in pleasure as a response to the filth my lips divulged.

He hummed musically, “you’re perfect,” his lips softly slid over mine, passionately reaching into my senses as his fingers continued to drive me closer to my edge.

“Freddie,” I gasped through the kiss, heavily breathing before his lips returned to mine, “I need you now… Will you- I mean, would you want to-?” I cut myself off, feeling awkwardly vulnerable.

He detached from me only to gaze upon me with a genuine smile, “of course, only if you’re sure,” he pecked my lips again, reassuring me before we went too far.

I nodded, eyes glistening with uncontrolled affection. At this moment, I didn’t care how far we went and what that meant for us - I felt an animalistic urge surge deep within me that craved him in his entirety, no matter the consequences.

His fingers left me with a swift moment and I felt an emptiness I knew would soon be satisfied as Fred threw his sweater across the room. My hands ran over his muscled back, pulling him down for another kiss as a hungry, lustful ball settled uncomfortably in my stomach at the sight of him, it begged for its obscene desires to be quenched. He detached again to focus on slipping his pyjama pants off and I followed suit, leaving us both vulnerably naked for the first time.

I looked upon his hard member that had teased me thus far, my breath catching as reality settled upon my shoulders. Of course, I was a little fearful for my first time with Fred, but, as I met his kind eyes, I knew it was all going to be okay. That it wasn't going to be like the sex I once knew.

“You ready?” He asked, his soft tone relaxing my breathing.

“Merlin, yes,” I breathed and he chuckled over my lips, passionately kissing me once again. His open mouth moved leisurely over mine, short gasps interrupting our entanglement once he began touching himself for the first time since we’d begun. He'd held out so long to focus on my pleasure and, as I watched him succumb, it only enhanced my drive.

“Godric, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard,” he groaned, wincing with satisfaction as he stroked himself languidly.

“Let me,” I whispered, spitting into my hand and bringing it to stroke alongside him.

I watched as his hand fell lack, his eyes rolling back into his head as I continued my slackened strokes. He gave himself over to the pleasure, staggered breath holding back his desire to loudly groan as he fell under my seductive spell.

“Freddie?” I whispered, earning a dazed, mumbled acknowledgement as if he was both here and not, “get on your back for me.”

He obeyed immediately and without question, running a hand over his face as his mouth hung open in silent exertion.

Smirking, I brought my face closer to his length. My lips kissed his tip softly, evoking a drawn-out sizzled moan to fall loosely from his mouth. I slowly tested the waters, letting the salty taste of him coat my tongue before I plunged his hardness to the back of my throat. His gasping groan finally freed itself from his restrained voice as his fingers clutched my hair, guiding me up and down.

I pushed myself as far as I could go for his pleasure, the feeling of him hitting the back of my throat only stirring me on to be the best he’d ever had.

His breathing became more ragged as he submerged himself under my control, his grip relinquishing as he relished in the feeling of my tongue swirling around him, wanking him off with my lips.

“Love,” he strained through his teeth and I detached my lips, leaving a trail of spit attaching me to his member, “as much as I want my cum to drip from your lips, I’d like to be inside you much more.”

A smile spread across my face, “where would you like me then, Weasley?” A brave power had fallen upon me when I had him under my control but, now, I felt it would slip away from me once Fred's skilled mouth centred on me.

Taking control he wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us over fluidly before he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face quickly. He dragged his thumb over my lips, a lingering touch to show how much he missed them upon him, before dipping his lips toward me. I readied myself to receive another of his long, emotive kisses but found his lips resting next to my ear to whisper a vulgar command, “you better get ready to beg.”

Without warning, he plunged himself into me. Our shared groans filled the air as we finally satisfied our deepest cravings. He rested one hand on my waist and the other reached over me to grip the headboard tightly.

Fred restrained from moving for a few moments to give us time to get used to the new feeling of each other, pulsing in unison from the sheer shock. I yelped once he began to move, causing him to pause a moment before I beckoned him to continue as I assured him it wasn't pain but pleasure that was rocking through my body.

He began to sloppily thrust inside of me, our inexperience shining bright but neither of us cared as we became wrapped in a euphoric cocoon. With every jolt of himself inside of me, he moaned at the sensation and I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming as I relished in the feeling of finally being full by someone I cared deeply for.

“Let me hear you,” Fred panted in my ear, moving both his hands to now rest on my waist to draw me further down onto him, sliding me up and down over and over.

I uncovered my mouth, “fucking he-ll, Fred,” I quipped, stammering as he quickened his pace. I allowed my body to fall under his control, my breasts bouncing as the mattress squeaked underneath us.

He felt so right inside of me and my body became consumed under his pleasurable grasp. His hands squeezed tighter and tighter around my waist, guiding my movements as he slid into me. For every impulsive, too-tight squeeze he littered across my body came the soft brushes of his fingers to ease the small spikes of pain he’d unintentionally brought upon me.

Soon, this pain turned to pleasure as he wrecked my warm core. His length charged hard and fast inside of me, so much so that I could barely keep up. I lost myself in his strokes, whimpering soft moans as my slack body allowed him to have his way with me. The soft slaps of our skin violently intersecting spread throughout the room and it started to drive me insane with animalistic pleasure.

Consumed by thoughts of him and a yearning for his length that slammed so hastily inside of me, my thoughts became hazy as they obsessed over Fred.

His name became a chant, dripping from my lips easier than breathing. I wanted him to hear my complete desire for him more than anything else. What had begun as a whisper, almost like a silent prayer, became a lewd, rhythmic reminder of who was giving me the pleasure I’d craved for so long. Longer than he knew.

Every time his name fell from my lips, his breathing staggered almost with disbelief that this was real - that he was hearing such vulgarity fall from the mouth of someone who, for many years, had been so reserved and shy.

It urged him on, too, the knowledge that my entire being had become fully dominated by him in body and soul, and caused him to show his appreciation for my devotion by slamming hard into me.

“Fu-uck,” he stammered, more profanities falling from his lips as our joint pleasure built more and more.

Lost under his control and the steady, rhythmic pumps of his cock inside of me left me little room to think of anything else. My entire being ached for him - craved his pleasure, wanted to show him how desperate I was. How desperate he made me.

My wet mouth came to absentmindedly swirl around my fingers, my lips hungrily coated in saliva. Moaning Fred’s name again, my fingers left my lips and quickly trailed down to my clit, beginning to steadily play with it to overwhelm myself with greater pleasure.

I perked for a moment at the new sensation but I quickly submitted as I felt intense waves of sensuality jolt through me. My stomach fluttered as, with Fred working in unison with my own fingers, I became overwhelmed with carnality and it transformed the ball in my lower stomach into a burning hot pit which grew with each flick I gratified myself with.

Fred’s breathing, matching mine, became staggered now as he filthily pumped himself into me, “I-Merlin, I’m close, love,” he groaned, straining as he held himself back from the edge we both climbed towards.

“I-I wanna feel you, Freddie,” I begged, “deep inside, I wanna feel you there.”

He smirked, his spare hand stroking down my neck to my chest and, for an agonising minute, all I wanted him to do was wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze.

“Keep going,” he begged, pinching my erect nipple, grimacing as he held himself back from spilling too quickly over the edge.

I hissed as he pinched me hard before I whispered airy begs for his cum to fill the empty, burning chasm inside of me.

I almost choked on my breath as he slammed hard and slow into me, dragging it out further as he chuckled to himself; but it was obvious the thread he hung onto was loose and weakened under our intense passion.

He gritted his teeth with every elongated stroke as he held himself back, I hardly knew how he was handling this, “you’re so worked up all over me, such a little whore,” the venomous words dripped from his tongue easily as if he'd said them about me before in his fantasies.

Slamming into me again, he chuckled at my whimpers, “such an innocent little girl coming awfully undone - would you like to show me how you cum for me? I can tell you’ve done it for me before... I even heard you a couple of those times.”

I unlatched my eyes from his gaze, embarrassed at admitting what he already knew. Shying away from the desperation I craved, needed, in this moment.

His lips dropped, whispering seductively to me, “beg for it, darling. Beg for me.”

My wild, innocent eyes met his hedonistic, darkened ones and I knew then that I was dangerously enraptured under his spell.

It all came to a head, the feeling of being so full driving me so wild that it caused the heat spewing inside of me to bubble over. I didn't care if it made me weak, I wanted him to know that this weakness was all because of him.

I shamelessly began to beg, words falling from my lips quicker than I could control them, “I-I want you to show me what I do to you, wanna feel full of you. Please, Freddie,” I strained harder now, “please I need you. I-I-I,” I could barely hold myself back as his length slid so fluidly inside of me.

He angrily slammed himself as quick as he could inside of me and my eyes rolled back into my head as he pounded quickly.

“Such a good girl, fuck! Scream my name, love… scream it as you cum,” he stammered, finally releasing himself inside of me as pleasure undulated between us.

Overwhelmed with how this new sensation felt, I followed suit as I shrieked his name, my walls pulsating around his length which remained buried inside me as we both came down from our highs.

He remained inside of me as we both attempted to regulate our breathing. It was silent between us, only our ragged breaths and the sweet cream leaking from me remained as a memory of what had just happened.

[darkorderaf]

125,26 drabble (if possible smut) with OC🍊

Ty if you do this i love your works ♥️

Ooooh, yes! Thank you so much for the kind words. <3 I did indeed make it spicy; hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Orange Cassidy x OFC. Prompts: “Save some for me.” “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smut! Word Count: 1,981.

(I don’t own gif; credit to hanakimura!)

Sharing a room with Orange Cassidy was relatively uneventful. He functioned off of keeping it casual, taking it easy. And she did too, for the most part. Her and Cass had always been close, even from the early days. She would go so far as to call him one of her best friends and he would just nod if he ever got asked about it.

She didn’t know when the change happened, when her completely platonic thoughts shifted to something decidedly not in the same lane. Or area code.

Maybe it was the time the both of them had way more shots than they should have and they shared the same bed. Completely platonically, of course, but they had never shared a bed before then. When she woke up the following morning, hungover and mouth dry as a desert, she felt him stir under her. His skin was against hers, the lean muscle of him both relaxed yet firm. His hand on her hip.

Her leg had been tossed over his trim waist, her head comfortably in the crook of his shoulder. She didn’t know what to do. Both of them slept in their underwear regularly and they had seen each before in just that, it wasn’t weird. They were just that comfortable with each other. But this was...different. All she could do was stare at him in quiet horror. Horror that dissipated into a heat-driven appreciation as she looked at him. The v of his slim hips, the defined muscles that contracted with each breath, the perfect stubble that framed his perfect mouth. She wondered at how he felt against her and under her, then wondered about him maybe even on top of--

She had pulled away from the proverbial stovetop that was Orange Cassidy and fled to the bathroom.

Oh no.

Her best friend was hot.

They never talked about it. Ever since then, she tried to keep it casual. Take it easy. Tried to ignore the way her heart raced at the sight of him or how she had to press her thighs tight together when she stood outside the ring, being the supportive best friend that she was. They still shared a room and they kept their separate beds. That worked just fine, just what they were used to. She chalked it up to a brief wave of hormones and that was it. She was totally fine and totally not thirsting after her best friend.

Jokes on her, her brain had different plans.

Not but a day later, the dreams started.

The ones where Orange pulled her in the ring and taught her a different kind of submission. Or showed her how to turn it back around on him. The ones where he caught her pleasuring herself and told her “save some for me” before he took her slick fingers into his mouth like it was the easiest thing. The ones where they fit together so well, she woke up with her toes curled and a silent scream of pleasure in her throat. The ones where he slipped his sunglasses onto her as she rode him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched her breasts bounce.

All they were were dreams and when she woke up, she took care of herself in the shower and did her best to shove it to the farthest corner of her brain. It was entirely inappropriate and he was her best friend and he totally didn’t see her that way. She pushed the way that made her heart inexplicably clench and ache to the back of her mind too.

A squeaky hotel bed frame narced on her.

She was in a deep sleep, her mind back in that dreamscape where she opened up for Orange and he murmured to her. Murmured to her how good she felt, how he could feel her squeezing him when he fucked into her just right. How they should have done this ages ago and she moaned in agreement.

Orange was a heavy sleeper. Everyone knew that. But it could take him longer than the average bear to fall asleep. Especially when he listened to the way his best friend thrashed in the opposite bed and the bedframe wouldn’t stop squeaking. Was it a nightmare? She seemed to be having a lot of those lately. Sometimes he heard his name. His dreams were getting more intense too. He never asked about hers and never brought up his. Maybe he should have.

He rolled onto his side to look at her. Her sheets were halfway down her body and sweat made her shirt cling to her torso. He ignored the way he could make out the silhouette of her hard nipples, instead focused on the way she breathed and how her face contorted. Tried to ignore the way he could feel himself getting hard just at the sight of her so breathless.

He didn’t know when that had started. Maybe when she pressed herself right against him that night they got too drunk and mouthed sleepily against his neck that she loved him, that he was her best friend and she was so lucky to have him for a best friend. Pressed against him so tight he could feel all of her. He didn’t look at her like a best friend when the morning light started to bleed into their room. He felt awful for it and when she shot out of the bed in the morning, he thought he might be able to breathe easier about it. It was just a one-off flash of hormones.

Who was he kidding?

“Hey,” he called. She didn’t respond. He shoved the sheets off his body and threw his legs over the side. Maybe they could switch beds or he could talk her out of her nightmare. He stood up with a sigh and crossed the small space between their beds. His hand hovered over her bare shoulder. “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Cass…”

The sound of her heated, desperate voice shot straight to his groin and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Right here. You’re loud. Are you ok--” He paused when his eyes ran over her body. Traced the path of her arm under her sheets and the movement that disturbed the sheets over her. Hear the sound of slick as she worked herself. Heard the way she begged him please. Oh fuck. “Wait...Are you...What?!”

His hand went to her shoulder, squeezed it, and that snapped her out of her trance. That and his raspy panic. They stared at each other in the dim light of the hotel room, their eyes wide and chests heaving. She slipped her hand out from under the blanket and he nearly groaned at the sound of her panty’s elastic waistband snapping against her skin. The dim light caught the slick on her fingers and they continued to stare at each other.

She wanted to vanish. Maybe call Freddy Krueger to pull her through the mattress and murder her because fuck, how were they going to get past this?

“Cass, I’m so sorry,” she fumbled out, unsure of what to do with her hand or the brink of orgasm she was quickly pulling away from. Her eyes burned in embarrassment and frustration. He knew. He totally fucking knew. “I can get a different room and we can just avoid each oth--’

“I have them too,” he said, far more calm than she was. She blinked at him. “Wet dreams.”

“Cass, this is different. This is weird and gross and god, how can you look at me?”

“About you,” he sat down and the mattress squeaked. His desperate, breathy, frustrated tone froze her. “They’re about you.”

In a moment of panic, she tried to wipe her hand off on her shirt but Orange’s long fingers around her wrist made her pause. He muttered don’t and leaned forward. Didn’t break eye contact with her as his lips hovered over her skin.

“Can I taste you?”

His question burned straight through to her pussy and she clenched her thighs. His words stunned her. All she could do was nod. Slowly, his tongue prodded her slick fingers and wrapped around the digits as he pulled them into his mouth. He took his time cleaning her fingers and when he was finished, he sat back up.

“That was one,” he said, his voice strained. She watched how he palmed himself through his pajama pants and she tried to sit up. Pink stained his cheeks, his neck. Made his lips all the more appetizing. “There’s been...a lot.”

“Do you…” She paused. It was hard to breathe. “Should we, um, talk about them? The dreams.”

“Nah,” he said. Orange offered her his hand and she took it. He pulled her over to his bed, one hand on her ass and the other on her hip. His heavy tone, accentuated by his heavy-lidded eyes and the way his hands slid under her shirt to feel her hot skin, convinced her. Left her worries in a pile of ash. “Wanna show you.”

He took his time pulling her to him. Took his time learning her lips, mapping them out with his own. The bed was quiet when he pushed her thighs apart and tasted her fully. She sighed his name, almost screamed it when his fingers slid inside her and crooked just right. He liked the sound of it. His lips on her felt right. He kissed the inside of her thighs as her muscles twitched. He sat back on his heels and looked at her, glowing and sweat-slicked because of him. It was a different kind of glow than the one she got when he made her laugh, when they talked late at night, when they sat by each other at the bar with the boys and giggled over inside jokes.

When he finally slid inside her, heavy and hot and perfect, they groaned in unison. Her fingers anchored themselves in his hair and her thighs made a home around his hips. Shifted back and forth with him as he pumped in and out of her. He wasn’t known for being talkative but that night, he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop praising her. Wouldn’t stop telling her how fucking good she felt, how they should have done this before, how dreams weren’t shit compared to that moment. Her walls fluttered tight around him and he swore.

“Cass, I’m close,” she whined. “Please, please.”

His head fell to her shoulder and his fingers to her aching clit.

“Come on, come on,” Orange gasped out, sweat dripping from his hair and pale chest flushed. “Wanna come with you.”

Her hips bucked against him and her back arched. She squeezed him impossibly tight and he was done for. With another heavy thrust, he came with her and the pulse of him inside her coaxed a filthy moan out of her. He swallowed it with his mouth, their tongues searching for each other in a mess of spit and low moans that was their first kiss. The last shudders of him passed and his forehead fell to her shoulder. Her fingers threaded through his blonde hair and he picked his head up to search her face. Were they just desperate? Where would they go after this? She seemed to read that in his eyes and her post-bliss smile comforted him.

“That was one of mine,” she whispered to him. “But I’ve had a lot more too. I’m...Would you...Want to talk more about them?”

Orange huffed against her and they both moaned quietly when he pulled out of her. He sat back on his heels and brushed his hair from his eyes. His thumb traced her hip bone. He squeezed her soft skin and she relaxed back into the bed.

“Yeah,” he breathed out with a lazy smile. “Sounds cool.”

[space-lynn]

I’m back with another Unintentional Gods AU snippet! A big thank you to my friends (Fen and Marcus) for inspiring me to write this. Nash Viseriox and Q’ryxthec are OCs that belong to me. They’ll probably show up more in future snippets.

Just a little fyi, Sasha’s transmasc and transitioned when he was 19, and since the name Sasha is already unisex, no point in changing it. Enjoy reading!

@fermented-writers-block Sorry for the mention, thought you’d wanna see this :)

~~~~~

Perfect, everything had to be absolutely perfect for tonight. 22-year-old Sasha Waybright, ever the perfectionist, had to make sure his plans were perfect. It was his and his girlfriends’ anniversary and he had a special surprise waiting for them. He was excited and nervous as he flitted about, making sure nothing was amiss. Once he had finished his 294th inspection, he was satisfied.

“Excited for tonight?” a deep voice asked behind him, chuckling.

“Yes! And nervous,” the blond laughed, turning around to face Nash Viseriox, one of his celestial best friends and a fellow space god. “Thanks for helping me out with this.”

“No problem,” Nash said, looking around. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“You think they’ll like it?”

“Oh, they’ll love it.”

Sasha nervously pushed his thumbs together, eyes darting around the area, seeking out whatever thing could be out of place.

“Are the other gods actually fine with this?”

“Y’know they are, you’re not the first to start something like this and you won’t be the last. The three of you deserve a break, Sash. What better way than to give you all a day off on the day of your 6-year anniversary.”

An anxious but grateful smile made its way onto Sasha’s lips.

“Now, I’m no time god but shouldn’t you be heading back to get dressed?”

“Shit. Right! Thanks again, Nash.”

Another chuckle from the draconic god, “Go and have fun tonight.”

Sasha nodded, teleporting away.

-----

He arrived at the doorstep to their home and placed a hand on the doorknob. It glowed red at his touch, the magical mechanism within unlocking the door for him. He opened it and stepped in, calling out, “Hey, girls! I’m back!”

“Hey, Sashimi!” Marcy chirped.

“Hi, Sash!” Anne greeted.

He grinned, moving forward and wrapping his arms around them both, pressing a kiss on each girl’s forehead. They were both dressed up, Anne in a light blue sundress and white ballet flats and Marcy in a green blouse, a black pleated skirt and black flats. “Are you two ready for tonight?”

“Mhm,” Anne nodded. “Food’s all packed. Sorry if that’s my anniversary gift for the two of you.”

“That’s good enough for us, Anna-Banana.”

“Mar Mar is right, as always.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see what you two have in store.”

“Neither can I,” Sasha said.

“How do I not know your surprise? I’m literally a goddess of knowledge.”

Sasha smirked, “I’ve had some help. From certain gods who know a thing or two about keeping things from gods like you. Could you two wait outside? I need to change.”

“You look good enough like this,” Anne teased.

“Kind of sweaty and dressed in messy clothes? Yeah, no,” he snorted.

Marcy laughed, “Go ahead, Anne and I will wait.”

He gave both of his girlfriends kisses of thanks, and went upstairs to change into a red casual button down shirt, jeans and black chelsea boots. He traveled back down the stairs and to his girlfriends outside, fingers twitching as he summoned two pieces of cloth. 

“Took you long enough,” Marcy said and he rolled his eyes.

He offered the cloth to them, looks of bewilderment on their faces.

“Blindfolds,” he said, as if that could answer their unsaid questions.

“Uh, Sash?” Anne asked, her hands fiddled with the boxes of food she held.

“Trust me,” he smiled reassuringly.

The girls looked at one another then nodded at him, taking the blindfolds from him. He held onto their food, willing them away to a safe space. Once his girlfriends’ eyes were covered, without them able to peek through, Sasha warned them before he teleported them to his surprise. It threw Anne and Marcy off but they patiently waited for Sasha as he said, “Hang on a second.”

Their boyfriend moved a few steps in front of them, grinning. “You can take them off.”

And they did, blinking their eyes. Anne and Marcy looked around with awe in their eyes.

“So? Do you like it?” Sasha asked, getting nervous.

“Holy shit, Sash,” Marcy whispered. “We love it.”

Anne nodded, a grin stretching her lips. “This is so fucking beautiful.”

God, he sure hoped it was. He’d spent months on this surprise, hoping his girls would like it.

With the help of certain gods, he’d created a small floating island in space, big enough for what he’d placed there and big enough for the three of them. There was a large tree to the side, a cherry blossom eternally in full bloom, flowers colored pink, blue and green. In front of it was a pond lined with rocks, lily pads floating about and koi fishes swimming within, their bodies made from condensed nebulae, their eyes, fins, whiskers and tail a bright white color. The water ran from the pond, creating a small stream to the edge and to a mini waterfall, disappearing into space. There were bookshelves lined in a semicircle opposite of the tree, filled with tomes, novels and other reading materials. There in the middle was a table with three chairs. In the center of the island was a blue-red-and-green picnic blanket, laid out and ready for them. There were wooden posts that surrounded the entire area, carrying lanterns that held starflies, celestial creatures born from supernovas that were pretty much like fireflies.

He watched as his girlfriends walked around, examining everything.

Marcy turned to him, one hand on the spines of the books, and asked, “How did you… do all this?”

“Had some help. The tree, the pond and the island, got to thank Fen for that. And to Marcus for this being a date night idea.”

“No wonder Fen was occupied in the last few months.” Anne shot him a look. “He was busy helping you out with” -- she motioned around them -- “this.”

“The next time I see Marcus, I’m giving him my thanks,” Marcy said. “And the books?”

“Q’ryxthec.”

“I did tell them my faves from other worlds.”

“And the koi and fireflies?” Anne knelt down by the pond, watching the koi fish swim.

“Nash helped me catch the starflies and I made the koi,” he said shyly. “Boy, did I fail a lot.”

“Well, they're gorgeous. Everything here is!”

For the hundredth time that day, a smile graced Sasha’s lips. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, I just wanted to make this night special.”

His girlfriends walked towards, lacing their fingers together. A few bouts of giggles escaped them.

“It’s special enough with you,” Marcy said softly.

The blond chuckled. He glanced at the two of them. With a snap of his fingers, their meal was on the blanket, already out of their boxes and on plates with utensils, still warm.

“Now how about we have some dinner?”

-----

After their meal, Marcy’s gifts -- matching necklaces made from a special metal from another planet with gems in their colors -- and a conversation underneath the stars, Anne stood up, stretching her legs and arms. Marcy followed suit, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips.

The goddess of knowledge smiled at Sasha. “This was a really awesome night Sashimi. Thank you.”

“I agree with Marshmallow,” Anne chirped, a giggle escaping her lips. “How long did this take you?”

Sasha grinned at them, “7 months, give or take.”

Marcy’s eyes widened, “Wow. All this effort” -- she motioned around them -- “for us?”

Anne’s smile softened, “You didn’t have to, you know?”

The space god stood up, taking both of his girlfriend’s hands in his. “I wanted to.”

“Dork,” Anne teased.

“Your one and only,” Sasha smirked.

They kissed him on the cheeks and he chuckled.

“There’s... still one more surprise I have for the two of you.”

The happy looks on their faces turned into confusion. It made Sasha gulp, hands sweating at what he was about to do.

“There’s more?” Anne asked, bewildered. Marcy was just as puzzled beside her.

The blond nodded. “Yes. We-We’ve been together for 6 years now, and it’s been the best 6 years of my life. Sure, there were a couple of hiccups in our relationship but we’ve been through them together. I love you both so much that I wouldn’t mind going through them with both of you for the rest of eternity.”

He then got down on one knee, timidly watching his two lovers’ eyes grow wide. He held his right hand out, two black rings materialising in his palm, both with glowing intricate carvings etched onto the surface. One in blue, the other in green.

“Anne Boonchuy and Marcy Wu, my sunshine and my moonlight,” -- Anne sniffled while Marcy choked back a sob -- “will you both do me the honor of becoming my wives?”

“YES!” they both screamed, tackling Sasha into the ground.

Anne nuzzled her cheek against her boyfriend’s-- no wait, her fiance’s cheek, saying, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”

Marcy grabbed onto Sasha’s shirt, pressing kisses on one side of his face. She pulled back just a bit to say, “Always a yes.”

Sasha beamed brightly at them, sharing a kiss with the two of them and watched as Anne and Marcy shared a kiss with one another, a warm and fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest.

They decidedly snuggled up together to watch the stars above for a few more hours, happy and content on their little island. The future was looking bright for them, and they honestly couldn’t wait.

~~~~~

Just pure fluff. My face hurts so much from smiling when I wrote this. I hope all of you enjoyed reading this! Have a very nice morning, afternoon or evening! Until my next snippet~ :3

[wildercrow]

HAPPY FRIDAY DARLIN!! How about "Do you want to talk about it" for Mo and Individuality? <3

YESSS this is a good prompt! @rosella-writes also requested it (tho she tossed it to Wolf, and I ran off with it instead because Mo and Indie are my babies).

Bethany snuck in, somehow.

For @dadrunkwriting

~*~*~

Rating: Teen Characters: Mo Hawke, Individuality ("Indie"), Bethany Main Relationships: Mo & Indie & Bethany Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 1569 Content Warnings: References to past emotional abuse, References to past minor character death, Leandra Hawke critical, General dysfunctional family themes, Strong language AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37965463

Context Notes:

This takes place sometime post-Trespasser

Mo is my Hawke, Individuality ("Indie") is the spirit she shares a body with, and Fiadh is an OC who's married to Bethany

In this timeline, Bethany was presumed dead but resurfaced over a decade later when she read's Varric's book and realizes her siblings lived and can be tracked down.

~*~*~

Indie watches from the interior of the headspace they share with Mo as the latter – who currently has control of the body – storms around the bedroom picking things up and shoving them into their places a bit more roughly than she ordinarily would while muttering some distinctly unkind things about her siblings under her breath.

>>Wanna talk about it?<< Indie asks after a while, deciding their brain roommate’s tantrum has gone on long enough. They can read each other’s thoughts to a degree, but nothing beats a proper conversation when it comes to actually understanding those thoughts. On both their ends, really.

“Talk about what?” Mo huffs.

>>Oh, I don’t know,<< Indie lilts, >>maybe the fact that your sister recently showed back up after over a decade of being supposedly dead? And now that Isabela’s left on a business trip and Merrill is away for the weekend doing research, you’re running a bit low on distractions.<<

Much to Indie’s surprise, Mo doesn’t respond with the usual biting sarcasm she uses when the topic of her family comes up. Instead, she instantly crumples to the floor and dissolves into tears.

Indie immediately wraps her in their best mental approximation of a hug. >>Is this a yes, or…?<<

“It’s not that I want her to be dead!” Mo hiccups, presumably referring to Bethany. “We never got along, but… but… I didn’t want her to die. But now she’s back, and every time I look at her I think of the way mom blamed me for her death, and then I think about the fact that mom’s not here anymore, so she can never apologize for blaming me for something that never even fucking happened! Not that she would ever apologize anyways, but that’s not the point. The point is that now she can’t! And it’s not fair! None of this is fucking fair! And… and… none of this is Bethy’s fault, but it’s so hard not to be mad at her, and then I feel like a monster for being mad at my sister for not dying when we left her for dead, and and and…” she’s unable to continue because her voice trails off into sobbing so inconsolable that it leaves her – and by extension Indie – slightly nauseous.

>>Hey now,<< Indie scolds gently, trying to pass along the sensation of soothing back rubs. >>None of this makes you a monster. Might make you a bit of an ass, but who hasn’t been one of those from time to time? Especially when dealing with the kinds of things you’re dealing with. Hardly an irredeemable offense. You know, she’s right downstairs if you want to just… explain the situation to her, so she knows it’s about your mom and not her. Easy solution!<<

That doesn’t help as much as they’d hoped it would. Instead, Mo’s wailing turns to shrieking. “You don’t fucking get it! I can’t! I can’t just do that! It’s not that easy! I can’t just—”

Her meltdown is interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door.

Mo’s shrieking cuts off so abruptly that the silence almost makes her and Indie’s head hurt more than the screaming did. She frantically wipes her face on the sleeve of her bathrobe, then cautiously growls, “Who is it?”

“Mo, are you alright?” Bethany’s voice calls through the door and panic immediately grips at Mo’s chest.

Shit. Indie inches closer to the front of their mind in case they need to take over on a moment’s notice.

But they needn’t have worried. Mo fights through the panic and makes her way towards the door, trying as quietly as possible to clean herself up as she goes. Finally, she reaches her destination and cracks open the door. “I’m fine,” she croaks, voice raw from crying. “What do you want?”

“I…” Bethany fidgets nervously, “heard you screaming from all the way downstairs. I know you don’t like me much. Or… at all. But you’re still my sister, and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Well, I am. So you can go away now,” Mo snaps, closing the door a bit harder than necessary, causing Indie to wince internally.

“Well, excuse me for being concerned about my family!” Bethany huffs from outside the door.

>>Let me?<< Indie asks gently. >>I know talking to her won’t fix everything, but it’s a start. We have to start somewhere, right.<<

“Fine,” Mo grunts under her breath, then retreats as far back in their headspace as she can go, leaving Indie to deal with Bethany. Which is fine. Indie likes Bethany. They hadn’t given her much thought when the Hawke siblings were younger. But now? She has a quiet strength about her. A clear sense of who she is, even if she’s still learning how to assert it to her family after so many years apart. They wish Mo could see that. Maybe eventually…

They open the door to find Bethany leaning on her cane and tapping a foot. “My sincerest apologies for Mo’s behavior. Would you like to come in and sit down?” they greet, gesturing dramatically towards the bed.

Confusion flashes across Bethany’s face for a moment, then recognition. “Individuality?”

“The one and only!” they confirm with a grin. “Pleasure to properly meet you! Now, are we going to sit or not?”

Bethany glances warily up and down the spirit currently inhabiting her sister’s body, then relaxes slightly and makes her way towards the bed. Indie follows.

“Is there a particular reason you’re inviting me into your room?” Bethany asks once they’re seated side-by-side on the edge of the bed. “Mo would never…”

“Well, I’m not Mo,” Indie interjects, a bit defensive.

“Sorry, yes…” Bethany shrinks into herself. “I know you’re not, I just…”

“Expected us to be more similar?”

“A bit. I suppose. I’m sorry, I know that’s not… My siblings are so different now. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s you and what’s just… how she is now. Sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this, we just met…”

“It’s fine,” Indie waves away the apologies with a flick of their wrist. “Figuring out where you fit into all this must be hard, when you’ve been away for so long.”

“Exactly!” She nods, the motion sending dark curly hair cascading over her shoulders, a few strands falling over her face.

“It’s been hard for Mo, too,” they explain. “She doesn’t hate you, you know. You know how it is to grieve someone and then have them come back – you thought Mo and Carver were dead, too, right?”

“I did.”

“It’s hard. Having someone come back from the dead like that. And you know how Mo is: when things are hard, she gets mad. She’s been like that since you were young, right?”

That earns a watery chuckle from Bethany. “Once time when we were kids, she got so mad at our mom that she burned all her smallclothes.”

Indie chuckles, then sighs. “Ah, your mother… that’s the other thing. Your mother blamed Mo for your, er… death. Never let it go. Blamed her for everything that went wrong from that point on, really.”

“Oh, that started long before I…” she makes a face, “died. Mother put a lot of pressure on Mo. Oh, I do feel bad that it got worse after we were separated, though…”

“You’re right, clearly nearly dying and being separated from your family, who you thought were surely dead, was all your fault, as is everything directly and directly resulting from it!” Indie says, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

Bethany snorts softly, “Okay, okay, I get it. I guess I can’t really blame myself for all that. Still, I hate that it happened.”

“So do I,” indie says. “So does Mo. But it happened, so we’ll just have to work with what we’ve got. And what we’ve got is a Mo who gets spooked every time she sees you because you remind her of the shitty way your mother treated her. And a you who feels like this whole mess is somehow your fault. Neither of which is great, but that’s fine. We can work with it.”

“How?” Bethany asks, half hopeful and half incredulous.

“Slowly, probably,” Indie says with a shrug. “These things don’t happen overnight. Quite unfortunate, really. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. In the meantime… don’t take it too personal if Mo acts weird around you, okay? It’s really not about you.”

Bethany sighs and fidgets with her hair for a moment, then nods, “I’ll try.”

“And don’t be afraid to tell her she’s being an asshole! Sometimes she needs that,” Indie adds with a fond chuckle, which Bethany echoes.

Bethany glances towards the door. “I suppose I should be going. Fiadh and I were in the middle of something, actually.”

“Of course! Enjoy your evening! Would… you like a hug before you go?” Indie asks.

Bethany looks almost startled by the offer. “I… uh… yes, that sounds nice, actually.”

Indie wraps her in a tight hug, which she returns after a moment of hesitation. After they pull apart, Bethany grabs her cane and hefts herself to her feet, flashing Indie a tired smile before exiting the room.

>>See, that wasn’t so bad!<< Indie calls back to Mo as soon as Bethany closes the door behind her.

>>Speak for yourself!<< Mo calls back, though Indie notes that she’s radiating far less anxiety than she was before.

[ve1vetyoongi]

Mic Drop | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

au: rapper!yoongi, photographer!oc

summary: when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting.

warnings: multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), lots of orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, cum play, cum eating, but also tender fucking lol, very brief mention of death.

word count: 29k (rip)

rating: definitely explicit

playlist: visit my playlist page and select “mic drop.” (all links to be added later)

a/n: ahhh you don’t understand how happy i am to finally put this out into the world!!! i started writing this fic back in july and after a few rewrites (more on this at the end of the post if anyone sticks around until then) she’s finally finished eee <3 also!!! this fic is brought to you courtesy of the love yourself collab! this project has been super fun to be a part of n i wanna say thank you to everyone involved who made it such a welcoming experience! you can check out the masterlist here (link will be added later f u tumblr) to read all the other amazing fics from the incredibly talented authors in this project (literally so talented??? it’s sickening???) (im so excited to finally read them all now im done w this monster lol). all the love as always <3

Introducing Runch Randa!

The host is barely audible over the chants of your brother's name as the lights dim and the arena is sent into a haze of strobe lights.

The air is already heady with body heat and fragrant with sweat from the thousands of bodies smushed together in the pit and beyond that thousands more seated in the stands, phone lights twinkling in the darkened arena like stars. A girl in your peripheral clutches a sign with MARRY ME RUNCH RANDA scrawled in sharpie, torso clad in one of the cheap merch hoodies with your brother's face printed on the front, just like hundreds of others around her.

It's a full house. No one's surprised. The Mic Drop semi-final always creates a buzz of anticipation within the hip hop scene. But this year, with your brother Namjoon returning to compete for the trophy again, there isn't an empty seat in sight.

A buzz pulses through the crowd when the bass kicks in. It makes hearts beat faster, blood run hotter, a crescendo of screams crashing violently through room, the sheer volume enough to make the walls shake in time with the stamp of impatient feet.

It's infectious. Almost. If you hadn't been here a hundred times before, countless nights the same as this one that all started to blur into one somewhere along the line. Different crowds but the same energy, the same hum of anticipation that used to get your bones rattling, your skin hot with suspense. Now it's just routine. Now you feel nothing.

Besides, you're just here to do your job. The photographer. To take pictures, not to enjoy the show. Just like always.

Five seconds. You know Namjoon's set list like the back of your hand by now. Five seconds until he takes the stage and the crowd goes wild.

One, two, three, four...

Like clockwork, the stage lights up and there he is, face blown up in painful detail across every screen. Runch Randa. His stage name pulses through the room, a mantra, chanted until throats turn sore and mouths run dry.

Dark framed glasses cover his eyes but his stance is enough to tell you that he came here to win, his presence immediately filling the empty stage with an energy that makes it impossible to look anywhere else, even for a moment.

He is already damp with sweat, neck glistening beneath the white lights. Like routine you snap a few shots when he taunts the camera with a smirk, brushing a hand through his immaculately gelled hair teasingly, mouth turning up into a grin when the audience roars.

Runch Randa walks across the stage with the ease of someone who lives and breathes for moments like these. Grabs the microphone with two hands, shiny silver rings glinting on his fingers beneath the harsh strobe lights.

You can see his opponents in the front row, nothing but rookies, the intimidation etched into their features visible even from where you stand side stage as they swallow the bitter pill that they stand no chance against him.

Once upon a time you were the same as the wide eyed fans in the pit, filled with an admiration for your brother. He was everything you wanted to be; a whirlwind of fearless, brazen passion when he got up on stage. But things changed once Namjoon won Mic Drop, claiming the trophy at the tender age of seventeen. After that he started filling arenas. Then stadiums. And you were left behind in the ruins of his whirlwind, feeling the Namjoon you once knew slip further away as Runch Randa took center stage, viewing his perfect persona through the lens of your camera with the same sour resentment as the rookies.

Because when a familiar beat permeates the arena, you can't help but close your eyes and imagine the name the crowd screams is yours. That it's you out there instead of him. It's you pouring your heart into the lyrics that you find yourself whispering unconsciously in time with your brother.

Your lyrics.

The lyrics you wrote especially for this performance. The same lyrics that would be streamed by millions, top charts and win Namjoon another stupid trophy to add to his already elaborate collection.

The only reason Namjoon still kept you around was because he couldn't write them himself.

The track ends and the Mic Drop host crosses the stage with a grin. Namjoon's arm is thrust into the air triumphantly.

"And our first finalist is...Runch Randa!"

You snap a picture of your brother smiling victoriously.

"He's gonna win. I know it."

Namjoon's manager Jimin sidles up beside you, grin plastered to his face. It's nauseating.

"Does he ever lose?" You murmur

Runch Randa! Runch Randa! Runch Randa!

--

Mic Drop. The most highly anticipated event in the music industry for its ability to make hip hop artists stars; as well as its tendency to break them just as easily.

Fame. Money. Glory. Just a few of the reasons why rap rookies from across the globe are desperate to compete in the ruthless battle of blood, sweat and rap that is Mic Drop.

They all think they have what it takes. That they have that special something the judges are looking for. Unfortunately, most don't even make it past the auditions phase.

When your brother, Mic Drop legend Runch Randa, announced he would be ditching his celebrity status and stadium concerts to return to his underground roots and compete for the trophy again, it raised a series of questions

Why now? What did he have to prove?

Once the press got wind of the fact that your parent's, CEO'S of the most prestigious record label in the industry Big Hit Entertainment, had run into a spot of financial trouble, everyone assumed your brother's re-entry was a master plan to win the lavish cash prize afforded to competition winners. Sure, you couldn't deny that it was partly true --- Big Hit's stocks were plummeting and a lot was at stake.

Truthfully, though, you knew your brother well enough to see that Namjoon's motives were far more selfish; to put it simply, he was greedy. Fame was his drug. Once he got a taste he could never get enough.

Of course, a cheque signed and delivered by your father's hand shut any rumors down very quickly. Your parent's were good at silencing people if it meant protecting Namjoon's reputation.

Even you, their own daughter.

The name tag labelled OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPHER was nothing but a cover up for the true reason you spent so much time at Big Hit -- writing each and every one of Namjoon's hit songs. A secret you were forced to keep as you watched your brother through a camera lens.

Which is how you find yourself as his strictly-invitation-only after party, an attempt at building momentum for the big final in just a few weeks time, with a camera in hand.

You're sat in the corner of the A-list club Jimin rented out for the event, swirling the deep red liquid in your glass with a bored disinterest as you watch your brother shake hands with company investors and big buck producers, most of which you'd never even heard of.

These things always seem to drag on, the clock ticking slower with each agonising second spent smiling courteously to uphold the supportive sister persona. Your feet are starting to hurt in your heels and all you want to do is hide away in the Big Hit studio and scribble down the lyrics floating aimlessly in your mind. That's the only good thing about these events -- they give you time to think, a rare relief in between your brother's busy schedules.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite lyricist."

A cheerful voice jolts you from your thoughts and when you blink up through the flashing lights you're met with a lazy grin belonging to Hoseok, one of the producers at Big Hit. He's an ex Mic Drop contestant himself, coming fourth and just missing out on the semi-finals three years ago. He never had the stomach for it anyway, he always says, but you never miss the rejection in his eyes.

Hoseok is also one of the only people who knows about your secret. He was hired to help you work on tracks for your brother once he made it big after all, and although he would never admit it you knew he probably had to sign a hefty NDA. Still, you were grateful to have him around — you couldn't deny you made something of a dream team together.

"Mind if I sit?" He gestures with his glass towards the empty space beside you, and you move your purse so he can squash in on the leather couch. "At least some of us are having fun, huh?" You follow his gaze to Namjoon on the dance floor, hands all over some vaguely recognizable celebrity's hips.

You grimace and swig back the remaining alcohol in your glass. "Too much fun, apparently."

Hoseok snorts, wringing his hands. "Y'know, we could get out of here if you're as bored as I am..." His words slur just slightly and you figure his confidence is a result of the amber liquor in his glass. The shy Hoseok  you know well returns quickly though as he averts his eyes when you raise a brow. "Not like that! I just thought maybe we could get a drink or something...if you want to?"

You shift awkwardly, having to shout over the booming club music for him to hear you. "I should really stay here. People might ask questions if the sister of the host just...disappears."

"Right!" Hoseok smiles sheepishly then slaps his own forehead. "Right. Forget I ever asked."

You shake your head fondly and turn back towards the dance floor just in time to see Namjoon whisper in the ear of the DJ, music cutting as he takes the mic and hops up onto the small stage to address the party.

Finally! A sign he was going to wrap up the evening for good!

He clears his throat and the huddle of mingling bodies below him fall into an expectant hush.

"Uh, so I'm not usually very good at these speech things --" He pauses and the crowd laughs. You tap your knee impatiently. "But I just wanted to say thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your support. So, the next round of drinks are on me! I haven't won — yet — but its never too early to start celebrating, right?"

Namjoon raises his flute of champagne and the party-goers cheer just as a flurry of confetti drops from the ceiling. The music starts again and you're too busy picking the brightly colored paper out of your hair disgruntledly to notice the way the room suddenly quietens and the guests part down the middle like prey from a predator.

"Y/N. Look." Hoseok elbows you sharply and flies forward in his seat, whisky sloshing over the edge of his glass. "Shit! Is that--"

Is that really him? What is he doing here? He's back!

You look up just in time to see the commotion as a figure in a black hoodie weaves effortlessly to the front of the room. You don't recognise him but something about his presence gives you chills.

Namjoon is too busy throwing back his drink to notice as the man climbs the stage, his skinny jeans and high tops sticking out like a sore thumb against the sea of dress shoes and cocktail dresses. He clearly wasn't invited.

By the time your brother senses the change in the air, it's too late.

You feel your face pale, choking when the figure finally turns and lets down his hood, revealing a head of blue hair and a venomous smirk.

"Gloss?"

Namjoon turns and his smile dissolves. He just stares stiffly at the person in front of him like he's seen a ghost. In a way you suppose he has -- the ghost of his past. After all, the last time anyone saw this face was five years ago at the Mic Drop final.

It is him! It's Gloss! Why is he back?

The night that changed all of your lives. When Namjoon claimed the Mic Drop trophy and Gloss, his opponent, lost everything.

It's been years since the last time you saw Gloss but you still recognize the distinctive confidence in his gait, the way his eyes flash with something dark as he looks your brother up and down with a breathy laugh.

Namjoon is frozen, breathing heavily.

Gloss' voice is husky when he finally speaks. It makes you shiver.

"Runch Randa. Long time no see, huh?"

A beat of unbearable silence.

"What are you doing here?"

Gloss's chuckle makes Namjoon snarl. You see the way his jaw tenses and his fists clench. He's too wound up; he'll snap if you don't do something and fast.

You get to your feet but Hoseok pulls you back down sternly by the elbow. "Don't." You protest but his grip is too tight so you just fidget helplessly instead.

Something settles in the atmosphere; a nervousness that makes you itch, makes your heart pump into overdrive as you watch them draw closer, eyes narrowed like boxers in a ring, waiting for the other to make a move. Hoseok covers his eyes.

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, Runch. The competition has only just begun."

The crowd gasps when your brother's clenched fist swings at his smug opponent. The rapper ducks but not quite in time and you can't remember which comes first — the crunch that crackles through the speakers when Namjoon's ring-clad knuckles collide with Gloss' face or the ear splitting thump of his mic dropping to the ground.

--

The party ends abruptly. Your head spins with confusion as you watch the guests leave in shock. Seeing Namjoon up on that stage opposite his biggest opponent again makes your stomach sick, like you were reliving the events of five years ago all over again.

Deep down you had always expected this moment to come. For Gloss to return looking for revenge or something. After all, Gloss didn't just loose Mic Drop to anyone -- he lost to Namjoon, his former best friend and music partner. Namjoon and Yoongi. They were supposed to win together. But for reasons still unknown, even to you, Yoongi was disqualified moments before the final commenced, plummeting your brother into the world of fame alone.

After that, Gloss all but disappeared, his pitiful downfall nothing but a hip hop legend to those who heard it. No record deals or sponsorships or stadium tours like your brother. A legend in his own right, but for all the wrong reasons. Mic Drop banned duos from competing thereafter.

Eventually you gather the courage to head into one of the back rooms where the rappers had been hauled by security guards in hi-vis jackets after their scuffle. You can hear Jimin babbling before you even reach the door.

"What were you thinking? Punching him? You better hope the press don't get ahold of this or else you're in big trouble—"

"Let me go!" Namjoon grunts to Jimin whose face is almost as red as his own. "I'm gonna end this once and for all."

"You'll do no such thing," Jimin tuts, pushing him firmly by the shoulder so he slumps into his seat with a roll of the eyes, other hand pressing his phone to his ear. "Do you even understand the amount of damage control I'm going to have to do to? — hold on, yes, this is Park Jimin speaking..."

The room smells of disinfectant and medical gauze and you spot Namjoon instantly, surrounded by an abundance of medics. His breathing is still ragged, the vein on his neck standing to prominence, knee bouncing as he impatiently waits for his ruby knuckles to be bandaged, too engaged to notice your arrival.

To your left you're surprised to find Yoongi. He's the epitome of composure despite the heavy tension in the air. He grabs a roll of bandage and begins to patch up his own fist, eyes lighting up with something you can't put your finger on when you slide into the room.

"Well, look who decided to turn up. If it isn't Namjoon's little sister. Long time no see, Y/N."

You freeze. It's been years since you heard him say your name. It makes you feel funny.

"Yoongi." You swallow. "What are you doing here?"

His shit eating grin makes your blood boil. "I take it you haven't heard yet, then."

You roll your eyes. You should be checking on Namjoon not humoring whatever stupid motives his opponent has. "Heard what, Yoongi?"

"I'm re-entering the competition, too."

You stagger backwards. Yoongi? Re-entering the competition? Mic Drop?

"But--you were disqualified--I don't understand?"

"I was disqualified. Disqualifications are only valid for five years, according to the rule book. Who knew?" He smirks when your eyes widen. "And I think you'll find that my sentence is up. I'm gonna win this time, once and for all."

"I don't think you know what you're doing, Yoongi—"

"There's more." He licks his lips. "I know your secret."

Your heart stops, mouth running dry. You throw a glance over your shoulder. Namjoon is still engaged, swatting away a medic's ice pack with a scowl, thankfully too busy to notice when you draw closer, voice a harsh whisper. "W-what secret?"

Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle, wincing just barely when he touches a damp cloth to the cut in his lip, a red splotch forming on the fabric. "You know exactly what secret I'm talking about, Y/N. Wouldn't it be ironic if someone slipped a tip off to the judges panel about Namjoon's ghost writer—"

"Shut the fuck up Min Yoongi or I'll break your nose for real this time!" Namjoon's voice bellows behind you, making you jolt. He charges at Yoongi, lip quivering like he might make his threat a reality. "Leave her out of this!"

Yoongi's nostrils flare. "Everyone knows she's a part of this, Namjoon, whether she likes it or not!"

All eyes look your way, as if expecting you to say something, but Yoongi's words fall cluelessly on you. You hadn't so much as thought about him in years. What did you have to do with this stupid ongoing feud with your brother that he refused to let go?

You glance between them, settling for sending a blank look at Yoongi and shuffling over to Namjoon instead. Your brother seems prideful at your show of allegiance. Yoongi scoffs.

"Namjoon?" Your mouth is dry with the shock of the situation and it comes out sounding funny, like you're wary of him. A gash above his eyebrow starts to dribble crimson. "Shit, you're hurt..."

"Get off me." Namjoon shakes his shoulder violently and you gingerly remove your hand, brows furrowed at his rejection. He directs his attention to Yoongi. "And you. You want a fight? It's on."

"Joon!—" He waves you off. It's pointless anyway. When he gets this rash there's no changing his mind.

"You want to end this thing once and for all? Then let's do this. You and me. At the final."

Yoongi raises a brow. "Deal. I'd shake your hand but you might try and knock me into next week again."

Namjoon doesn't laugh.

A hoard of security guards bust into the room and head straight for Yoongi. "Finally. What the fuck do I even pay these people for?"

"Get off me!"

You place a hand on Namjoon's shoulder and find that he's trembling. Rage? Nerves? Adrenaline? All three, probably, if the vacant blackness behind his eyes is anything to go by.

You're already trailing behind your brother when you hear Yoongi's voice carry down the hall. "I'll see you at the final! When I win. Secrets always find a way to come back and bite you in the ass, Runch. You should know that better than anyone!"

--

Namjoon begs you to come as his plus one to some scummy gig Gloss is rumored to be performing at tonight. To check out the competition, he says, but you recognise the way he nibbles his lip as he does.

Fear. He'll never admit it but Namjoon is scared he’s going to lose.

You agree to join him because you think it may put his mind at rest.

As Namjoon's manager, Jimin has all sorts of connections, mumbling thank you's into the head set sitting around his ears like a permanent accessory and scribbling down the address of some club down town.

The driver your parent's hired to escort Namjoon around as a paparazzi safety precaution drops the three of you a block away; the car's black tinted windows and shiny number plate would be out of place in such a scummy part of town. The plan would only work if you went unnoticed. Namjoon couldn't risk running into a Runch Randa fangirl tonight. It was technically against the Mic Drop rules to have any intel on your opponents, after all.

You don't like to tell Namjoon that his disguise won't do much for blending in. He dons a designer cap pulled down low over his face, long black coat drowning his figure and expensive leather boots crunching against broken glass and cigarette stumps as you near the club. It's too put together to seem natural, a dead give away that he doesn't belong here among the sea of ripped jeans and septum rings and tattoo sleeves around you. Even with a patterned bandana covering half of his face, the sculpted cheekbones and piercing eyes smudged effortlessly with black eyeliner poking over the top scream celebrity.

Luckily for you, the plain dress and knit cardigan hugging your body doesn't alert the suspicions of the bouncers cross armed at the entrance.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose and prods a half empty solo cup discarded outside with his toe, Jimin practically jittering with nerves and barely avoiding a stumbling drunk as you approach the men who stand at nearly double your size. Namjoon said it was best that you acted as spokesperson tonight — the only reason he even brought you along was because nobody would know your face and your position at Big Hit allowed you to pull some strings.

Your fingers shake as you produce a photography license from your bag, heart pounding as one of the menacing bouncers raises his eyebrow beneath the deep red hue emanating from a tacky neon sign posted above the door.

Luckily the breath you're holding is leaving you in a relieved thank you as he nods, moves to the side and gestures for your entourage to dip inside with the rest of the crowd. Namjoon charges ahead into the darkness and you follow him with an awkward smile to make up for his rude demeanour.

No turning back now...

Music hits like a deafening wave, blasting from the speakers at a volume that makes the walls shiver and your head throb. The club is alive with reckless anticipation, a sea of sweaty bodies gyrating on the dance floor in time with the pulsing beat. The energy swallows you whole, knuckles turning white as you cling to Jimin's sleeve, letting him elbow through the throng of indistinguishable faces that glitter beneath the tacky disco ball dangling haphazardly from the ceiling.

The crowd eventually spits you back out in a quieter corner of the club, Namjoon already making a beeline for the seedy bar. "There's a whiskey sour with my name on it and it's the only thing that'll get me through this shit." He murmurs as he crosses the room and occupies a bar stool beside a couple mid heavy make out session, pulling the hat closer around his face.

With a sigh, you turn back to Jimin who is eyeing up the strip pole and the exotic dancers nearby with wide eyes. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

The italian leather couch you slump into is suspiciously sticky beneath your bare thighs. "He needs to get the apprehension out of his system," you counter. "Once he sees that there's no competition he'll be able to take him down."

"I hope you're right." Jimin is wringing his hands, not knowing what to do with them now his headset is sat on the backseat of the car a block away. "I'd hate for this to knock his confidence."

"What?" You snort. "You think Gloss might actually beat him?"

Namjoon is the best rapper around, there's no debate. Nobody could beat him. Not even Gloss.

"No." His pursed lips say otherwise. You raise a brow. Jimin lowers his voice. "Maybe. Namjoon's rash. Gets ahead of himself. If he doesn't pull it together he'll play straight into Yoongi's hands..."

"Shows starting." Your open mouth snaps shut when the cushions dip beside you and Namjoon throws his arms over the back of the couch, swirling his half empty glass with an overconfident smirk.

Jimin averts his gaze. He knows he probably said too much. Sure, you're technically his colleague but you're also Namjoon's sister, the daughter of his boss. If Namjoon had overheard his position at Big Hit could have been called into question.

You would have to grill him more about Yoongi's motives later. Namjoon was right; the show really was starting.

Lights send the club into a dizzying purple haze, a new beat rumbling through the club that makes your skin prickle. It's almost drowned out by the electricity in the air, the frantic stamping of feet, the brazen chants of a single name over and over that fills you with a funny tingly feeling.

Gloss! Gloss! Gloss!

Something about it feels dirty.

The crowd is packed tightly together in the pit now. Even from where you sit, avoiding club goers eyes on the opposite side of the room, you find your attention glued to the stage. The set up is nothing like the one your brother occupies every night; just a wooden structure, painted black at one point but scuffed and scratched by the soles of shoes that boast the history of the place. The speakers are propped on broken crates, no big LED screens or back up dancers like your parents hire out for Namjoon.

Though none of that seems to matter when your gaze falls on the sole microphone stand placed centre stage beneath a blinding spotlight. It's the only familiar parallel between the two performers. It's a symbol of an artist, of the passion that comes with being up on that stage — any stage. It belongs to a performer.

You have to peer through a sea of frantic waving hands on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the combat boots taking the stage in time with the music rushing in your ears, mouth dry at the silver rings glinting under the harsh lights as fingers curl around the microphone.

"Yoongi." Namjoon grunts beside you, back stick straight and alert now. The traces of his previous smirk have been erased, a line appearing at the bridge of his nose. "There he is."

Yoongi throws his head back, breathes in the stuffy air that carries the shouts and whistles of the crowd like it's the sweetest oxygen money can buy.

The stench of beer burns your eyes but you're scared you'll miss a glimpse of his messy blue hair, or the eyes drunk on the fierce energy pulsing through the club to stop watching even if you tried.

When his voice permeates the room it's husky, burning through you like a shot of dry whisky. Namjoon stiffens, loosens the bandana around his face so he can see better.

Is that Runch Randa?

"Namjoon..." You hiss. "People are looking."

"Shut up." He grits, jaw tightening as Yoongi's lyrics cut through the tension like a serrated knife.

The way he moves across the stage like he owns it is exhilarating, makes the blood in your veins pump hot, limbs turning to lead as the crowd hangs off his every word.

He's good. Great, even. His lyrics give you goosebumps and you realise you haven't felt like this about a performance in a long time. Passionate. Yoongi is exhilarating to watch and it shakes you to the core.

It's then that it dawns on you. The reason Namjoon feels threatened is because there is a real chance that he might loose everything.

Gloss might take the trophy once and for all.

You only rip your eyes away from the stage when you feel Namjoon stand up beside you, his body disappearing into the crowd.

You get up too. "Leave him." You watch Jimin mouth. "He's just angry, he'll calm down—"

You don't care about Namjoon, not when the air is suddenly too thick, too heavy to breathe. Not when your hands sweat and you heave with a desire to run from reality and the suffocating smell of stale cigarette smoke that made your throat burn, like you can't get your body to breathe.

"Y/N? Where are you going?"

You swear you're floating, feet never seeming to quite touch the ground as you battle against the hazy dizziness that makes the room spin, ignoring Jimin's exasperated shouts of your name as you push through the gaps between bodies and pray your sense of direction is still intact enough to pull your outstretched arms towards the exit.

--

It's dark outside when you spill out of the exit, spluttering and heaving for air.

The brick is cool against your back when you slide down a nearby wall, hugging your knees.

A deep breath. In then out. Your chest loosens, lungs begin to feel full enough again.

Until a gravelly voice rings out into the night, clearer than the thump of unintelligible music from inside the club that makes your head pound.

"So it was you I saw back there. Good to know I'm not seeing things."

Even before you lift your face from between your knees you know who it belongs to. The single person you want to see least in the world at this very moment.

"Go away." You grumble but all that follows is a low chuckle as Yoongi slumps down next to you, ensuring to leave a safe distance between your crouched bodies.

It's funny. You had been preparing yourself to see him all night but now he's actually here in front of you, your mouth is dry.

He looks the same as he always did; dark eyes that burn hot as they scan your face, cocky smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. His brow looks wearier than you remember though, too weary for a man of twenty three. The only indication that time has passed since him and your brother were best friends.

"I assume Namjoon sent you here, then?"

The mention of your brother's name offers you the courage you need to look at him directly. His forehead still gleams with sweat in the dim moonlight, hair slicked back with a red bandana. There's a ring around his eye now, black and bruised. He must have taken off the black hoodie he donned on stage, left now in only a white vest which exposes his arms and to your dismay makes your blood run a little hotter.

"He's inside. I just came along because I had to." You mumble. "I'm not his spy, you know."

"Sure as shit seems like it." Yoongi spits with an amused chuckle, head lolling on his shoulders to face you. "He worried I might tell everyone about his little secret? Or was he trying to find his own leverage?"

A hot anger boils beneath your skin, rising all the way to your cheeks. Namjoon wouldn't do that would he? He didn't play that way. He didn't need to get an upper hand on Yoongi. He just wanted to see what he was up against.

"What's your problem, Yoongi?" The smirk on his mouth never falters, something glinting behind his eyes that tells you he wants to get a rise out of you. Even so, you can't help the way your voice raises, staggering to your feet. He chuckles darkly in response. "You get off on being an asshole or something?"

"You're too naive. What's so bad about telling the truth?" He closed the space between you until he's hovering above you, breath warm against your cheek. Your heart starts to race."What's so bad about taking back what is mine?"

Your breath hitches when his hand presses into the wall beside your head, effectively cornering you beneath his chest. "You could ruin his career."

Yoongi snorts. "What? Like he ruined mine?"

A few beats of silence. His eyes scan your face and it makes your stomach feel funny. You push at his chest, sucking in a shaky breath when he backs off a little and you realise part of you is weirdly disappointed that he did.

"Yoongi I don't know what happened between you and Namjoon—"

"No. You wouldn't know." He scorns, slinging his hands in his pockets, face darker now at the mention of his feud with your brother. "Because Namjoon loves secrets right? Namjoon likes to use people, Y/N. Just like he's using you now, to get to the top. And then he'll throw you away just like he did with me, sweetheart."

"Namjoon wouldn't do that." You bite your lip, the words leaving your tongue sounding a little less sure than you intend.

"Why? What makes you think you're any different?"

"He's my brother."

"I was his brother once too, remember?" He swallows, shaking his head in disbelief at your denial. "The only blood that matters to Namjoon is the blood shed to get him to the top."

You wrap your arms around your torso instinctively. Yoongi's words cut too deep. Maybe something inside of you thought Yoongi was right?

No. You came here to protect Namjoon yet here you were allowing his enemy to get inside your head.

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi." You spit, enjoying the way his eyes widen at the venom lacing your tone. "I made a mistake coming here."

Before you could brush past him and escape the heat  running through your blood stream which feels fuzzier than hatred should, a hand curls around your wrist.

"Shit. Looks like someone's on your trail."

A quick glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jimin, face hidden by the visor of his black cap but recognisable none the less. He speaks a few words to the bouncer, probably asking if they saw you come out.

"Oh no."

The bouncer gestures in your direction. Jimin's eyes pause for a second as they skim across your form stood rigid with shock and your heart falls out of your ass when he starts in the direction of where you stand way too close to Yoongi unable to move a single muscle as you brace for discovery. To pay for your betrayal of your brother.

"You coming or what?" Yoongi snaps you back to reality with a tug on your arm, feet stumbling over each other as he drags you behind him further down the alley and around a nearly pitch black corner, too far away from the street lights to be basked in their orange glow.

"What the fuck, Yoongi?" You try to shrug out of his grasp, heart beating faster when you see the flat look on his face. "Let go of me!"

Yoongi comes to an abrupt halt. "Listen, I'm trying to save your ass here. You want to get caught? Go on then! Not my problem."

You nibble your lip, glancing one way at the dark alley and the other at Jimin pacing up and down the street with furrowed brows.

"Just trust me, Y/N."

Jimin's footsteps get closer and closer. It's now or never.

Tightening your jaw, you turn back to Yoongi and nod. The words feel foreign as they pass your lips. "I...trust you."

With that, Yoongi grabs your hand and breaks into a sprint

Turning the corner, the alley meets a dead end. The back of the club is just as run down as the front, littered with cracked beer bottles and cigarette stumps. The sign above the door labelled NO ENTRY doesn't offer any light and apparently Yoongi doesn't listen to directions because he fishes in his back pocket for a key, sliding the bolt and pushing on the bar to hold the door open with a small nod for you to go inside first.

With a deep breath, you do.

The door closes behind you with a jingle of chains, cutting off the slither of moonlight it provided and sending you into complete darkness. You hear Yoongi slide the bolt back across and then he fumbles for you in the darkness, your body pulled down next to his with a yelp so that you're out of direct view of the window which looks inside the room.

"I think they followed us." His voice is silk but there's an underlying insinuation. Be quiet.

Yoongi's eye level now, knees squeezed up against yours in the cramped space beneath the window ledge. Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, able to see the way he scans your face when he thinks you aren't looking. The way he grumbles and looks away when you catch him.

There's not time to dwell as you hear footsteps turn the corner, tracking all the way to the door where the bolt rattles, a sleeve wiping the window and pressing a cupped face to the glass.

"She's not here, man. You must have seen someone else."

It was Hoseok. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Countless all nighters in the studio together does that to a person. Had Jimin called him all the way down here to look for you?

Jimin chimes in quickly. "I could have sworn it was her..."

The voices trail off as they retreat back down the alley, around to the front of the club.

A sigh escapes you, head falling against the wall in relief. When you open your eyes Yoongi is looking at you again. There's something pained in his expression, unspoken words visible in the way he bites his cheek to stop them from spilling out into the darkness.

His fingers are still wrapped around your arm, an electricity buzzing through your veins when you feel him lean in closer, pulling you towards him just barely.

His lips. Chapped and so close to yours. God. You think you want to kiss them. Just to know how it feels. You've never seen them up this close before. Not close enough to feel his hot breaths puffing against your forehead. Not close enough that if you just lifted your chin a little bit...

Yoongi lets out an embarrassed cough, jolting you out of your thoughts. "That was a close one, huh?" The spot where his hand resided feels cold when he rips it away.

Yoongi's face is wiped of any emotion again. He's not completely slick though as when he finally speaks again he sounds husky, the betrayal in his voice surprising even him.

"Are you okay?"

What were you supposed to say to that? I almost got caught with my brother's enemy and then thought about kissing said enemy. No, I don't think I am okay.

"Fine. Thanks."

Yoongi offers you a hand, getting to his feet and pulling you up after him before he leans across your body to flick on the lights.

The yellowish stream burns your eyes but allows you to take in the room around you. There's a keyboard in the corner, piles of sheet music strewn across the wooden desk beside it. A pair of speakers hooked up to a worn looking sound machine. A mic and a pair of headphones slung over the back of the mismatch wheely chair tucked beneath a desk.

A studio.

He must notice the way you look around with wide eyes, redness creeping up his neck as he busies himself by kicking some of the clutter on the floor behind the desk. "Wasn't expecting guests."

It definitely wasn't the high tech producing set up you were provided with back at Big Hit, no hifi system or fancy computer programmes. The furniture was mismatch, like someone had collected a bunch of spare puzzle pieces and shook them up in the box until they made a picture.

Somehow of the pieces still manage to seem somehow inherently Yoongi; the basketball tee with GLOSS on the back draped over his chair, even the empty water bottles overflowing in the trash can. The tiny framed picture of a younger looking Yoongi next to a woman you think you recognise but can't quite put your finger on.

"Genius lab?" You snort, nodding towards the sign hanging haphazardly above the monitor.

Yoongi shrugs. "What can I say? It's true."

"Confident." You muse.

You share a smile. It's strange. Familiar. The way his eyes crinkle and even the husk of the chuckle that follows reminding you of when things were good, back when you considered Yoongi to be a sort of friend. Before things got fucked up.

"You'll take it back when I win."

Old habits might not die hard but the rational part of your brain registers the implication of his words, even beneath his playful facade. The studio suddenly feels cold. Nostalgia dissipates. You remember why you're here.

"Why didn't you just let them find me?"

"You know as well as I do that Namjoon risks getting disqualified if Jimin causes a scene and gets himself caught snooping around here."

You huff an exasperated breath. For all Yoongi's talk of  having the upper hand he sure did seem reluctant to use it. "Isn't that what you want? What's stopping you? Want to drag it out or something?"

Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, crossing the room and ducking into a drawer in the far corner. He returns with two glasses and a murky bottle of something strong, already a quarter empty as he pours some out. He offers the second glass towards you but you wave it away.

"Suit yourself." He takes a swig of the dark liquid, squeezes his eyes shut. "Because I want to win fair and square."

You shake your head. "All of this. Just for a stupid trophy?"

He eyes you over the rim of his glass, swirling the liquid with an overconfidence that makes you grit your teeth in annoyance. "So Namjoon knows how it feels to lose something he loves." He looks you up and down then, coughing and turning his head when you notice it. "Yeah. I guess it's for the trophy."

Yoongi is despicable, you think. Is he really so fame hungry that he will destroy anyone standing in his way to get it? Even Namjoon? Sure, your brother has his faults but if there is one thing you know it's that he loves being on that stage. What happened between them that makes Yoongi think he deserves it more?

"So its a revenge thing, then. And what if you lose, huh?" The way your voice raises makes you wince. Yoongi slams his glass down and flashes you an are you serious face.

"Y/N don't you see? I have nothing to lose. Namjoon already took everything. My life, my family, my fame. Everything. You know how it feels to have it all dangled in front of your face? And then get it ripped away like it was never yours to begin with?"

Yes. You'd never tell him that, of course. But you did know. You had to watch Namjoon perform your songs every night through a camera lens. Snapping shots of him in his element and wishing those picture perfect moments were yours. What did Yoongi know?

"I see him on the big screen, on stages I dreamed of. Crowds screaming his name. It was supposed to be me, Y/N. Meanwhile I'm sat here," Yoongi gestures to the shabby studio you find yourself in, liquid sloshing over the edge of his glass. "In clothes I printed myself, making music in a shitty club for free because nobody will even listen to my shit."

He's panting by the end of his spiel, knuckles pressed to his eyes as he tries to regain his composure before he lets too many of his weaknesses show. Something resonates inside you, softening the anger towards him with what you recognize as sympathy.

"Then why do you still do it? Make music?"

"Because it's the only thing that never left me alone."

You sigh. While you're collecting your thoughts something catches your eye — a Polaroid picture, tacked onto the plasterboard behind his computer. It's of a smiling Yoongi and much to your surprise, a smiling Namjoon, arms wrapped around each other like nothing could ever break them apart. You briefly wonder why he kept it, if he hated Namjoon so much.

You turn to him again.

"Don't make me regret saying this but you're good, Yoongi. Like really good. Your performance earlier it was...amazing. I mean that."

Yoongi's stern eyes soften with surprise. He almost seems pained, like the simple compliment means more to him than you expected.

"So, you don't have to do this. Big Hit has connections, I could get in touch with a couple record labels--"

He stiffens again. "What? Are you my manager now? As if any record label would take a chance on the biggest Mic Drop loser in history, Y/N, don't talk shit."

You trail off. It's true and you know it.

He swallows hard. "You know what I think? I think you're here because you know that I might actually win this thing. As much as Namjoon knows how to play dirty he doesn't have the talent. He never did! That's why he's using you to write his material." His laugh makes you shiver. "How can he even call himself an artist? It's pathetic."

That's all it takes for your patience to snap. Is the way your blood boils with a sudden and insatiable rage because of the way he bad mouthed your brother? Surely you didn't actually believe him? No, everything he said was a lie -- it had to be.

Your hand curls into a fist, anger spilling over as you charge at him full force. Yoongi barley flinches, his fingers deftly curling around your wrist before it can meet his jaw and pulling you into him at the waist so he can slot his bottom lip between yours.

"Fuck yo— hmf?"

Your eyes widen as you register his slightly chapped lips moving against your own, remnants of the amber liquid he poured down his throat earlier sour on your tongue, a surprised gasp leaving you when Yoongi flips your bodies and slams your back roughly against the wall, settling himself between your legs.

"Gonna finish what Namjoon started, sweetheart?" When he pulls back you're panting, eyes trained to his parted lips with wonder.

He kissed you. Yoongi kissed you. For real.

His warm breath still mingles with yours as you try to choke a response, anything. Yoongi's eyes have a dark glint to them and god you should hate him for winding you up like this but being this close to him just feels too good.

Then, before you can think better of it, you grab his collar with your free hand and smash your lips together in a tangle of teeth and tongue that makes your entire body burn with relief.

The groan he lets out against your mouth tells you he wants this too. "Fuck, couldn't help myself." He pants. "You're driving me crazy."

You feel a dampness throb between your legs when his hands tangle in your hair, lips never leaving yours as he pulls you across the room and drops into his chair.

A whimper is pulled from your lips when his palms cup the flesh of your ass beneath your dress, though it's not in protest, dizzy with desire when he pulls you into his lap and bucks his hips so that his half hard cock brushes against your clothed heat.

"See what you do to me?" He pulls back to smirk at your swollen lips, a much needed breath entering your lungs, filling you with another bout of restless desire as Yoongi's eyes scan your face hungrily. It feels too good even though it should be so wrong.

"W-we shouldn't." Your mouth is dry, words coming out a little unsure which gives away just how much you want to keep going. "What if--"

A particularly harsh thrust of his hips makes you moan softly, head falling into the crook of Yoongi's neck. He growls when he catches sight of the growing wet patch on the front of his jeans, testament of his effect on you as much as you hated to admit it.

"What if Namjoon finds out?" His hand shoots between your legs, pads of his fingers tracing your clothed core, the coarse lace of your panties adding a delicious layer of friction against your folds. The delicate touch sets your body alight, skin burning to let go and submit to the feeling despite the voice in the back of your mind screaming no!

"What if Namjoon finds out that I make you this wet?" Your panties are sticking to your heat by now so it would have been futile to deny it. He smiles smugly when your legs shake and you throw an arm around his neck to keep your balance.

"S-shut up." It's meek and it only makes him laugh darkly, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer to nibble on the lobe of your ear.

If you didn't know any better you would think he was unaffected by this. Your chest heaves with desire and your hands itch with a yearning to touch him but Yoongi appears the epitome of composure, maintaining sinful eye contact as he pulls your panties to the side. The only give away is the way his cock twitches against your leg with each jerk of his hips, a funny sense of pride erupting in your chest knowing that he wants you too.

Open mouthed kisses drag down your jaw, lingering at your neck. His teeth nibble at the sensitive skin, tongue laving out to soothe the sting and it feels too good to worry about the bruises his sinful lips leave behind as a reminder of your weakness Namjoon could never know of.

"Look so pretty marked up, sweetheart." The pet name makes your clit throb, head throwing back as his mouth attacks the sensitive spot on your neck like he knew it was there all along. It's almost concerning how quickly he has you falling apart in his lap. How easily he turned you into a shuddering mess, barely able to form coherent sentences in between breathy gasps at the sensation of him making you his for all to see. "Show everyone that you're mine, hm?"

When Yoongi removes his hand from your core you slap a hand over your mouth to stop a whine of protest from escaping. Yoongi's eyes narrow, palming his bulge through his trousers as he watches you writhe in his lap with amusement, every twist of your hips falling short and providing no relief for your pulsing clit, already missing the feeling of his hand cupping your mound and considering how it would feel skin on skin—

Oh god. What am I doing?

You let out a groan, but not the good kind.

"What?" Yoongi seems to read your mind, snapping you back to reality when he pulls your panties to the side. He circles your entrance teasingly and you can't help the way you whimper. "Don't act like you don't want to sink down on my cock, Y/N. You could ride me right here and nobody would ever know."

"H-how can I trust you?" It would ruin Namjoon if he found out. He was already stressed, already growing distant from you. This had to stop before it went too far. Before there was no going back.

"Because I can make you feel like this." A lithe finger slides into your heat, easy because of how you drip over his hand. "Think about how much better my cock would stretch you out, hm?"

Each drag of his finger against your velvety walls has you squeezing your eyes shut. The sensation is overwhelming, and when he adds a second digit  you feel your repose crumble. Lust seems to crash over you like a wave, clouding your thought with a hazy desire to just give in and let Yoongi take you, uncaring about the repercussions now as you push down to meet his thrusts so he hits deeper than before.

"Fine." Your words are slurred, too busy chasing the feeling between your legs to see the way it makes Yoongi's eyes light up. "J-just hurry up and fuck me Yoongi."

"Well well," Yoongi settles back against the wall, looking between your bodies to watch the way his fingers disappear into your soaking cunt with an expression almost primal, his own breathing ragged now as he tries to resist turning you over and fucking you into tomorrow then and there. "Never thought I'd actually get to hear my name on your lips like this. Say it again."

A sharp flick of his wrist has you falling against his chest, pulsing around him. "Yoongi!"

"That's right," He licks his lips, free hand unzipping his jeans to relieve the pressure on his length. "Me. Yoongi." The way he mimicks your breathless tone makes a hot blush rise in your cheeks, aware of just how fucked out you must seem right now but too horny to care. "Been waiting for this. Ah shit!"

You take it upon yourself to hurry along the process by reaching into the waistband of his boxers to wrap a hand around the shaft of his cock. It pulses at your touch, the pace of Yoongi's fingers in your cunt stuttering as he flies forward, knuckles on the hand gripping your thigh turning white as he tries to regain some control while you stroke him firmly.

"Fuck your hands. Sinful. Knew they would be. God you're going to kill me if you keep this up, I swear." The worlds tumble from his mouth in one heaving breath as you twist your palm around his sticky head, enjoying the way his thighs twitch with a want to buck into your fist and his nose flares with the effort it takes to resist.

His cock feels girthy in your palm, hot and heavy as you help him shimmy his jeans around his thighs. When his cock slaps back against his stomach, impossibly hard and leaking with anticipation you feel your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" He almost taunts.

You bite your lip. "I don't think you're gonna fit."

It must have brushed his ego because the tip seemed to flush an even deeper shade of red. "Wanna sit on it and find out?"

A nod is all it takes for Yoongi to slide your panties to the side, slapping your hands away to grip the base of his cock and line it up with your entrance.

You both groan in unison when he pushes into your heat, the stretch burning with every inch, fingers clutching the fabric of his tank top at the sensation of finally being full.

"Fuuuck." You see his tongue snake out to wet his bottom lip when his hips finally join flush to yours, hair sticking to his already damp forehead as he allowed you to adjust. "So fucking tight for me, princess."

His cock throbs impossibly deep inside you when you unconsciously clench around it, feeling your face flush as you whimper for him to get on with it and fuck you already.

"Shh, patience." His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, setting it free with a pop. "Move."

At his command you do, bracing yourself on his shoulders. You raise up, feeling every ridge of his length until just the tip remains inside your heat. Then you are slamming back down and flushing at the groan which tumbles from his chest.

"Such a slut, taking my cock so well." His palms feel hot on your hips, dragging you up and down through the motion that has you panting.

Yoongi looks utterly amazed at the visual of you sinking down onto his length, unable to stop the satisfied grin settling into his features when you cry out after a particularly deep thrust. "Imagine if Namjoon could see you now. Falling apart on my cock?"

"Can we — hnng — not talk about my brother when you're in my fucking guts?"

"Why?" A whine leaves you when he slips out of your cunt, grabs you by the ass, and hoists you to your feet, roughly bending you over the desk until your cheek presses against the cold surface. Yoongi tugs your hands behind your back, cock already sinking back into your heat before you can protest at the emptiness. "Worried he'll think you're a slut for taking my cock when I'm the one whose going to fucking end him?"

"Yes!" You cry, unable to hold back now as you feel his cock hit deeper than before with every ram inside you that fills the room with the slapping sound of his pistoning hips, brushing your sweet spot each time and making the coil in your stomach tighten.

God, this is so wrong and you know it. You know it shouldn't feel so good when Yoongi's hands tangle in your hair, pulling you so that your back arches flush against his sweaty chest. Know how many people would be hurt if they knew how much you love it, how you push back into his thrusts, eager for more.

"Shit, you're squeezing so tight." His voice sounds strained now, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him shudder. "Close, shit. Where can I—"

"Inside me. Want you to f-fill me."

"Holy sh— always wanted to hear you say that. Okay, fuck."

A few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling inside you, the feeling of his release coating your walls enough to have you falling over the edge unexpectedly too, vision turning black as you cum with a cry.

The only sound that fills the silence is your heavy breaths mingling with his as your arms give out. You're silently grateful, as much as you hated to admit it, for the strong arm around your torso that holds you to him when your legs turn to jelly.

Yoongi slips out of you, admiring the way his cum leaks down your trembling thighs. The emptiness makes you keen, clenching around nothing.

"Made such a mess of you, kitten."

The sound of his zipper makes your heart sink, stiffening as he tucks his spent cock back into his pants. For a second you think he's going to leave you like this, shame caressing your cheeks as you envision how fucked out you must look.

But then, Yoongi's palms are back on your thighs as he kicks the chair from under his desk and pushes you roughly onto the cushion. "Think you can go again for me, princess?"

"Wha--?" His swollen lips make you loose your words, the way his tongue tantalizingly caresses your bottom lip drawing a choked whine from your throat instead.

"Fuck, always thought you'd make such pretty noises." It's mumbled gruffly under his breath, like he's confirming it with himself rather than addressing you. He pulls back to stare at you spread out for him, lidded eyes widening at the visual of your skirt pooled around your waist, legs kept open by the rough grip around your thigh that exposes your swollen slit. The way your arousal drips down your inner thighs along with his own release has him swallowing thickly. "Like being filled with my cum, huh? Such a slut."

Yoongi traces his fingers up your inner thighs, thumb applying a gentle pressure to your clit, legs struggling to fall shut around his hand to escape the over stimulation. "P-please Yoongi, I can't."

"You will." It's growled against your neck, hot breath making you shudder. "I know you can take it."

A knee slips between your thighs, holding them open so his fingers can deftly continue their brutal attack on your sensitive folds. Each drag of his knuckle up your slit makes you whimper, the way the pads of his fingers rub firm circles into your clit making it pulse. The feeling is more intense than before, borderline agonizing as a warmth builds in the pit of your stomach again.

Eventually the pain starts to dissipate, turns into something closer to pleasure when you feel a single digit slip into your heat, the slide made easy by the fact that his cock had already stretched you out and his release lubed you up nicely. Each pump makes a lewd squelching noise that has you biting your lip to stop from groaning unabashedly, Yoongi's gaze fixed to the sight of his knuckles disappearing inside you.

When you buck up into his touch again, desperately circling your hips to try and grind your clit against the heel of his hand, Yoongi lets out a dark chuckle. The muscles in your cunt tighten, skin damp with sweat as you fuck yourself on his hand in search of a second high that burns ever closer.

"Look at you, all needy again from just one finger. All fucked out again even after I stretched you out."

With that Yoongi removes his hand from your heat all together, leaving you gasping and clenching around nothing as your release falls farther away, unable to resist the groan of frustration that passes your lips.

"Don't stop!" Your head lolls back against the chair, thighs trembling with desperation to feel his touch again. "I was so close--"

"Suck." Yoongi raises his fingers to your lips. You notice the way they gleam, sticky and white in the studio lighting. The pads of his fingers smear the wetness across your swollen lips as he pushes for entry which you gave to him eagerly, humming around the digits. "Be a good girl, hm?"

He all but groans when your eyes flutter open and lock with his, tongue swirling around his fingers teasingly, enjoying the taste of your own arousal mixed with the saltiness of his cum, almost in sensory overload at the thought of how much better his cock would feel in your throat.

"That's it." A knuckle drags down your cheek possessively, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good girl."

A sticky trail of spit follows Yoongi's fingers when they leave your mouth with a lewd pop, your breaths coming out shaky and desperate as you watch his eyes zone in on your aching core.

The sight of him dropping to his knees is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, whimpering when his hot breath grazes over your throbbing clit. "Wanna taste you for myself."

And with that his tongue runs a rough stripe up your slit, eyes falling shut as he hums against your folds contentedly.

"Fuck Yoongi!" Your eyes roll back as he laps a few teasing licks across your bud, body turning to putty when his hands roughly pull you down the chair so that he can attach his mouth to your mound fully.

A guttural moan rises from his chest when you grind your core against his face, knuckles turning white as you clutch he chair like it's the only thing keeping you grounded, stopping you from floating away and losing yourself to the feeling of Yoongi's tongue teasing your already wrecked hole. An impatience rises in your stomach every time his nose grazes your clit, pushing your hips more forcefully to chase the relief it brings.

"So eager." You knew he'd have a smirk on his face if his lips weren't already occupied, wrapping around your clit and sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have your fingers tangling in the blue locks that spill loose from his bandanna now, holding him to your core so that you can rock against his tongue easier.

"Close sweetheart?" The way your chest heaves and little gasps spill past your lips as you chase your high must give away the effect he is having on you. You nod breathlessly and to your surprise Yoongi places a chaste kiss to your folds before pulling back all together, leaving you writhing and desperate for him to make cum for the second time. "Did I give you permission?"

Your heart beats furiously as your release slips away once again. Yoongi only stares at you intently. His lips glisten with a mixture of both of your releases and the thought alone makes your core ache. A loose shake of your head makes his eyes darken, licking some of the dampness from around his lips. "Gotta use your words, baby. Did I say you could cum?"

Dizzy with arousal, your words sound slurred and alien to your own ears. "N-no."

"Good. Now ask nicely."

"Please." It comes out whinier than you anticipate but Yoongi's hands twitch against the flesh of your thighs, giving away the fact that he likes it despite the way his mouth presses into a tight and unforgiving line. "Can I cum? Please?"

A deep laugh leaves his bitten lips. "I don't think you deserve it." His head dips back down between your legs, sloppy kisses pressed to each of your thighs as he edges ever closer to your dripping core. "I want you to count, okay?"

"O-oh, okay." He attacks your clit again, tongue swirling where his teeth graze across the pulsing bud. You're so sensitive that you're sure just the light brushes of his lips will send you over the edge if he keeps going.

"G-gonna cum if you--"

"Don't." The authority in his voice makes you gasp. "Didn't I say to count? One."

"Fuck!" Hot tears streak your cheeks when he pulls back so just his hot breath ghosts across your glistening folds. "I..I was so close!"

"Hey, hey." His hand reaches up to stroke your cheek, a strangely gentle action in comparison to the bruising grip on your thigh. "You're doing so good. Trust me, okay? Wanna make you feel good."

For the second time that night you nod, putting all your trust into him for reasons you are too fucked out to dwell on there and then.

When his tongue snakes out to tease your clenching hole again it draws an agonizing cry from you, the coil already tightening in your belly. You shut your eyes.

"Don't" The hand on your chin tightens, forces you to look down at where his face is buried between your legs, authority lacing his words again. "Keep your eyes on me."

As soon as you lock eyes he gets to work again, humming out a "good girl" before you're losing yourself again to his tongue and he has to plant your feet down roughly to stop your hips from bucking too much.

Before you know it your clit's throbbing again and you're about to fall over the edge but before you can even let Yoongi know he's pulling back with a pant, practically gasping for air but still flashing you a shit eating grin. "Didn't think I was going to let you, did you sweetheart?"

"Two." You manage to breathe. "Two!"

By now you're sick of the teasing, a hand coming between your own legs to finish yourself off, ready to come undone whether Yoongi likes it or not. Before you can get your way, Yoongi's swatting your hand away. "Desperate slut. Wanna cum that bad huh?"

"Please!" You practically whimper.

That seems to do it for him, his eyes glazing over with what you recognise as lust. As if the last of his self control just snapped. Anticipation makes your blood run hot.

"Then make it to three and we'll see if I'm feeling nice."

"Shit!" Yoongi's tongue plunges into your heat with a new found eagerness, thrusting in and out like a man deprived. You manage to maintain eye contact this time, falling apart at the way he groans in appreciation when he tastes himself, fucking your hole with his tongue mercilessly like he wants to get every last drop of his cum.

His thumb finds your clit and the coil in your lower belly tightens too rapidly for you to comprehend, tugging on his hair as you cry out. "Yoongi!"

"Cum for me."

His permission is all it takes to have you falling over the edge into a shattering orgasm that makes your vision turn black, mind wiped of any hesitation and guilt and replaced with a single word, over and over again: Yoongi.

When you finally take a gasping breath, he's there, rubbing encouraging circles into your hips and leaving kisses across your stomach that makes something in your chest warm, heart beating a little faster and not just from your orgasm.

"So fuckin' pretty when you cum." You're sure that's what he murmurs against your damp skin. "Can't believe I had to wait this long."

You furrow your brow. Yoongi sits back against his heels, wiping your arousal from his mouth with the back of his hand and flashing you a lazy but satisfied smile, looking awfully pleased with himself. Like this was his biggest dream come true.

It dawned on you that it probably was in someways -- what better way to get back at an old friend than by fucking his sister?

You suddenly feel like an idiot for letting him charm you, guilt washing through you, flying forward when your chest aches with regret.

Yoongi notices how you pale. "Are you okay? If that was too much then I'm really sorry--"

"Too much?" You suddenly feel exposed beneath his gaze, shuffling around to pull your skirt around your thighs, eyes roaming the room hurriedly for your panties so you can get out of here and quick. "This is all too much, Yoongi."

"What?" He puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you as you brush past him but the way you jolt at the touch makes him rip it away like he touched a live wire.

"I...shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake."

Namjoon's face was embedded in your mind. The way his eyes would crumple with betrayal if he found out you came here at all -- let alone let Yoongi take you so intimately. And you hadn't even tried to stop yourself from falling into him, gave in to your emotions too easily and allowed Yoongi to use you as a swipe at your own brother.

"Why? Didn't seem so upset when you were coming on my tongue." The scoff in Yoongi's voice makes you freeze.

"I can't stop you from hurting Namjoon," Your lip quivers and you have to press your nails into your palms to stop the tears spilling over. "But do you really have to hurt me, too?"

"Y/N, wait--"

Your hands shake as you grab your bag and head for the door. "Shit happened between you and my brother, I get it. But we were friends once, Yoongi. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We can't see each other again."

Your tears are warm in contrast to the cold evening air as you take off into a run, needing to get as far away from Yoongi and the evidence of your own betrayal as possible.

By the time you stumble back into the Big Hit company building, the studio is empty. To your surprise, words seem to flow out of you easier than they ever had before, a heart shaped stain appearing on the formerly empty page of your notebook.

--

Sleepless nights were becoming your norm. You had barely slept a wink since that night, not when every thought was plagued with guilt, the same name running circles around your mind, the same dark eyes and swollen lips and messy hair tauntingly appearing in your mind whenever your head hit the pillow.

Yoongi.

That night with Yoongi felt something like a dream, a hazy memory, the only evidence of it being real the fact that every time you closed your eyes you could feel the way Yoongi's hands burned your skin, how his lips moved perfectly in sync with your own.

As much as you knew it was a mistake, something that should have never happened, you couldn't help the way your heart throbbed every time you replayed it over and over in your mind, repeatedly, until you felt like you were going insane with guilt. It was eating you alive. But sometimes you would remember the way you felt when he was pressed up against you and every ounce of regret felt worth it.

You hated yourself for it, and you knew your brother would hate you to, if he ever found out.

He could never find out.

So, you take to avoiding Namjoon altogether. It wasn't that hard really, you knew his schedule well enough to be a step ahead of him at all times, and it wasn't as if he was enthusiastic about your company to begin with.

Of course sometimes your paths have to cross, but you still can't look Namjoon in the eyes when you slip into one of the Big Hit practice rooms where you know you'll inevitably find him.

The music hits before you even open the door. Namjoon is dressed in casual clothes, cap pulled down low over his face as he raps into a mic, the way his voice husks a tell tale sign that this was not the first time he'd gone over the same verse.

He seems stiffer than usual, all elbows and knees as he scrutinises his own form in the wall to floor mirror. You've seen him perform this choreography flawlessly hundreds of times so your brow furrows with confusion each time his feet miss a beat or his knees literally buckle under the pressure.

On the far side of the room sits a row of men and women in formal suits. Investors, brought in to bet on the contestant most likely to win. They watch Namjoon with intent eyes, some shaking their heads in disapproval, others whispering insults below their breaths.

Is that really Runch Randa? Pfft, he'll never win with footwork like that.

Jimin stands close by, hopping from one foot to the other and wincing with every mistake Namjoon makes. He's been making desperate phone calls for the last week, pleading with any investor he could get ahold of to take a chance on Namjoon which was hard to come by after the royal media fuck up the other day at the after party.

This was Namjoon's only chance at a do over — he needed their money if he wanted to win this thing. The judges were expecting a show from him. Smoke machines and good lighting are expensive, after all.

Namjoon, however, only seems interested in the reactions of your parents sat in the back row, expressions grave. He's chastising himself, self loathing evident in his eyes every time he stutters over a lyric. He knows how hard they worked to establish Big Hit and the disappointment in their eyes as it slowly slips through Namjoon's fingers like sand makes even you feel jittery with nerves.

For a brief moment you're grateful that you are practically invisible in this room, no eyes even glancing your way as you join them. You're glad that Namjoon takes the brunt of the pressure. You never were the strong sibling after all.

The music cuts, Namjoon coming to a stand still. He crumples at the knees, forehead pressed against the polished linoleum floor as he tries to catch his breath.

Jimin slumps into a chair, head in hands. That tells you all you need to know.

Investors leave the room, some sending apologetic looks towards Jimin with a shrug. Others deposit their cheque books back into their briefcases, taking pity on the pleading smiles and firm handshakes from your parents when they apologise for Namjoon's lacking performance. One even pats Namjoon on the back, following the small crowd as they leave the room. "Take a break, buddy."

Nearly everyone has filtered out before Namjoon gets to his feet shakily, slumping down into a seat beside you. You don't acknowledge him, afraid of what you might let slip if you do, fiddling with your camera as a distraction.

It's him who breaks the silence.

"How's the song coming along?" He seems disinterested, clicking his knuckles with no real intention of listening to your response.

"Fine." Another lie. It wasn't coming along at all, really, but now is probably not the best time to tell him when his nerves are already heightened by his failure to gain any crucial investments.

His eye is still slightly swollen from the fist fight a few days ago, a permanent line forming at the bridge of his nose that wasn't there before. You almost didn't recognise him. He stares at his own broken reflection in the steamed practice room mirrors vacantly, like he doesn't  even recognise himself.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass. Namjoon's heavy breathing slows to a regular pace.

"I know you went to see him."

It echos menacingly through the room and you stiffen, clutching the floor beneath you for support. Namjoon's hard eyes still don't look your way but you see him analysing your reaction in the mirror. The way your mouth gapes speechlessly tells him everything he needs to know.

"Not even gonna try and deny it?" His head shakes in disbelief.

You throb with guilt. "H-how did you find out?"

"I have people everywhere keeping an eye on him, Y/N. You're lucky the paparazzi didn't catch you, because it sure as shit looked shady. My own sister," He scoffs around the word, as if it tastes bad in his mouth. "Siding with him?"

You place a hand on his forearm, surprised to find him shaking beneath your touch. "I'm not siding with him, Namjoon."

"Then what are you doing?" He roars, ripping his arm away.

What was I doing? You don't even know yourself.

It takes everything inside you to keep the expression on your face neutral, to wipe away the regret and the sadness and the fear that makes your voice wobble.

"We just talked." You had to avert your gaze, scared that somehow your disingenuous eyes would give away what really happened with Yoongi — a little more than talking to say the least.

"About what?"

"The secret, okay? I wanted to protect you—"

"Protect me?" Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. "How is meddling in business that doesn't even concern you protecting me, Y/N?"

"Have you forgotten that what you're — we're — doing is against Mic Drop rules? That you could be disqualified or...worse! Get your trophy revoked?"

"Pfft. Yoongi won't say anything.."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's me he wants to hurt. I know him, Y/N. He'd never forgive himself if you—" He eyes you carefully. "If anyone else got dragged into this. It's between me and him, that's it."

Your head is spinning. You remember a time when things weren't this way, back when Yoongi and Namjoon were friends. Partners. What happened between them that made them so hell bent on destroying one another?

"There are things about Yoongi that you will never understand, Y/N. Things he did that can never be forgiven."

It briefly crosses your mind that if Namjoon could cut Yoongi, his best friend, out of his life, just how easy it would be for him to do the same to you if he found out just how unforgivable your betrayal was. A funny feeling pools in your stomach, a distance settling between you and Namjoon as, to your dismay, you realise just how much you have in common with your brother's enemy.

"But what about you, huh? Why should he forgive you? You took everything from him! I'm not surprised he's back to kick your ass. If you ask me it's him who should be holding a grudge—"

Namjoon's hands clamp onto your shoulders and you recoil from the contact. You're breathing hard, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over any second.

"Listen to me. He's trying to get in your head. You need to stay away from him Y/N. He's bad news."

"Tell me why! Help me understand!"

Namjoon's face is grave. "Some secrets are best kept that way. It'll only make it worse if I tell you."

Before you can protest he's striding across the room and hitting the play button on the boom box in the corner, music blasting from the speakers again.

"Joon—"

"Just stick to taking pictures and stop getting involved in business that doesn't concern you."

Then his body is twisting across the room in time to the music with an intensity he didn't possess before. Like a machine on autopilot.

You shove your camera into your bag and let the door slam shut behind you.

--

"We were a mistake."

The cursor flashing on the empty document on your computer screen feels like it's taunting you.

"Please don't tell my brother what we did."

You've been like this for the last week. Holed up in one of the tiny studios at the Big Hit company building, head swimming with beats and melodies and lyrics that just won't seem to fit together. Not when your mind is preoccupied with a more pressing issue.

"Are you thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about you?"

Yoongi.

God, how are you supposed to write this song for Namjoon when all you can think about is his enemy?

You don't know why you're still so hung up on Yoongi. It's not as if what happened between you meant anything. It was just a spur of the moment mistake. You were both tense and needed someone to help blow off some steam. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Right?

You'll never admit that deep down, a part of you wants to see him again. To check that he's real and that you didn't imagine the whole thing. To see if he is going as crazy as you feel.

That's when the answer hits you. The only way to make this right is to end things once and for all. Tie up all your loose ends and tell Yoongi that you and him were a one time thing. Make sure you were on the same page.

Then maybe you'll be able to concentrate on helping Namjoon beat his ass.

A sudden confidence grips you, standing up abruptly from your desk, alerting the attention of Hoseok who up until now has been quietly engrossed in the track he's producing.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

There's an address burning at the forefront of your mind. You have the route committed to memory. How long it'll take to get there. How long it'll take to get back before anyone else at Big Hit notices your absence.

The only place you knew where you might find Yoongi.

"I won't be gone long. Cover for me if anyone sees I'm gone, 'kay?"

Hoseok eyes you curiously and pulls his headphones to sit around his neck. "O-okay but don't you think you should take an umbrella? It's raining and you might catch a cold — oh."

You don't hear him, the door already slamming behind you.

--

In hindsight, Hoseok was probably right. You're soaked before you even get half way to Yoongi's studio.

Not that you care. Not when there are so many things you want to say to Yoongi. So many questions only he knows the answer to.

Not when you're about to see him again and you're giddy and nervous and scared of the way your heart feels like it's about to bust out of your chest.

You don't really know why you're doing this. For Namjoon's sake? To ease your own guilty conscience? Both?

You shake your head before your confidence can deflate and focus on putting two feet in front of the other instead, trying to take your mind of your destination by focusing on your surroundings. You always liked this part of town, with it's bustling roads and street vendors and buskers. Here it's easy to forget, to just close your eyes and let the buzz of cars and the melody from a nearby street guitarist and the torrent of ice cold rain whisk you away, like life is operating at double the speed but you're too caught up in your own thoughts to care.

So caught up in your own thoughts that you don't spot the guy handing out flyers on the side of the street until your face is colliding with his shoulder.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

The guy lets out a groan as you helplessly watch his flyers flutter to the ground like autumn leaves, disintegrating on the rain dampened street.

"Does nobody look where they're going any more? My boss is going to kill me..."

The guy gets to his knees and starts grabbing as many flyers as he can by the handful.

"I'm so sorry, at least let me help?"

You hear him sigh deeply but he doesn't stop you when you drop down beside him.

You stamp on a flyer before it can be whisked away by the breeze. It's ruined. The rain makes the ink bleed into a black blotch in the center of the sodden paper, but if you squint you can just make out the barely legible print.

Live Classical Piano - 7:30 - 9:30 Every Wednesday At The Coffee House!

A throat clears, shaking you back to reality, and a nimble hand thrusts towards you, palm up, waiting for you to deposit the pile of flyers you collected.

"Just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart? Some of us have a job to do."

Shame heats your cheeks. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'll pay for these —"

Its then, as you let your hood fall down, that the boy stiffens. You look up slowly, meeting a widened pair of piercing grey eyes for the first time. The very same eyes you haven't been able to get out of your head all week.

"Wait...Yoongi?"

It's him. He's here? A coincidence surely but it sure as shit doesn't feel like one.

Just seeing him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Yoongi blinks a few times, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he's ripping the flyers from your slackened grip and grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you behind him to the side of the street where you're just out of view from passerby's.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He deadpans.

You take in the way his mint hair clings damply to his forehead, shirt darker in places where droplets of rain soak into the fabric. He's wearing one of those traditional pianist outfits with the funny tuxedo jacket and a little black bow tie strung around his neck that looks like it came from a bad Beethoven Halloween costume. It catches you off guard. No wonder you didn't recognise him before. Not exactly hip hop.

"What are you doing here?"

Yoongi glances over his shoulder warily. "Look, you can't tell anyone you saw me here okay? Did Namjoon send you?"

"What? No--?"

"Just leave, Y/N. Before someone sees you here and tells your precious brother that you've been hanging around with scum like me." He spits, drops your arm and starts in the direction he came from.

"Yoongi, wait!" You blurt, throwing your hands up in frustration. He freezes."Can we...can we just talk?"

Yoongi nearly does a double take. He's usually full of jibes but this catches him off guard. "Talk?"

He backtracks, though you notice the way he keeps a safe distance between you. It feels silly considering how much...closer you were just a few days ago. You wonder, as his eyes look you up and down, if he's thinking about it too. If you crossed his mind as much as he crossed yours.

"Listen, I don't have time for this, I need to go get some more of these flyers..."

Your heart drops, embarrassed for even entertaining the idea that he would want to see you again.

"Please?"

He hesitates. You're sure he's going to blow you off again but then his eyes fill with something scarily close to concern. "Shit, you're shivering."

Your hair hangs in heavy tendrils around your face, droplets of cold rain caressing your cheeks. Your knees knock, arms wrapped around the damp hoodie clinging to your torso to retain some warmth.

Yoongi shrugs off his jacket, despite the way his own teeth chatter. "You're going to catch your death dressed like that."

You stand there dumbly as he holds it out to you. He kicks a stone with the toe of his sneaker awkwardly when you finally wrap it around your shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want to see me again." It's almost accusing but you're sure you hear a trace of a pout in his voice.

"I...I didn't want to." Yoongi looks up. "But I think we should talk about you know...us."

Yoongi bites his lip, like he's having an inner debate. Like he's about to do something he knows he shouldn't.

"Fine. Let's talk. I, uh, guess I have some things I need to say to you too." He scratches the back of his neck. "But not here. Could I—would it be weird if we got coffee or something?"

Definitely weird. That's what you should say. But you don't.

"Okay."

You don't miss the way Yoongi's cheeks turn a little red.

--

The coffee shop Yoongi takes you to is a quaint little place, definitely not the sort of establishment you expected rough-around-the-edges Min Yoongi to frequent with its exposed brick walls and mint green espresso mugs with smiley faces on the side that give it a somewhat cosy appeal.

"I work here," He explains when he sees your eyes roaming. "Needed some extra cash."

You nod. Makes sense. The smell of pumpkin bread and coffee beans is still a welcome relief from the bitter chill outside.

The guy at the counter nods in greeting when Yoongi approaches, already grinding up coffee like he knows his regular order. Yoongi flashes him a tight smile. You figure they know each other, not that Yoongi seems the type to mingle within barista social circles but then again he is full of surprises today.

They share a few hushed whispers, staring not so subtly in the direction of where you sit hunched in one of the corner booths, but you just ignore it by watching a rain drop crawl down the window with rapt attention.

Words barely pass between you and Yoongi until you're both seated, him with a coffee you learn he takes black and you with a much too sugary frappe which you take to stirring with your straw nervously, chin in palm.

It's Yoongi who finally breaks the silence.

"What are you thinking?" He looks at you expectantly over the rim of his mug. For some reason it makes you nervous.

Guilt niggles at your repose. The cafe is alive with indistinguishable chatter, a coffee machine whirring loudly nearby. In reality, you merely blend in to the hubbub. But as you watch Yoongi fiddle with the rings on his fingers in anticipation of your response it's like a hush has fallen and all eyes are on you. Judging, like they know how wrong it is for you to be here.

He's been the only thing on your mind all week but now you're here in front of him it's like your mind is blank.

"Did you tell anyone?"

Yoongi blinks. "Namjoon's secret? I said I wasn't going to say anything—"

"No. Our secret. Us..." It feels foreign, referring to Yoongi and yourself as a unit. You hate to admit it makes your heart beat a little faster. "Namjoon knows."

Yoongi's coffee cup clatters to the table and words rise like bile in your throat, everything you've been bottling up inside tumbling out before you can stop it.

"Namjoon knows! He found out about us somehow and now everything has gone to shit and...I shouldn't even be telling you this! God I'm an idiot! I just don't know what to do—"

Your wailing is interrupted suddenly by a warm hand covering your own. Yoongi's hand. The touch is gentle, comforting, something about the squeeze of reassurance it provides calming your hyperventilating. It feels right.

Why does it feel right?

Yoongi must misinterpret the puzzled look you flash him as a warning he's crossing a boundary because he retracts his arm jerkily, a flush creeping up his neck.

He glosses over the weird moment hastily.

"Slow down, go back. He knows?" There's a lilt of surprise to his voice. Either he's a really good actor or he is just as panicked as you by this news. "And you think I told him?"

"Well, not exactly. He knows some of it — not everything! — he thinks that I just spoke to you after the show...I assumed you would have filled in the blanks by now."

Yoongi laughs breathily. Relieved. It flummoxes you. Shouldn't he be satisfied that his plan to get under Namjoon's skin was a success?

"Y/N, there were hundreds of people at the gig, anyone could have seen us. Jimin and Hoseok probably told him. You act like I tried to seduce you just to get revenge, or something." He gulps back the last of his coffee and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before his expression suddenly turns serious. "You don't think that right?"

"Isn't that exactly what you did?"

Say no.

Yoongi opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He doesn't deny it.

Something in your chest twists with disappointment. It scares you shitless and you know you have to end this — whatever this is — before there's no turning back.

"Look, it — we — were a stupid mistake okay? I need to know that you're not going to use this against him. It would kill him."

"Mistake?" Yoongi's face drops. "Didn't I say you could trust me?"

It sounds somewhat pained, like he wasn't expecting you to think so lowly of him. His eyes soften with a certain gentleness now and you almost feel bad for thinking they could ever look at you with sinister intentions.

"Do you regret it? What we did?"

You hesitate. You want to say no so badly. But that's not why you came here.

Pull yourself together!

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No." His eyes glint. You can't breathe. "Which is exactly why I'll never say a word. I don't play that way. Fair and square remember?"

You're speechless. All you can get out is a measly oh as you stare at the coffee in your cup and process.

"What did Namjoon say anyway?"

Your fingers find the patterns carved into the surface of the wooden table top, feeling the grooves as a distraction from the embarrassment flushing your cheeks. "He told me not to come back and find you."

A wry smile creeps across his face. "But you did?"

Even Yoongi is accusing you now? God, you played right into his hands. He's probably enjoying this. That you broke Namjoon's trust again, all for him.

The worst part is that you can hardly bring yourself to care. Sitting with Yoongi still feels deliciously indulgent — seeing his face again, feeling the heat of his body where your knees brush under the table finally satisfying a craving that had been growing inside you since that night in his studio.

"He doesn't control me."

He just nods. "I get that." His fingers tap in time with the sickeningly happy radio tune that plays overhead, eager to change the subject, like he's aware that he already said too much. "How is Namjoon anyway? You written him a song yet?"

Not allowed. If any information gets leaked about Namjoon's Mic Drop stage the first person he'd blame was you. You had to keep your lips tightly sealed.

You shrink back into your seat. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Okay, then." Yoongi throws his arms over the back of his chair, a cheekiness in his voice, like he's testing the waters to see how you'll react. "Ask me something instead. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Shoot."

That's allowed, right? Where's the harm. If it doesn't involve Namjoon then it can't hurt him...

"Okay..." You purse your lips, eyes travelling around the dimly lit coffee shop. "Why do you work...here?"

Yoongi nods to the stack of damp flyers beside him. Live classical piano. "I play piano here sometimes." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. It's kinda cute. "Needed some spare cash and this was the only place that could take me at such short notice."

"You play piano?"

He nods and you follow his gaze to the grand piano stood unoccupied in the corner. You imagine how Yoongi would look bent over the keys. How his fingers would move across the instrument with concentrated precision. How the tune would mingle with the warmth of the coffee shop on a cold evening.

"I didn't know you like classical music?"

"I don't. Not really." He cocks his head, finding the right words. "Namjoon has investors right? People who just throw money at him?" You nod, somehow ashamed. "Teaching me to play piano was my mom's investment in me. She always said it might come in handy some day."

You nod. "And do you have to wear that stupid costume every time?"

"This?" A snort leaves you when he shoots you a look, a shy smile finding the curve of his lips. "Don't mean to brag but it's a huge hit with the older ladies."

You can't help but laugh when he smugly tugs at the bow tie around his neck, unable to miss how his eyes light up. You share a smile that makes you feel light headed.

"I'd have to see it to believe it."

"Well, you know where to find me if you're ever bored and need a good laugh on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday evening." He shifts in his seat. "Or you could just come back to my place, y'know if you wanted to —" You frown, the easiness that had settled between you dissipating as you both sense the inappropriateness of his suggestion. "I know I shouldn't ask, it's just I have a piano and—"

For some reason the rational part of your brain taps out and your heart says fuck it.

"I'd love to."

--

"So, where do you live?" You ask when you finish your drink and nervously copy Yoongi who is already getting to his feet.

"Oh about that...I live in the apartment upstairs actually." He chuckles sheepishly."Cheap rent, you know?"

It takes you by surprise but you don't press.

"Oh. Right."

Yoongi extends a hand towards you. The thud in your chest gets faster when you slide your palm into his and he pulls you behind him to the foot the stairway you had disregarded upon entry, the distressed baby blue door at the top labelled RESIDENTS ONLY seeming strangely inviting.

Yoongi gestures for you to go first and you've barely ascended three steps before a voice rings out behind you, making you freeze like a child caught in a mischievous act.

"Use protection you two! And close the door so that Odengie's innocence isn't compromised this time!"

The barista from before rounds the corner, a tray of empty mugs in his left hand and a cloth for wiping down tables in the other.

You suppress a laugh. "Odengie?"

"His goddamn sugar glider—" He says it more to himself rather than in response to your query, flashing the tousled haired boy an exasperated look. "Really, bro?"

The other man either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "What? He's too young to learn how baby sugar gliders are made." His eyes suddenly flit to you and, as if remembering his manners, he deposits the cloth onto a nearby table and reaches a damp hand through the staircase to shake yours with a friendly smile. "I'm Jin, by the way."

You take it cautiously, wiping your now wet hand on the back of your jeans. "Nice to meet you?"

"Come on," Yoongi is flushed red as he pushes you up the rest of the stairs with a pressure at the small of your back. "We'll be back down in a minute, chill okay?"

Yoongi shoulders his way into the apartment, pulling you across the threshold alongside him, but not before you catch a glimpse of Jin's teasing grin poking around the staircase, words reaching your ears before Yoongi could slam the door shut in time.

"Oh, so it's a quickie? Have fun!"

A laugh escapes your lips, Yoongi pressing his back to the door with a sigh of relief. "Sorry about him. He's my roommate. Kind of came with the apartment, you know?"

You glance around at the small maisonette that unfolds before you curiously. It feels more like a dorm room, a mismatch pile of shoes piled at the entry way, a pair of beanbags substituting a couch surrounding a small gaming set up littered with empty pizza boxes you presume belong to Seokjin.

"Ah. He's part of the furniture then."

The other corner of the room is littered with an assortment of vinyls strewn out beside a pair of speakers and a record player, the needle still hovering over the grooves of an album by an artist you don't recognise. Yoongi's touch to the decor, you suppose.

"Guess you could say that. He's not so bad once you get over the uh...small rodents."

You trail behind Yoongi into what you assume is his bedroom, if the frameless mattress which lay on the floor in the corner beneath the window with sheets unmade and strewn across the floor messily was anything to go by.

He flicks on the set of fairy lights tacked to the wall, a surprisingly homely touch that makes you think Yoongi isn't as cold as you believe him to be.

Yoongi approaches a clothes rack stuffed with a variety of stage outfits. "Here." He pulls an oversized hoodie from one of the hangers, throwing it at you from across the room. "You're clothes are still wet. Wouldn't want to catch a cold. You can wear this until they dry."

"O-Okay." You stand there dumbly. He isn't expecting you to strip right in front of him, is he?

He seems to sense your hesitance, turning around so his back is to you with wide eyes. He plays it off by grabbing a selection of clothing for himself, shuffling past you with eyes trained to the ground. "I'll use the bathroom. Tell me when you're done."

You are soaked through to your underwear but you leave them on since Yoongi probably didn't have a spare pair of panties laying around you could borrow. The fabric of his hoodie is soft and warm when it slips over your otherwise bare skin and you breath in the woody scent that seems to embrace your entire body, ignoring the way it makes your head dizzy, and roll up the large sleeves to free your hands before calling to him that you are done.

When he re-enters the room, pulling a grey beanie over his head haphazardly to match the much more Yoongi appropriate outfit of a simple white tee and sweats, his breath hitches at your bare legs peeking out from the bottom of the garment. His lingering stare makes you hug your torso self consciously, eyes never leaving you even as he grabs the pile of sodden clothing you discarded earlier and lays them neatly over the radiator to dry.

You practically hear the way he swallows awkwardly when his eyes lock with yours, caught in the act. He's quick to lighten the mood.

"Well...here she is."

You turn as he moves across the room to the piano occupying the opposite wall, wood stained dark but bleached slightly in places by the stream of sunlight which washes its surface from the opposite window. The stool beneath it scrapes against the scuffed floor boards when Yoongi makes enough space to seat himself on top of the blue velour cushion.

"I know it's not much — nothing like you're used to I mean, but it makes music just the same."

He must take the way you hang back near the door frame as a sign of your distaste which couldn't have been further from reality; it's simply to allow you to study the way Yoongi sits with his back perfectly straight, fingers lingering over the keys like he knows the piano as well as an old friend. And, though you'll never admit it, the way your heart thumps at the thought of being in Yoongi's most private space.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's." The breath you suck in is slightly too harsh. "Like I said earlier, she liked to play, before she..."

Died. The word never passes between his lips but it sits heavy in the air like a weight.

Yoongi's eyes avert yours so you don't press any further, instead focusing your attention to the pattern of scratches embedded into the piano's lid, unable to help the way your fingers trace the coffee cup rings littering the surface like rugged halos. "It's beautiful."

The side panel is littered with lines, carved deeply into the wood with a penknife; a makeshift height chart like the one you had on the back of your bedroom door as a kid. Your drop to your knees to squint at the nearly illegible words scrawled next to the markings that ascend almsot to the top of the instrument.

Yoongi aged 3...Yoongi aged 4...Yoongi aged 5...

All the way until Yoongi aged 7 where they stop completely.

You frown but he lets out a soft laugh, somewhat pained. "That's when she got sick. I grew up quickly after that."

Straightening up, you swallow thickly, unsure what to say, so you just settle for changing the subject instead.

"So, what can you play?"

Yoongi fiddles with the open sheet music book on the piano stand. His fingers tremble slightly as he turns the worn pages before finally settling on a sheet that is lightly crumpled and ripped around the edges and coffee stained and ferociously dog eared at the corners. Tell tale signs that he had played this piece before, over and over again.

His favourite, you perceive.

Sure, he had literally fucked you into next week already but your hands get clammy at the knowledge that Yoongi feels comfortable enough to share such an intimate tidbit about himself with you. Music means a lot to him after all. Anyone can see that.

You catch a glimpse of the piece over his shoulder.

Romeo and Juliet - Love Theme.

Yoongi notices how you raise a brow at his choice.

"I know I said I don't like classical music but this arrangement is different. You know the story right?"

High school had given you enough general knowledge about Romeo and Juliet for you to nod in confirmation.

"It's like you can feel the passion they have for each other in every note, you know? Like nothing could ever come between them."

His words are so earnest they make your heart ache. You hadn't put him down as the hopeless romantic type.

"I mean not really. They still die in the end." You counter. He frowns.

"But only because of their fucked up families. It's their feud that comes between them in the end. This piece comes before all the shitty parts. If you play it over and over again it's like they never stop loving one another."

His hands fold in his lap and he sucks in a bashful breath, nose scrunching with embarrassment at his dramatic outburst. "It's stupid. I know. Forget I said it."

"No, no I understand completely. Maybe if they weren't so busy fighting they could have listened to their hearts. Right?"

"Right." He scoots across the piano stool, patting the empty space beside him with an encouraging look. "Sit."

Like a magnet you find yourself drawn to his side, shivering when his shoulder brushes yours. His arms hover over the piano, poised and relaxed, concentration etched into the hard lines of his face.

"Ready?"

You can only nod. And then he starts to play.

Yoongi's fingertips eagerly caress the keys of his piano, eyes lifting from the sheet music to gauge your reaction while his hands carry the melody on autopilot, the pretty silver rings he dons glinting with every movement. His neck is bent slightly, allowing his head to bob and sway along with the rise and fall of the rhythm, eyes screwing shut as the composition reaches its most pivotal sequence.

He's practically raking the keys now, pure passion and violent emotion splashing every inch of the room. You shut your own eyes, hands clutching the bottom of the stool until your knuckles whiten, like you might float away with the beautiful tune if you don't ground yourself.

When he said you could feel passion with every note he wasn't wrong. You could feel his passion clear as day.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, wrists coming to a standstill. All he can do is take in heaving, ragged breaths, body slumped down, spent with the sheer effort expelled in his performance. Oxygen is lodged in your own lungs as you take in how how his bangs stick to the beads of sweat prevalent on his forehead

You recover before he does, unconsciously fumbling around in your tote bag, hands curling around the Polaroid camera you bring everywhere just in case a photo opportunity arises.

They never usually do. Until now.

"Stay like that." The viewfinder raises to your eye and you snap a shot of him with precision, the soft click that emanates through the room making Yoongi's eyes snap open.

The picture dispenses from the camera, black square fading out to reveal a hazy image as you shake it back and forth. Yoongi, face relaxed, lashes pressed softly to the tops of his cheeks with a lazy smile.

It's the Yoongi you remember. Your Yoongi.

He smirks when you slide it into the back pocket of your jeans, cheeks glowing with a contentedness you hadn't seen for a long time. "You always did like taking pictures of me."

"Shut up."

When your hand tentatively closes over his where it still rests on the piano, it's his turn to shoot you a curious look. With a shaky breath you flip his palm, slotting your fingers together perfectly, and lean across the piano to press your lips against his.

His mouth is softer than you remember, not attacking with the rich taste of lust but rather caressing your lips gently, sweetly. Taking your time to commit each tickle of breath against your nose, each slide of his bottom lip between yours, to memory. Everything other than the dizzying sensation of his tongue tracing your bottom lip disappears. All your worries, reluctances, regrets,  just dissolving like the setting sun.

Everything feels safe here with him. Everything feels right.

It barely lasts a minute, not much more than a delicate brush really, but when he pulls back you are already breathless, immediately starved of the satisfaction that came from finally feeling him against you again, tasting the spearmint mixed with something so inherently Yoongi you didn't quite realise how much you were craving.

Yoongi sighs blissfully. You need more.

Your hands tangle in the front of his T-shirt but before you can pepper his mouth with a series of further eager kisses, his free hand plants on your shoulder and pushes you back carefully.

"About what you said the other night." His eyes are wide with concern, trained to your lips, resisting the urge to capture them again with all his self control. It made your heart flip. "I don't want to hurt you Y/N. We don't have to do this—"

"I want to. So bad." His thumb caresses your knuckles. "I trust you."

In that moment, it's true. You trust him more than you've ever trusted anything in the world.

"But Namjoon..."

His words fade out when you lean in for another reassuring peck. Namjoon's name falling from Yoongi's lips doesn't make your skin crawl like it usually did. In fact you feel nothing at the mention of your brother.

"To hell with Namjoon. I'm a big girl. I know what I want."

Yoongi grins, hand coming to cup your cheek tentatively, eyes crinkling with what you could only describe as liberation. "And what's that?"

Your eyes narrow in on his parted mouth again.

"You."

His eyes darken and then his hands are tangling in your hair and pulling your chest flush to his in a kiss that is far rougher than before. No more beating around the bush. Just passion as you crawl into his lap and kiss him like it's the first time — or perhaps, more accurately, the last time. Like the world will end if you part for a single breath.

Fingers find the hem of his shirt and you're pulling it up his torso greedily, heart beating a little faster when you feel his warm skin beneath your fingertips. His chest is softer than you expect, a perfect contrast to the strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back to his lips.

It's not long before you feel his pants fill out underneath you. The feeling is all too familiar, reminding you of how it felt to be above him like this in his studio. That night feels like a life time away as his hands grab your hips and press you roughly down onto his crotch.

You both groan out at the feeling, something intense, something primal, heating up between your legs as you circle his clothed length, want and need blending into one as your core dampens with every twist of your hips.

Yoongi breaks away from your lips with a gasp when your fingers reach between your body and find the sensitive head of his cock, a wet patch forming on his sweats. His eyes are shut, head thrown back against the piano top as he bites into his thumb to stop little moans tumbling from his swollen lips.

He shoots upright when you slide down his torso, hardwood cold against your bare knees, fingers fumbling with the strings of his pants. When you finally get them open and slip your hand beneath the waistband, Yoongi all but groans at the feel of your cool palm grabbing his hot cock skin on skin.

You shimmy his sweats around his thighs, mouth practically watering as you eye up his pulsing length, unable to resist stroking it firmly with your fist. A hand covers yours.

"Wait!" A strangled noise of agony rips from his chest when your grip loosens, desperate to buck up into your touch but managing to stay firmly planted to the stool in favour of gaining your consent. "Are you sure?"

You scoff teasingly. "Would I be on my knees if I wasn't?"

His laugh is breathy, half a moan as you pick up your pace again. "Just nervous — ah!" A soft kitten lick to the reddened tip of his cock has him flying forward, knuckles white as they grip your shoulder.

"Min Yoongi gets nervous?" The precum that coats your tongue is salty, makes you itch to take him into your mouth fully.

"Shut up." His breathing is ragged, hands hovering over your hair. "Didn't think this would happen again. Needs to be perfect — holy fuck Y/N."

You give no warning before you sink down on his length, his hands finally tangling in your hair and tugging lightly when your nose presses to his pubic bone, groaning around him when you feel the head of his cock pulsing in the back of your throat.

"So warm, shit."

You come up for air, lips wrapping around his head and enjoying the way his thighs trembled when your tongue runs teasingly along the underside of his cock. His hand pushes at the back of your head, forcing his length further down your throat than you're expecting until you gag around his girth.

"Shit, sorry."

The groan that follows doesn't sound very apologetic though. The visual of your drool coating his painfully hard length mixed with the sensation of your warm mouth engulfing him whole nearly has him blowing his load then and there, utterly fucked out and oblivious to the string of groans leaving his lips when you finally come up for air. Tears streak your cheeks and Yoongi wipes them away with his knuckle tenderly.

"God, look at you." He's breathless, amazed. "C'mere."

A hand cups your elbow, pulling you to your feet so he can connect your lips again, humming when he tastes himself on your tongue. His hands are all over you now as he wraps you in his arms and stumbles backwards your back is pressed to the mattress in the corner. It dips in the middle when he crawls over you, tucking away strands of hair that fan around your face like a halo before his mouth is on you again like he can't quite help himself.

A series of open mouthed kisses caress your jaw, then your neck, all the way down your chest. Yoongi's eyes flick up to watch your face, lips parted with want as his hands fiddled with the hem of his own much too big hoodie swaddling your body.

"Can I?"

Your hand threads into his hair encouragingly. "Please."

A gasp passes his lips when he finally pulls the fabric over your head, eyes following his curious calloused hands as they explore the expanse of skin exposed to him now you're left in just your bra and panties.

"So beautiful." He traces his fingers down your shoulders, down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach. The light and delicate touches have you shivering, writhing for more. Almost as desperate to feel him everywhere as he is to worship every inch of you.

His touch stops at the hem of your panties. You're already working on the clasp of your bra, a violent nod the only permission he needs to drag the fabric agonisingly slow down your legs, unhooking them from your ankles carefully.

When he looks back up you are completely bare, laid out beneath the stream of half-sun-half-moon bathing the room.

Yoongi pounces, lips wrapping around one of your nipples greedily, tongue swirling around the hardened bud until you're gasping his name over and over.

"Can't believe you're letting me see you like this."

Hands wrap around your thighs, legs falling open, the way he licks his lips as he takes in your glistening heat not going unnoticed.

Yoongi's head shakes in disbelief, mumbling words which sound an awful lot like so pretty and fucking gorgeous as his head dips and he continues his trail of earlier kisses, tongue laving over your inner thighs and edging ever closer to your aching core.

"W-wait." Yoongi freezes and comes up to meet your face. His breath is hot against your cheek, eyes scanning your face for hesitation.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He's frantic, swallowing nervously as his palms cup your face. "Want to take care of you this time. What is it? Tell me."

"I'm fine. More than fine." You brush your noses together. It makes him smile. "Just want to feel you, that's all. Now."

Yoongi lets out a dramatic sigh, voice high and whiny. "But I've been dreaming about how you taste for days, Y/N. Literally. Dreaming about it."

You don't mention how you've been replaying the visual of his lips wrapped around your clit and edging you over and over again since it happened, just stroke his cheek in mutual understanding.

"Too bad. You'll just have to wait until next time." His features light up at the promise of a next time. Another moment like this, just you and him.

His face falls into the crook of your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin teasingly as a hand trails between your legs. When the pads of his fingers circle your entrance you whimper, clit throbbing with want when his hand pulls away nearly as quick as it came.

The want only intensifies when he brings two of his arousal coated digits to his mouth with closed eyes, guttural moan vibrating your flush chests when he savours the taste of your arousal coating his fingers.

"Next time." He hums and you are sure you nearly came untouched.

"Need you. Now."

He wastes no time taking his achingly hard cock into his fist, placing a supportive hand on your hip as he lines himself up with your entrance. You whine when he drags the tip up and down your slit, giving some brief but much needed stimulation to your clit.

Before he can push inside though you place a hand on his chest to stop him. He doesn't have time to dote on you again though because without further ado you're whipping off the beanie that still sits snugly around his head, throwing it across the room with a smirk.

His eyes glint fondly. "Whoops."

The room has grown darker by now, only lit by the gentle sparkle of the fairy lights and Yoongi has to feel around in the sheets to find your hand. In the same moment he tangles your fingers together beside your face, he pushes inside with a gasp.

Unlike the first time in his studio, Yoongi is in no rush. He wants to savour it. He fills you slowly, so that you can feel every ridge of his length dragging against your velvety walls. When he finally bottoms out and your hips press flush together, you squeeze his hand. Tight. It's this small action that tells him everything he needs to know. Explains the funny feeling in your chest without ever saying the words.

Your legs wrap around his back automatically when his hips begin to rock, angling your body so that he hits so deep with every thrust it steals the breath straight from your lips. Arousal drips from your heat down onto the bed sheets, making each slide deliciously smooth.

"Yoongi I.." It almost slips from your lips. The deepest, darkest secret that you haven't quite admitted to yourself yet.

Yoongi just ups his pace, exchanging words for actions to show you he feels the same. Fucking you a little harder, a little deeper. More sincerely. It compensates for the words neither of you know how to say.

"I know." You feel so full, so warm when he places his forearms at either side of your head to press you into the mattress. "I know."

All the yearning inside you disappears. All that matters is you and Yoongi now, nails scratching up his back, his forehead pressing to yours so that your moans mingle together until you can't tell whose was whose any more.

With a fucked out moan against your lips he's spilling inside you, sending you over the edge with him, hissing as you clench tightly around his cock.

All thoughts are wiped from your mind. Apart from the sensation of his cheek pressed to your chest, hot breath against your collar bone. How you can't believe you lived in a world without Yoongi in it. How you never want to go without him again. How you don't think you can deny how Yoongi makes you feel anymore even if you tried.

The stars behind your eyes fade, and when you come back down, Yoongi is hovering over your body, lips parted and eyes blown out, mesmerised. He's sweaty and smiling and you can feel the way his heart beats in time with yours.

"You okay?"

"Never better." His smile stretches into a grin when your words slur together. "—'m so happy."

A soft, chaste kiss is pressed to your forehead and before you know it Yoongi is tangling your legs together and wrapping the sheets around your bodies, entwined as one.

Me too. You knew that's what he meant. You'd dwell on it another time. For now your eyes are falling shut, satisfied as you inhale Yoongi's scent on the sheets...

Before a blissful slumber could take you away, you're interrupted by a series of knocks against the bedroom door. Both you and Yoongi shoot upright, exchanging a puzzled glance.

"I thought you said it was gonna be a quickie. Come on man, I need to use the bathroom!"

Yoongi groans into the pillow.

"That's it. I'm getting a new roommate."

--

As the weeks go by you start spending less and less time at the Big Hit office, turning up late to your shifts or clocking out before they were up. The perks of being employed by your parents is that they can't fire you in good conscience, you suppose.

Instead you increasingly find yourself at Yoongi's apartment, writing lyrics at the piano when he was around (sometimes even when he wasn't) or down in the coffee shop, helping yourself to hot chocolate refills on your work breaks. Jin joked that you'd need to start paying rent soon.

Just like how you were able to pick apart each of the boys' influence on the apartment the first time you went there, your own presence was becoming ever apparent.

In the way you spilled sugar on the counter when making tea and always forgot to clean it up, much to Jin's dismay. How some of your own hoodies and pyjama pants had begun to smell like Yoongi's washing powder, ending up folded neatly in his laundry basket and stowed away on his clothing rack like they belonged there. The way his piano top was littered with open notebooks filled with your messy scrawl and pens with the caps lost and half empty mugs stained around the rim with your chapstick.

Yoongi seemed wary at first, cautious to let you get too comfortable around him, dropping you home late at night once the lights in your house switched out and you knew it was safe to go inside.

But eventually he started to crave the little things that reminded him of you, unable to stop the smiles which crept onto his face as he loaded the dishwasher with the mugs and carried you to bed when you fell asleep at the piano stool.

Your bed. That's what you'd taken to calling it now.

Yoongi hated to admit that he was weak. When he got up on stage he was Gloss, hard faced and brazen and ruthless. But here with you, the facade he tried to uphold seemed to crumble into nothing. And the worst part was that he loved it.

Even when he was performing at the club or practicing for the competition, his thoughts always ended up wandering back to you. There were times when your schedules clashed or it was too risky to see each other or times you were simply too exhausted once you got home, falling into bed as soon as you crossed the threshold. But the knowledge that you were always there waiting for each other became the only safe place he knew and that was enough.

Of course you still had to oversee Namjoon's Mic Drop stage, it was your job after all, but that never seemed to come up when you were together. Just watching movies on his laptop or laughing at ungodly hours while you filled each other in on anecdotes that happened in the time you were apart, retreating beneath the sheets when Jin banged on the wall because it was four in the morning so would you please shut the fuck up.

For the first time in a long time you felt happy. Like you belonged somewhere that was all your own. No more answering to Namjoon or your parents. Just your own heart. And it always seemed to lead you back here to Yoongi, straight into his arms.

And as much as you hated yourself for it, you could feel your resentment for Namjoon growing. You'd be damned if you let him take this away from you, like he'd taken everything else.

Eventually, you stopped crawling through your bedroom window like a goddamn teenager and your parents stopped questioning why you never came home anymore. The cracks between you became a chasm. And right now, Yoongi was the band aid holding you together.

--

When Yoongi returns home later than usual, he's not even surprised when he ascends the stairs and find you and Jin laid out on the bean bags, already tipsy on red wine and giggling at his disgruntled expression.

That is until you take in the weary lines that had etched their way into his forehead, how his eyes look sunken and puffy. How his hands tremble against your waist when you pull him into your arms, body swaying back and forth lightly in your grasp like he could topple over any second.

You know what overworked looks like — after all, you had tended to Namjoon plenty of times when he refused to stop at his limits, barraging through them instead, a habit Yoongi also seemed to possess.

Ordered to stay on bed rest, Yoongi slumps face down into his pillow, letting out a long groan of relief when the mattress cushions his aching limbs.

You're already tucking him in, half way to the door to prepare him a hot cup of honey and lemon to soothe the husk in his throat from rapping too aggressively when his arms loop around your waist and pull you down to snuggle into the crook of your neck contentedly.

"Yoongi, let me go." It's futile, his grip is firm and he is already kicking the sheets over your body and pressing his cheek to the left side of your chest where you're sure he can hear how your heart races, a pout evident in your voice. "I want to take care of you."

"Mmf you are.." Words already slurring with the beginnings of sleep, he smiles groggily when you fall slack in his grasp and press your cheek to the top of his head in defeat. "Stroke my hair please?"

As soon as your fingers tangle in his blue locks he lets out a sigh of relief, like he'd been waiting to feel the touch all day.

Watching his face relax as he drifts off, you bask in the warmth of fulfilment singing your very nerve ending and silently wish that you can stay like this forever.

Just you and Yoongi against the world.

At some point your own eyes fall shut.

--

You're awoken by the sounds of muffled sobs.

The dark room momentarily disorientates you, heart quickening as you realise you're not in your own bed. Eventually your eyes adjust to the blackness, taking in the piano stood sturdily in the corner, breathing in the scent lingering on the pillow beneath your cheek and you're washed with a wave of comfort.

"Yoongi?" You croak.

The sheets are ripped from your body as Yoongi's form shoots upright. His bare back is damp with sweat, visible in the moonlight creeping through the slanted blinds, mattress rocking slightly with every sob that wracks his frame.

"Go back to sleep." His voice is gruff , but forcibly so and you hear the tremor lurking below the surface.

You sit up beside him. His face is buried in his palms. The sight makes your heart ache.

"Are you okay?" You're still new to this. Sure you're tangled up in his sheets most nights but you're still learning the ropes, unsure how best to comfort him. You settle for gently patting his shoulder, wincing at how cold and distant the action feels.

"I said go back to sleep." When his face emerges from between his hands you see the tell tale tracks of tears streaking his cheeks. Even when he wipes his face with the back of his palm there's a steady stream of them dripping down his chin.

"Is that what you really want?"

Yoongi presses his mouth together in a tight line, eyes black and empty as he tilts his head back and takes a shaky breath. That's when he crumbles. "Please stay."

"Oh, Yoongi." It's barely a whisper, afraid that if you speak too loud he'll shatter into a million pieces. He's like a scared kid, knees hugged to his chest as he wipes the hot tears from his eyes with a hard rub of his knuckles.

Yoongi stiffens when you fumble under the sheets to find his hand. You think he might pull away as you link your fingers with his but to your surprise he pulls your interlocked palms into his lap and squeezes so hard you feel the circulation in your fingers cutting off. The way he chokes back another sob stops you from complaining though, already cupping his cheek and tilting his face towards yours with your free hand.

"Why are you doing this?" His eyes squeeze shut, fresh tears sliding down his face and doing nothing to hide the slight tinge of red beneath them that tell you he's embarrassed to be seen like this. Vulnerable, so unlike the hard faced Yoongi you had come to know.

"Because I want to." You squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back weakly. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Pressing his forehead to yours, Yoongi leans down and captures your lips between his own. I know, it says.

This is different to the way he usually kisses you. There's no hunger, no hands on your neck and your thighs that set you alight with desire. Just a sense of yearning, like he wants to be closer to you, the plump flesh of his lips slotting between yours like a perfect puzzle piece, slightly salty from his tears. It makes you ache all over, like you're somehow connected and sharing his pain.

He pulls away, sharp exhales tickling your face as he scans your eyes for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you're going to leave him here alone. This is side of Yoongi that you have never seen before. He always said he isn't good with words and you know better than anyone that he hated admitting that he needed someone. This was is his way saying he needs you.

And in that moment you feel a piece of your heart flutter into his hands.

"Nightmares." He mumbles, swallowing thickly and tipping his head back against the headboard, expression pained "Just nightmares."

"Want to talk about it?" You sit back next to him, and when he rolls his neck to face you. He looks unreadable again. Eyes void. You half think he's going to push you away, turn over and fall back asleep and leave you to stare at the ceiling alone with the silence.

But he doesn't. Instead he lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head at himself as he pulls you into his arms, stroking your cheek fondly when your head comes to rest on his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

"Why can't I say no to you?"

"Guess I have that affect on people."

He snorts lightly, the first proper reaction he'd given you and you're pleased at his amusement. Pleased you were able to comfort him somewhat.

Unspoken words cloak a heavy silence for what feels like hours, just tracing mindless patterns on his arm and listening to the way his heart slows to a normal pace beneath your cheek, grip around your torso never faltering. When his breaths dwindle to soft puffs against your temple you think he's already drifted off.

Until, "Do you remember when I convinced Namjoon to sign up for Mic Drop the first time. The day after my mom died?" His voice is gravelly, both with sleep and a sign of his withheld tears.

"Of course I do." You swivel in his arms to blink up at him curiously. Sure you remembered. After the funeral, your parents had taken Yoongi in — a repayment they called it. For helping Namjoon achieve his dreams. Of course, that was before you realised just how much Yoongi would help.

Yoongi became a part of the family for a short while. An extra seat at family dinners. Another pair of shoes by the front door. Another bed in Namjoon's room.

"Back then, I was too trusting. I thought that they wanted to help me...I thought that they saw me as their son." He spits the word with the bitterness of a man who was stripped of the title of 'son' before he knew what it really meant.

You think back to how Namjoon and Yoongi used to be. Joined at the hip, everyone used to say. Brothers.

"I think they did—"

"No." He stiffens. You bite your lip. "Namjoon never cared about me. He just saw me as a way to get to the top. And it worked."

You feel a pang in your chest.

"I'm sorry, he's your brother. I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

Yoongi almost turns away but you stop him by pressing your lips to his briefly. Telling him its okay. You understand.

"The nightmares." You say with an eagerness to change to subject before you could dwell on it too hard. Before you could admit to yourself that Yoongi was right. "You didn't say what they were about?"

"I'm getting there." He lets out a strained chuckle and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you shiver.

"The last time I saw my mother she said that she wasn't scared to die. She was just scared that she'd miss seeing me on the stage. She was the only one who believed in me." The next words come out choked. "She said that if she couldn't be there to see it then I needed to make as many goddamn people watch me lift that trophy as I could."

Mic Drop was never about the fame for Yoongi after all. It always ran deeper than that; a need not a want. A vulnerable promise left unfulfilled.

The realisation makes you blanch. All this time, all these years, you hadn't been able to see the real greed right in front of your eyes; your own brother.

The image of Yoongi, crumpled and broken on that fateful day all those years ago makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

The same anger flashes across his face now. "Namjoon took that from me. I don't care about the fans or the money or the trophy — none of that shit! He took my dream Y/N. Do you understand how that feels?"

You find yourself nodding, slowly at first and then with vigour as the dam inside you breaks and your own tears flood. "I do. I understand."

And you do. You understand why Yoongi is so determined to win Mic Drop. You understand why he hates Namjoon as much as he does. You understand how it feels to always fall second best to Namjoon, to be outcasted.

"I keep forgetting her face. I can't hear her voice in my head anymore." Yoongi's crying again now, heavy sobs no longer able to be contained. "But in the dreams she's so clear. The disappointment in her eyes, its so clear, Y/N." His words are interrupted by hiccups that leave him gasping.

"I'm sorry." You whisper once he calms. It's all you know how to say.

"Not your fault." He flashes you a watery smile, wiping away the tear on your cheek with his knuckle. It makes your heart flutter, even despite the guilt weighing on your shoulders.

You feel useless. It wasn't your fault directly but you couldn't help but feel like you wronged Yoongi. All of this happened right in front of your eyes but you were too blinded by Namjoon's broken promises to see it. All this time you had let Namjoon make you think Yoongi was the enemy.

"I'm here now." Hands plant on either side of his face, eyes meeting his. "I believe in you."

He doesn't need to say anything. The way he kisses you speaks louder than words.

All you can do now is hold him, tangling your legs with his and pulling the covers over your intertwined bodies, stroke his cheek with your thumb and pepper kisses to his strained forehead which relaxes beneath your affections.

"I'll make this right." You whisper into his hair after his eyes flutter closed and the sun starts peeking through the window, watching dust particles floating in a stream of light in the room's golden glow through lidded eyes. "I promise."

--

"I like this." Jimin nods enthusiastically along to the track playing through the headphones Namjoon placed over his ears. "Sounds like a hit to me."

Namjoon's face contorts into a scowl. He disagrees, obviously, if the disgusted shake of his head is any indication.

Mic Drop is just a few days away and Namjoon had decided to scrap his entire stage after Jimin scored a couple big last minute investors who suggested he do something new, something exciting. Something that pushed Runch Randa's limits.

It was a bold move, this close to the big day. But Namjoon was cocky, said that he had enough experience in the industry to win in his sleep. Practice was a waste of time anyway.

"Next one." He waves his hand, barely even glancing in your direction as you press a button that cuts off the track and makes another one start playing.

The bass is louder in this one and it makes Jimin startle backwards, the headphone jack slipping loose so the music plays through the speakers instead.

"Hoseok and I still need to put the finishing touches on this one but it's pretty catchy—"

Namjoon cuts you off with a sharp no, it was too upbeat for his Mic Drop performance. Said he needed something with grit, something that would make the judges feel something.

"Let me see that." He gestures for you to get up, slumping down into the chair you occupied and slotting himself beneath the studio desk to scroll through the open folder on the computer screen.

He skims through countless tracks, demoed and ready to be recorded at Namjoon's disposal — you were something of a writing machine, always scribbling down lyrics on receipts from the store or on the back of your hand and paired with Hoseok you were a dream team; he always seemed to find a beat that fit perfectly. Unfortunately Namjoon's straight face gives away his disinterest in any of them.

"None of these will work." Namjoon throws the keyboard down with a force that makes you wince, jaw tightening as he presses his knuckles to his eyes in frustration. "I'm going to fucking lose."

You are about to tell him to write the fucking track himself like everyone else if none of yours were good enough for him but Jimin flashes you a glance. Don't make things worse.

You settle instead for a hand on his shoulder. He tenses at your touch. It had been a while since you'd been in the same room for longer than ten minutes and when you take in the gauntness of his cheekbones you briefly wonder if he's been eating properly. He always did forget when you weren't around to remind him.

You suck in a breath to give you strength. "There must be one that you like."

His lips purse and he disgruntledly goes back to scrolling again, clicking on a couple titles that draw his interest. You and Jimin let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

"What's this?" Namjoon's eyes narrow as he presses play on a track that sends you flying forward, heart in your mouth and colour leaving your face as a song plays that you swore to never show to anyone.

Yoongi's song. The one you wrote after that night in his studio. Probably the best song you had ever written.

"That's not — I was supposed to delete that one." The heat in your cheeks as you push him aside roughly to wrestle with the pause button has you hiding behind your hair, as if he would somehow know this wasn't just an ordinary song. That it was a song about his enemy, for god's sake.

Namjoon's slaps you away from the computer, head bobbing to the beat and you fall back into your seat in defeat, fingers crossed behind your back that he would hate it as much as the others.

"I love it."

Oh no.

"This is the one!"

Shit shit shit!

"A-are you sure?" You're rambling now, words slipping out way too fast and Jimin seems puzzled at your lack of elation at Namjoon's decisiveness. "I'm sure I could write something much better if you just give me some more time—"

Namjoon's arms pull you into a tight embrace before you can finish, your nose ending up smushed against his chest as he practically vibrates with excitement. Your body goes stiff, hands dangling at your sides awkwardly. Considering Namjoon's coldness towards you as of late his sudden display of affection takes you by surprise. Mostly because despite your physical closeness it only makes you feel even more distant from your brother.

A sigh of relief escapes when he finally sets you free, only to be replaced with pure horror as you watch him stick a USB drive into the computer and load up the song before sliding it in his back pocket with a grin while you have no choice but to stand there helplessly.

"I'm totally gonna win!" His change in attitude is abrupt but seems to soothe Jimin who nods enthusiastically. You feel sick. "I can't wait to see the look on Yoongi's face when he hears this shit."

The smirk on his face washes you with dread. If only he knew.

Yoongi was right. Secrets always find a way to come and bite you in the ass.

--

Every rap of your knuckles against the run down studio door seems to echo ominously through the alley like an omen.

"Y/N?"

As soon as the bolt wrangles across and the wooden panel flies open to reveal a disgruntled Yoongi, a warmth seems to thaw through the icy evening chill that, along with your nerves, is making your knees knock together.

His chest is warm against your cheek when he pulls you into his arms, the smell of cologne and black coffee consuming your senses. It's enough to make your tense limbs fall slack, curling into his firm frame instinctively. Finally. You can breathe again.

"Hey." He mumbles sweetly against your temple, a trace of a smile in his voice like he was happy to see you. You silently wonder if he'll still be so happy once he hears what you have to say.

The studio is basked in darkness, the contours of his face barely visible in the blue glow emanating from his desktop monitor. There's a dent in the cushion of the adjacent chair, Yoongi's hair sticking up at the back where the pair of headphones slung around his neck had sat moments ago.

"I can go if you were working, wouldn't want to interrupt." As the words are leaving your lips you cross your fingers, selfishly hopeful that he would send you away and you could avoid the conversation that was about to follow. Blame it all on circumstance, leave saying that you at least tried.

But that would be keeping a secret. It would make you just as bad as the rest. And the thought of him finding out from someone else was enough to make your palms sweat and enough to keep your feet planted against the carpet determinedly.

Yoongi's hands find you like he can't bare to keep them away, dragging you across the threshold without hesitation. "S'fine. Work better with you here anyway." He smiles and you try to return it but your lips are pressed into a permanent line, like they're scared the daunting words you have to say will come spilling out before you were ready -- if you ever would be ready. As you slump into a chair and watch him wheel another one around to face you with his arms slung lazily over the back, you realise there is no going back.

Considering the countdown to Mic Drop was nearing its end, less than twenty four hours to go before Yoongi would be stood opposite Namjoon on stage in front of thousands, he looked the epitome of relaxation, unlike the nerves in your chest making you jitter.

"Jin's on his way with takeout, I would've asked him to get more if I knew you were coming but I'm sure we can share— babe, are you alright?"

Babe. The endearment had started slipping from his lips frequently recently. At first he tried to cover it up with nervous laughter but now he was brazen, enjoying the way the word tasted on his tongue. It would be so easy to force a smile, to push "the right thing" to the back of your mind and let the selfish part of your heart accept his affections, even knowing you're about to hurt him.

But the clock ticking away on the wall sounds deafening with every beat of silence that follows, twisting the rings on your fingers until you could no longer distinguish the sound from the sinister thrum of your heart.

You can't hold it in any more.

"I need to tell you something." It comes out a hoarse whisper, nearly unintelligible beneath the stream of hip hop from the hifi system in the corner.

"What is it?" Yoongi's concerned eyes never leave you as he reaches over to switch it off, the room now draped in a shroud of quiet. The reality of the situation seeps into every dark corner and right into your bones.

"It's about us. Kind of."

Yoongi rolls closer, stopping your teeth from nibbling your cuticles by slotting his fingers between yours like a perfect puzzle piece. It seems to ground you, like you're filled with helium and he's the weight stopping your feet from floating off the ground. For a second you think everything will be okay. Nothing, not even this betrayal, could come between what you had.

"Did Namjoon find out?" Even in the dim light you see the panic stricken raise of his brows. When your head shakes in a violent negative they smooth back down, relieved, as if nothing you could say next would be worse than that. No matter how hard you try to meet his eyes you can't.

His hand squeezes gently then. You muster up the courage to squeeze back. Perhaps it would soften the blow that was about to follow.

"His song. The one I wrote for Mic Drop...it's about you. I thought you should know. Before you hear it for yourself."

Nothing but an immeasurable silence followed. "Oh."

Yoongi is unreadable, almost as if he didn't hear the words hanging like heavy storm clouds over your heads. You expected him to be angry, to shout -- even cry, maybe. Not knowing how he was feeling was even worse than any scenario you had imagined. Made you feel like you were back to square one and he was shutting you out of the window into his soul you'd worked so hard to wriggle through.

For a second you think the sudden cold against your palm is a result of the numbness coursing through your veins like you were dunked in ice water, but then you see his hand retreat to his lap, eyes wide and staring at it in disbelief like he'd been scalded.

"I...I don't understand." He sounds choked, face contorting with pain. Like it does when he wakes thrashing in the night with a bad dream. Unlike those times though, he doesn't levitate towards you for comfort, just stares at you vacantly like he's far, far away despite being physically close enough for your knees to brush.

"It was written after the first time we...y'know...here--" You glance around, convinced your mind is playing tricks when you see a vision of you in Yoongi's lap across the room, lips attached like nothing else in the world mattered. It feels far away and out of reach when the real Yoongi gets to his feet, creating a distance between you that is foreign, his form staggering across the room so that you could see the way his back tensed beneath his t-shirt when he grips the edge of his desk for support, processing.

"I don't understand."

"I was emotional. It just happened--"

"No. What I don't understand is why you're letting him perform it?" Fists send a stack of sheet music flying to the ground. His lip trembles, face red, with anger or affliction, you can't tell which.

"Yoongi--" You reach for him, fingertips barely grazing his arm before he's smacking you away with a violent shake of his head. He'd never resisted you before. Not even in the beginning.

"You expect me to just sit back and listen to Namjoon of all people rapping the lyrics my girlfr-- that you wrote dissing me? This has to be a fucking joke."

"It's not that kind of track!" You hug your body pitifully. It's the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling apart as his mouth spits a venom that makes your heart shatter. His eyes fill with one thing. Betrayal. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't keep choosing between you anymore, Yoongi. He's my brother."

"And what am I, huh?"

Every second that passes, every stutter or attempt at explanation that leaves your mouth makes Yoongi crumple. You see it in the way his adam's apple bobs, how his shoulders slacken.

For some reason you can't open up. Tell him he means more to you than anyone ever had. That you thought your heart might really break and bleed out on the carpet if he didn't feel the same way.

Instead you settle for, "Why are you so mad? It's my job! I had no choice."

Without warning he's rushing at you, trembling palms capturing your face and pressing his forehead to yours. His breaths shake, chest heaving as he battles internally with the words flying from his lips like a ghostly breath across yours.

"Because I fucking love you, Y/N! Can't you see it? I fucking love you and your bastard of a brother always finds a way to ruin things between us!"

His admission stuns you, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over in a silent stream down your cheeks.

He loves you. He loves you.

"Yoongi--" Words just won't come. Nothing feels right.

Because you love him too. It had taken you this long to admit it to yourself but it was clear now. Every breath, every beat of your heart, every fucking song you would ever write was for him. It scared you before but now, stood here in front of him, you know it's true.

Something hopeless niggles at the back of your head, stops you from spilling everything to him. If he loves you, how can he expect you to choose?

If words couldn't make him see the truth then you'd just have to show him the only way you knew how. Straight from your heart.

You're crying as you dig around in the bottom of your bag to retrieve a USB, pressing it into his curled fist firmly and begging him with your eyes to understand. "Just listen to the song. Please. It'll explain everything. I promise."

You begin to back up and his hand shoots out to stop you, pulling you roughly into his chest which only makes you cry harder, tears creating a wet patch on his T-shirt.

"Please don't leave me. Not again." It's a fragile whisper.

It's all too much.

"I can't choose any longer, Yoongi. This has to end."

With one last look at his crumpled face you flee from his studio with eyes just as watery as the first time you'd walked down this very alley. Except this time it takes all of your strength to resist running back into his arms.

Yoongi can only stand there and watch you go, the USB hot against his hand.

This has to end. The words make his chest burn and he hates it. Hates feeling weak. You always make him feel so fucking weak.

If he can't have you then he had no choice but to do everything in his power to make sure he got the next best thing.

Suddenly it all seemed clear. Yoongi knew what he had to do.

--

The arena is almost desolate when you creep inside.

Just a sea of empty seats stretching out from both sides of you where you sit in one of the stands, nibbling the skin around your thumb and watching Namjoon pace the stage below.

It's gone midnight by now. Most of the crew went home hours ago. Not Namjoon though. He stayed to practice some more. Said he couldn't get the choreography quite right.

You tried going home but you couldn't get the fight out of your head. Everything reminded you of Yoongi and your thoughts started to wander. Did he hate you? Was he listening to the song right now? Why hasn't he called? Why is your own bed not as comfy as the one you shared with Yoongi?

It all got too much eventually. Something told you that you weren't welcome at the apartment so you ended up heading towards the only other place you knew, surprised to find your brother had the same idea.

A single spotlight illuminates the stage as Namjoon twists his body in time with the one, two, three, four he unconsciously mumbles under his breath, face contorted with a stark concentration that flits to impatience when his foot slips and he misses the beat. Again. It just about sends him over the edge.

"I can't do this anymore!" A microphone squeals and hits the ground with a thump. It reverberates through the arena, your hands flying to your ears as you watch Namjoon let loose all his anger on an innocent amp stand before collapsing into a heap at the edge of the stage. "Fuck this shit!"

You're flying down the stairs to his aid before he can do any serious damage to the stage equipment — or worse, to himself.

Namjoon scoffs when he hears the stage creak under your feet. "Nice of you to show up."

It stings. You snap.

"What happened to you, Namjoon?" You look at his sunken cheekbones, his curled fists, the blackness behind his eyes. "I don't even recognise you anymore."

He just sniffs and says nothing. The distance between you feels bigger than ever.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

A secret? Since when did Namjoon abide by a policy of honesty?

He takes your shocked silence as a yes.

"I'm calling first thing and dropping out of the competition."

Your world stutters to a standstill, breath knocked out of your lungs.

Dropping out?

"Shit Joon...if this is about Yoongi—"

He waves you off.  "No. This is about me."

You can't breathe. This can't be real. "I don't understand..."

"I've made up my mind. I can't do this any more. I used to love being up here you know?"

You follow his gaze, out over the empty arena. The last time you were here every seat was filled. You were down there, part of the crowd, packed into the cramped space with barely enough room to breathe.

Imagining how it must feel to be up here comes easy. If you close your eyes you can hear the screams, feel the body heat. Smell the sweat and the anticipation. See thousand faces looking up in awe. At you. It makes your blood run hot.

You much prefer being up here, you decide.

Namjoon brings you back down. "Now it just feels like a chore. I look out and all I see is disappointed faces. I can't pretend for them anymore."

"People travel miles to see you Joon! No one is disappointed."

"Not the fans. They love me. Well, Runch Randa, at least." He cracks a half smile. "It's me whose disappointed. In Kim Namjoon."

You always thought your brother was sure of himself. He's cocky, confident and above all fearless. It's his biggest strength (and his most irritating quality sometimes) but it's what you always admired most about him.

Clearly you didn't know your brother as well as you thought you did.

You bite your lip. "Why?"

He turns to face you, leaning back into his arms while he searches for the right words and, little to your knowledge, gathers the courage to confide in you.

"Because I re-entered Mic Drop for all the wrong reasons. I just wanted to prove myself, you know? Win for real this time, not just by default." He swallows. "But then I saw Yoongi perform. And to be honest? I saw you. I saw how much you care about the music. How you come alive when you're writing lyrics or when you're in the studio." His smile is woeful. "Im supposed to feel like that. But I don't. I never did. It's like I'm always asleep, y'know?"

You did know. Every time you lifted a camera. Every time you pressed the shutter and snapped another shot of Namjoon on stage you felt your soul grow exhausted.

It makes the distance between you and Namjoon close a little. For once you understand each other and you don't have to hide how you feel any more.

"I can't stop thinking that it's your name the fans should be screaming. Not mine. They deserve better than me."

"But you're the best performer I know!" You rush. It always seemed like he wanted to keep you out of the spotlight at all costs. "Why now?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm a selfish person, Y/N. I thought I was protecting you from... all this." He gestures around him. "The late nights and the paparazzi and the criticism and a fucking manager on your back all the time." His eye roll makes you snort, sharing a brief smile at the image of hardworking Jimin mumbling into his headset like a man posessed.

He's quickly serious again though. "Fame comes with a price. But I realize now that the price is worth it if your hearts in the right place and...what I'm trying to say, Y/N, is that mine never was."

You let your chin fall into your palm. Huh. "So that's the big secret?"

"Actually...there's something else." He shifts nervously. "I know about you and Yoongi."

You freeze, scrambling to your knees with wide eyes. "Wait, Joon, let me explain—"

"Let me finish!" Namjoon brushes you off with a breathless laugh, nodding to himself, as if finally coming to a solid conclusion about coming clean when his eyes meet yours. "He's in love with you."

This time it feels like the whole world goes into overdrive. You forget how to breathe.

"What...how...huh?"

It's Namjoon's palm squeezing your knee reassuringly that brings you back down.

"He always was. Even back before things got messed up." A deep breath. Something was coming, you could tell by the way his eye twitched nervously. "That's why me and Yoongi fought. That's why I...I lied and said that I wrote the song the night of the Mic Drop final...accused him of plagiarism—" Your mouth gapes. "I know! I know. Don't look at me like that. I can see the irony."

It all makes sense now. She's a part of this, Namjoon, whether you like it or not.

The reason Namjoon sacrificed his best friend wasn't for fame but for your sake?

You want to fly at your brother, scream at him for keeping this from you for so long. For turning you against Yoongi. For keeping you from the only person to make you feel safe. Feel Happy.

But his eyes are void of anything other than regret and you can tell his betrayal had been playing on his mind all these years.

"Point is, I didn't want you to get hurt." He shuffles awkwardly, not knowing what to do with your silence. "That's not an excuse, I know. Do you hate me?"

"No." Your voice sounds small. His chest heaves with relief. "I just wish you had been honest with me before. Saved us a ton of trouble."

"I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was a shitty brother in the end anyway."

It's strange. Even after all the fights and the resentment and the goddamn secrets, you don't think Namjoon is a shitty brother. Sure, his actions and intentions were shitty there was no denying it. But now it's like the puzzle pieces finally click into place and the full photograph comes into view, crystal clear.

All this time, he just wanted to protect you, when you should have been protecting him. He was hurting too, you just never knew it.

"It's not too late, Joon. Just be happy for me okay? I think..." If Namjoon plucked up the courage to tell you his secrets then it was only fair that you did too. "I love him too."

A pinkish tinge caresses your face when you finally admit it, both out loud and to yourself.

You love Yoongi. And now all the cards are on the table there's nothing holding you back from it.

Now you just need to tell Yoongi.

"I know. You think I don't know who that song is about?" The grin that spreads across Namjoon's features is sincere."And I am. Happy for you, I mean."

Now the truth is out in the open it feels like your wounds are already beginning to heal. You place your hand over his and squeeze it tight. It was time to forgive.

A thought suddenly strikes you. "So what are you gonna do now?

Namjoon fumbles in the back pocket of his jeans, thrusting something towards you. A polaroid picture. The same photo you'd seen at Yoongi's studio.

He kept it, too?

"This kid." His finger jabs at the innocent face of a younger Namjoon, arm wrapped around the shoulders of his best friend. "I didn't get enough time to live as him before I became Runch Randa. I think it's time to just live as Namjoon for a while."

"But what about Big Hit? It'll fall apart and mom and dad will kill you—"

"No it won't. They have you. I already talked to them, in fact. There's a stage with your name on it right here." He pats the ground. "If you want it, that is."

You blink, stunned. You? "I...I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you." Namjoon says. "And I'll be cheering you on from the front row."

You'd have to think about it long and hard but you can't help the grin that appears on your face. Things were going to be okay.

An urge rises in your chest to tell Yoongi this news. To see the way his face would light up as you started the journey to following your own dreams, like he always said you should.

You and Yoongi were going to be okay.

"Hey! Maybe I should try photography now I have some free time." Namjoon tugs at the camera strap around your neck, lifting his eye to the viewfinder and laughing when you cover the lens with your hands. "Damn I'm kinda good!"

You bump his shoulder teasingly, the belly laughter that spills into the arena feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

You're only interrupted by approaching footsteps. Jimin bursts into the arena.

"Namjoon," he pants. "I have some bad news."

--

It's compulsory for all competitors to attend the crowning ceremony. Even those who get disqualified.

RUNCH RANDA BLACKLISTED FROM COMPETING IN FUTURE HIP HOP COMPETITIONS AFTER PLAGIARISM SCANDAL SURFACES.

Just one of the devastating headlines that hit the media after the judges panel received an anonymous tip in the form of a USB stick that exposed Namjoon once and for all. The same USB that you pressed into Yoongi's hands just hours before Namjoon's disqualification.

RAPPER GLOSS TO SNATCH MIC DROP TROPHY IN SHOCKING REVENGE FOR HIS BRUTAL DEFEAT.

Namjoon reads it aloud in the back of the car. He laughs at the end but it does nothing to lighten the mood.

The windows are tinted but you can still see the hoards of fans lining the streets, eyes steeped in betrayal.

You should hear the way they boo as your brother drives past. You should hear the way they chant his name instead.

Yoongi! Yoongi! Yoongi!

But you don't. You don't hear anything. You don't feel anything. All you can think of is the same three words, throbbing in your chest over and over again.

I love you.

Did he mean them at all?

"Y/N? Did you hear me?"

"Hm?" You look up. Namjoon's staring at you with concern.

"Your phone's ringing again."

It's no surprise when you pull out your phone and see a contact picture of yourself and Yoongi gracing the screen. He's been calling all morning. It takes every strength inside you to tap the red decline button.

"Aren't you gonna talk to him?"

Another call lights up the screen.

"Not like this."

With trembling fingers you shut your phone off all together.

--

Paparazzi cameras flash brazenly as you step out of the black company car, following Namjoon with your hood pulled tightly round your face. A hoard of body guards usher you through a back door to the arena. The main entrance is reserved for notable guests only, you learn.

While Namjoon's presence usually makes the room buzz with an electric energy, there's no excitement when he enters now. An awkward hush falls like a shroud as he elbows his way past pitiful stares. It's like someone died. In a way it's true; there's no trace of Runch Randa in Namjoon's hunched stance. Here, the dead still walks for everyone to see.

Jimin's waiting by the stage door. No words are exchanged as he slips passes into your hands. Namjoon's has a big red strike through the word TALENT, "guest" scribbled all too generously below it to match your own.

It's nearing show time. They're just waiting for you to take your seats, Jimin says, though you barely hear him. You're too busy imagining what you would do if you bumped into him right now, heart pounding whenever you catch a glimpse of blue or hear a laugh you're convinced you recognise.

Deep down you know exactly where you have to go to find him. To find Yoongi.

"I'll join you in a second, okay?"

Namjoon looks nervous, the first time you've ever seen him with such a severe case of the jitters. His smile is empty when you rub his forearm reassuringly. "Don't be too long. If I'm gonna do this I want you by my side."

You manage a smile. "Always."

With that, Namjoon takes a deep breath and pushes out into the life of the arena and you find your feet numbly carrying you down back corridors you know by heart until you reach his dressing room.

Your heart is blind, you think. Even now the shattered fragments ache for him, beat a little faster knowing he's just behind this door.

Why can't you go back to hating him, just like you did before? Deep down you know it's because you never really hated Yoongi. You don't think you ever could.

Forgiving him, though? Some wounds never heal, no matter how badly you want them to.

You pause outside the door. The stupid gold star that used to be there has been scraped off, replaced with a new name tag. Gloss. You put your ear to the wood. Nothing.

A deep breath and you find the handle. Should you burst in and give him a piece of your mind? Knock and enter politely? You can't help but scoff. Shouldn't he be the one coming to find you?

He calls your name before you can do either.

"Y/N?"

Fuck. Is hearing his voice supposed to hurt this bad?

You don't know what you're expecting when you turn around. Something different about him perhaps. A sign that he isn't the person you had grown to know. Grown to love.

But there he is. All messy blue hair and bitten lips and eyes a little red around the edges. Your Yoongi.

Your arms curl around your body like a band aid, holding you together. You can't crumble. Not now.

He looks stony but his eyes flicker with tender remorse when he sees the tears staining your cheeks.

His hands reach for you instinctively. The same hands that make love to his piano in the shitty apartment above the coffee shop. The same hands that could make you fall apart with even a delicate touch. You want to run into them so bad it hurts. But now they're stained red with betrayal and he chokes when you recoil.

Seconds feel like hours as you just stand there taking each other in like it's been years. It's only been a day or two. Maybe three? You can't remember. They all rolled into one meaningless blur of angry tears and insomnia.

You had a whole speech prepared for the moment you finally faced him again. But there are no words that feel right. You just need to know. If he meant every touch and every inside joke and those three words that make your heart soar despite how badly you want to hate him. And there's only one way to find out.

"Why did you do it?"

Your voice sounds timid and scared, like you feel. He winces.

"Y/N, let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Your voice raises shakily."How you lied to me? How you used me?"

He rushes towards you and it takes all of your strength to draw back, especially when his eyes look so frantic, so desperate. Like he's having one of his nightmares. It tugs at your heart because this time the nightmare is real and you're living in it.

"It's not like that—"

"Did you ever even want me? What about all that fair and square bullshit you told me huh?"

"Of course I wanted you Y/N...want you." His eyes fill with pain. "This wasn't meant to happen. I know how this looks but I just panicked!"

You rush at him, fists curled like that day in his studio except this time he doesn't stop you when you start hitting his chest, vision blurry.

"He was going to pull out! Namjoon was going to let you win! So that I could -- we could be happy!"

"What I...I don't understand?" His mouth gapes, processing. "But you didn't..." He swallows, like remembering is painful. "When I confessed, you didn't say it back. I thought we were over! I thought I had nothing to lose, Y/N. He had already won..."

You remember your words. I can't do this anymore. A misunderstanding that would never have happened if he just—

"Did you even listen to the song?"

His face drops at the mention of the song. "No." He looks like he might cry. "I was angry! I...I acted impulsively. I never got the chance..."

You bared your soul in that song in ways you never thought you could. He wasn't supposed to find out how you felt about him this way. Not here, when you're falling apart and there's nothing you can do to stop it. But it all comes tumbling out before you can change your mind.

"I wrote that song because I love you, Yoongi!"

Silence. He has to grip the wall to steady himself.

"Y-you love me?"

"I love you." The words feel indulgent on your tongue and even now as they hang heavy in the air and you're overcome with an indescribable combination of grief and longing, you mean them with every bone in your body.

You rush at him. You can't help it. Can't resist how your head falls into his chest and how you cry harder when you breathe in his scent one last time, sobs muffled by his hoodie. But he hears them, you know he does, because his hands are trembling when they pull you closer like you're fragile enough to break.

"I love you. So fucking much it hurts, Yoongi."

You're weak. You're so so weak.

You don't know why you do it but you grab his face with both hands and then you're kissing him. Showing him how much you need him, how much you mean your words. His hand cups your jaw like always and his lips press back with a tender desperation and you believe him. You believe that he loves you. Whole and true. Because in that moment, with his lips on yours, everything is okay. He's your Yoongi and you're his Y/N and he loves you.

But then you pull back and he's crying too and everything's broken and your heart goes numb.

"I'm sorry. God, Y/N I'm so sorry. If I could take it back I promise I would."

You muster up all the strength you can. You know what you have to do.

"I'm giving you a choice, Yoongi. You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over. For real."

He tries to kiss you again, grabbing at you frantically when you turn your cheek.

"Y/N, don't do this. We love each other. That's all that matters right?" He musters up the closest thing to a smile he can manage, like he's convincing himself more than he is you. "You don't have to—"

"No." You pull away from grip. It feels cold and wrong. "I have to do this. If you love me like you say you'll...you'll understand."

You turn but he grabs your wrist, pins you in place.

"I can't lose you to him again, Y/N. I...I already lost you once and I don't think I..."

The hard faced Min Yoongi you once knew is gone. All that's left is the vulnerable man in front of you who holds your heart in your hands with a grip so tight it scares you.

"He can't win...please."

You suck in a final breath.

"Please what? Don't make you choose between me and that stupid fucking trophy? You did this to yourself, Yoongi." You turn and this time he lets you. "The only person pushing me away is you."

"Y/N please, wait!"

You don't dare turn to look at him as you walk away. Not even when he pleads or you hear him fall to his knees, a strangled sob echoing down the hall. You're scared you might run back to him if you do.

You don't let yourself break down until you turn the corner. Yoongi doesn't follow.

--

"I'm okay." You assure Namjoon as you take a seat beside him inside the arena. It's a lie, of course. No amount of cold water splashed on your face in the bathroom could prepare you for this moment.

You're just in time. The ceremony is already starting. The host is taking the stage and the lights are dimming but you're too numb to care.

You go out on that stage and pick up that trophy and we're over.

Your decision is final. There's no going back. You've cried all your tears. You've said all that needed to be said. All you're left with now is a sickly feeling in your stomach as you look down at the trophy sat in a display case center stage.

We love each other. A slither of hope tugs at your heart strings. You barely manage to suppress it.

"Sorry! Excuse me!" The empty seat to your left sinks under the weight of Hoseok as he clumsily stumbles into the arena, late as always.

He offers you a smile which turns to a frown when you only stare past him vacantly, straining your neck to keep an eye on the stage.

A hand covers yours. You freeze at the contact, only relaxing when you peer through the darkness to find Hoseok staring at you gently. His voice is a whisper. "Whatever happens I'm here for you, okay?"

A wave of emotion crashes through you and you think you might cry again. You can't make your lips sound out a response but Hoseok understands and you feel a little stronger when you turn your attention back to the ceremony knowing you have someone by your side.

"As you all know there have been some...complications with this year's finalists." The host coughs and fiddles with his tie awkwardly. "But we are glad to announce that we do in fact have a winner here with us today!"

The crowd chants Yoongi's name again. Namjoon stiffens. Your free hand grabs his and he squeezes it tight.

"So without further ado, I would like to welcome this year's winner, Gloss!"

The crowd goes wild but the sound is drowned out by a ringing in your ears. It's like you're underwater, holding your breath as you wait and wait for him to take the stage and all the oxygen to slip away.

One...two...three...

You get to ten seconds, then twenty seconds and then thirty and by the time you get to forty you feel yourself break the surface, take a heaving breath.

You're floating. He chose you.

He loves you! Yoongi loves you! He—

No.

You're seeing things. You must be. That can't be Yoongi's face lighting up every screen in the room. That can't be him crossing the stage and taking the trophy from the hands of the host with a smug grin. That can't be Yoongi holding it up in the air like a martyr.

That can't be your Yoongi. This is a stranger.

You crash back to reality when Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist and you realise your sobbing. Sobbing so hard it hurts your chest and your lungs burn with misuse and you're sure the tears will never stop.

"It's okay! Shh."

Nothing is okay. Nothing.

Yoongi's face is still blown up on the big screens in painful detail. The smile on his face falters when he looks out into the crowd and spots you instantly. Sees you crumple.

There are two things Min Yoongi ever loved in this world.

His music and you.

The trophy feels cold in his hands. The crowd gasps as he rushes to the edge of the stage and calls out to you.

"Y/N wait! I'm sorry—"

You hear his voice through the speakers but it's too late. You're already running.

Yoongi's mic drops to the ground.

--

Yoongi's nightmares are back. Except this time they're different.

When he closes his eyes you're there. Smiling and laughing like you used to. His heart warms and he reaches for you...

And then he realises it's not you. Just a picture, blown up on the big screen as you cross the stage at the front of the room he's suddenly aware he's in.

He glances around at the indistinguishable people around him, all smiling and clapping ferociously. Why isn't he happy?

The bottle in his hand is half empty. He's realises he's screaming. So hard his throat burns and his lungs beg for air but you don't even look his way. He screams your name, over and over again. Nobody seems to hear him.

Namjoon's there too. Bouncing a baby on his knee, maybe one or two years old if he has to guess.

"That'll be you one day," He whispers, but its deafening to Yoongi. "Only the very best for my niece." The baby giggles up at him, stubby fingers wrapped around his thumb.

She has your eyes. The very same eyes Yoongi would look into like they held everything in the world. The very same eyes Yoongi saw fill with pain on the last day he saw you before things got messed up.

She has Hoseok's nose. And his mouth, too, small and heart shaped. The resemblance is uncanny as Hoseok appears beside Namjoon, takes the baby girl into his arms and places a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Then there you are. The same old Y/N. The same smile that makes your eyes crinkle and the same laughter than makes his heart melt. The same girl who used to love him.

Though it's clear that that much is no longer true. Not when you lean up to kiss Hoseok on the cheek, Namjoon drawing you into a hug when you present the trophy in your hands to them with an elated laugh.

A family.

It feels like he's been punched in the stomach.

Yoongi always thought winning Mic Drop would mean he had everything. Fame. Money. Glory.

He didn't need family. He always got by on his own.

It took holding the whole world in the palm of his hand to realise none of it meant anything if he didn't have you by his side.

You were his everything. But he was too stupid to see it and he let you slip away.

It's too late now.

A hand appears on his shoulder. It's cold, grip bruising. The voice that comes next gives him chills every single time.

"So was it worth it?" Namjoon asks.

Yoongi tries to answer but his vision is blurred with hot tears now and he's on his hands and knees and he's screaming.

And when he wakes up at ass o clock, sweaty and gasping for air, he still finds himself reaching for your warmth beside him.

But all his fingers find are cold sheets and bitterness.

extended a/n: okay so if you have reached this far then you are a TROOPER. a trooper who i love and appreciate endlessly for reading 30k of my waffle lmao im so sorry <3 ksksksk so this fic has been in my head for the longest time and in my drafts for almost five months so im super attached to it and putting this out is like the scariest ever?? i really put my heart into this piece, like y’all don’t understand how many times it’s cropped up in my dreams and I’ve woken up like MUST WRITE. it’s far from perfect but i tried my best!! i can’t tell you how many scenes had to be rewritten until i was happy enough with them bc this fic is literally my baby in every sense of the word and i wanted to get it right :( although that just made the ending even more SOUL DESTROYING to write for me ugh i had the ending set in my mind before i even started writing but there were moments where i jus wanted yoongi and oc to be happy ever after :( but alas, I feel like this ending was far more realistic for them and i couldn’t go against my gut sigh. there may be a few drabbles planned in the future tho to make up for the angst :) Anyway!!! I’ll stop rambling. Thank you for reading this far, if anyone has. TROOPER. love you <3

updated 12/01/19: drabble #1 | drabble #2 | drabble #3 

[exoxobsession]

Spring Days || Chapter 7

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Childhood FriendsAU!, Friends to LoversAU!

Warnings: Death

Pairing: Kai x Ji-Eun (OC)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: Friends become strangers, trust is gone, he betrays their friendship, she moves on. What if they meet again? Will they become friends or stay as strangers with memories?

Part: 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

“A marriage between you two, you and Junmyeon.”

“What? Don’t I get a say in this?” you asked, utterly shocked. As if right on cue, the doorbell rang. Your mother moved to open while you just stared at your dad and Chae-young, who looked as shocked as you. You heard shuffling from the corridor soon after you were seated. You did nothing, just played with the food, appetite long gone. Junmyeon was like your brother. Did he know about this? Was he okay with this?

“Junmyeon, I’m sure your father told you about the alliance?” your father said, but it came out more like a question. Junmyeon looked at you, “Uh- y-yes, but I never looked at her that way. So I’m not sure where that’ll go.” this made you look at him, finally! You were glad he didn’t want this either. “What do you-” your mother asked, but you cut her off, “Me neither if you and his dad are great friends, then shouldn’t you two be okay with whatever alliance you have without marriage?” you asked glancing, at your father finally getting your thoughts out. "Ji-Eun don't talk like that-”

“Plus, I have no interest in marriage and not arranged. I don’t want to be some contract,” you added. Everyone was shocked. “We’ll discuss this later, eat.” your father calmed you down. Fiddling more than eating, you gave up.

“Junmyeon, Ji-Eun follow me.” your father gestures to his office. “So you don’t want this?” he starts, which makes you both shake your heads. “Okay, reasons?” he raises his brows. “I’ve already told you my reasoning during dinner, Sir,” Junmyeon says to which your father nods. “Yours then?” he looks at you, gaze softening the second he sees your pout. “One: I don’t wanna get married yet. Two: Never to Junmyeon, no offense.” you say turning to him, “And three: I don’t want to be a contract!” you say firmly.

“Okay.” your father says shocking both of you. “Okay?” you repeated, “It was that easy!” you added, and your father just nods. You both left the room shocked. “Do you think it’s done? Would they leave it that quick?” he asked you. “Not sure. But… I hope so!” you said you pouted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, going out. “The guys are having a movie night, you should join us.” he offered. “You too,” he said, looking behind you. “Sure,” Chae-young said from behind you. “You coming?” Junmyeon turned to you. “Yeah, I have another way. Oh, and could you tell Chanyeol and Baek to come to Jongin’s room? Just them both.” you requested.

Looking at you weirdly, he walked away. Grabbing Chae-young by the wrist, you led her to your room. “Why are we here?” she asked, confused. Noticing that Jongin’s bedroom window was opened, you saw two silhouettes walk in and turn the light on.

“Yeol, Baek!” you exclaimed to get their attention. “Ji-Eun? What are you- no don’t tell me you’re going to jump in?” Chanyeol shouted at your stupidness. “You’re what?” Baekhyun and Chae-young said at the same time. “All you need to do is pull me in, okay?” you said with the dumb brain of yours. “I’m not sure…” Chae-young sounded behind you. “It’s fine, it’s just a tiny leap. You’ll be fine, I promise,” you promised her.

“You better catch me!” you yelled before swinging your legs to the other side. Chanyeol pulled you by the waist and Baekhyun secured your arms. You yelped when you stepped on a toy car and you lurched forward, hitting the ground. “I’m coming…” Chae-Young said from the other side as Chanyeol helped you up.

“I’ve got you,” Baekhyun said as he helped Chae-Young in. “Your so lightweight, do you even eat?” he asked Chae-young to which she just gave a weak smile. “Let’s go down.”

Taking your usual spot on the couch, you got hooked to the tv. Meanwhile, Chae-young looked around and the only spot was beside Baekhyun on the ground.

The killer was going to the main lead, the knife already stained with blood. The scene growing intense each second, there was going to be a jump scare as you prepared yourself for it. Shutting your eyes right at the moment, but you heard a scream, but it wasn’t from the tv, it was right beside you. It was so girly that everyone started laughing. Looking beside you, you saw it was an embarrassed Jongin.

You don’t know when you slept, but the shoulder looked so inviting, and the sleep was coming in. The next morning you woke up in your old bed, right beside Chae-young. She was awake, though. “Ji-Eun, where are we? Did we get kidnapped,” she questioned you. “No. We’re still in Junmyeon’s!” you said, looking at the time on your phone. “It’s 5 am. We should go back before mom and dad realize,” she said, stirred up and out.

“Let’s wake Chanyeol up,” you spoke, which she just shook her head. You raised your eyebrows as if questioning her. “We’ll wake Jongin.” You just gaped, slightly shaking your head. But you knew she would be wrong. It was impossible to wake him up.

As you said, he wouldn’t get up, and he wasn’t alone in his bed either. Chae has been shaking him up for 7 minutes now. “See?” you gestured. “You try.” she pushed you forward. “Jongin.” you called out softly, and he just stirred a bit and murmured something along the lines, ‘go away Ji-Eun,’ Sighing, “Jongin, just wake, hm?” and that’s when his eyes fluttered open. “Ji-Eun.” he sluggishly, and you stepped back.

“Can you help us go through?” Chae-Young asked. “Sure,” he said, still sleepily. He first sent Chae-young through. Then for you, you held your hand up to signal him you could alone. “Wait.” he caught your wrist, preventing you from making any more moves. Chae-young from the other side smiled and murmured ‘just talk’ and walked out of your room.

“What?” you asked, your voice slightly wavering. “Just let me explain,” he said, giving you the puppy eyes he knew which would tip you off. “Then explain, explain why you ghosted me for over three weeks.” your voice cracked, and you didn’t continue letting him take over.

“I was scared. Minji told me she loves me, she’ll go to any lengths to have me. I was naïve, and I got scared. Then she mentioned your name one day with her friend, so I thought-” his voice cracked. “-you thought that she’ll hurt me, and you thought-” you were going to finish when he cut you off. “I thought it would be good if I ignored you.”

“That’s stupid,” you said bluntly. “I know, I should’ve told you.” Jongin breathed as he looked sideways. “Then, why didn’t you call me for the past two years?” you asked. “It’s not something to talk about over the phone,” he explained. “You’re an idiot,” you said as you hugged him, finally content. “I know, but you still love me,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I shouldn’t forgive you that easily for something like that.” you pulled back and declared. “Goddammit! You just made up Ji-Eun! Fight later.” Chen whined from the bed. “Help me through.” you smiled, and he lifted you over.

When you came to your side, you waved him a bye and fell on your bed, giggling like a teenager. You might’ve forgiven him too quick, but you were impatient. And Minji, you swore to yourself that you’d kill her when you see her next time.

Just as your eyes were closing, Chae-young came and jumped on you. “Looking at your smile, I think you guys fixed it?” she teased. Turning away from her, you buried yourself in your blankets and finally slept.

“Ji-Eun, Chae-young, wake up!” you heard someone call out, but you didn’t wake up, turning over to Chae-young you draped your leg over hers.

You woke up to no one beside you, so you woke up. After freshening up, you went down to get some breakfast, but the air was awkward. They all looked at you as you sat down, and Chae-young was in tears. You assumed the worse. You looked at your parents, tilting your head, silently asking what happened. They just looked down, and you understood. In an instant you wrapped your arms around her hoping to soothe her, now she can she’s lost everything.

Your parents held the funeral. Even you were affected, you tore up because you saw this woman as your grandma. You held Chae-young’s hand in your and she offered a weak smile. The one you knew too well, the fake one she would give, but you didn’t call her out. Nobody special came it was just you and your family, after all, she didn’t have any family. Just thinking about them made you angry.

[vanzhuo]

do you have any tips on how to start a writeblr, specifically how to meet more people and make some cool mutuals? :D i wanna start a writeblr but i don’t know anyone from the community and i feel like it’s not as fun without friends :(

ok so hey, first of all, i’m not good at articulating my thoughts well but here it goes -- there isn’t any one way to start a writeblr. when i’d started mine, i lounged around idly for a couple of months reblogging things from other writeblrs. when i finally mustered up wits to post an intro, some writeblrs reblogged and boosted it so that’s how many people found my blog. but like, at the beginning, i was clueless enough (don’t you dare laugh) to ask @semblanche what a taglist was because i was confused about why everyone was asking to be on it. so yeah. i’m gonna jot down a couple of things you should do if you want to like join the community under the cut since this is getting too long and you should all be saved from making the same mistakes i made at the start. and of course, some tips on networking around the community and finding new mutuals!

1. make an intro post. so the one thing i’ve learnt after changing blogs twice is, make an intro post you are satisfied with. it can be simple one, a text post where you use the header option to announce your writeblr (ex. if i were to make an intro, i’d say kalki’s writeblr) and then i’d put in my name, the kind of stuff i like to read, the kind of stuff i like to write and the wips i am writing. point is, it should be something you like, something that tells something about you. like the first time i did this, my intro said: this girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. the second time: she’s being too pretentious, move on people. so on and so forth. some people prefer using fancy images (i am some people) to introduce their blogs with an image post instead, but you’re fine with or without. one thing you should keep in mind is to like tag a few of your favorite blogs. i didn’t do this the first time round because i wasn’t sure what exactly i was doing but you should all know that if you tag your favorite blogs, then those blogs will (mostly, sometimes mentions mess up like it does with me and tumblr doesn’t notify you about being tagged) definitely reblog and boost it. that way, a lot of people will, if not engage with you, then at least know of your existence. here’s my intro post for this blog, if you want. it’s not very, um, formal because i was sleepy and thought it was funny. 

2. don’t be discouraged by the amount of notes on your intro. listen, i know we’d all feel bad if we had like 7 likes and 2 reblogs alright but don’t be discouraged. i mean now that i go back, my intro post has only about 36 notes. it really just depends on the timing. however, when you start posting content, those 10 people who’ve interacted with your post will like it and will reblog it for everyone to see and when people start seeing your content, they get interested and slowly, you’ll have more people to interact with and more people will discover your content and i think what i’m trying to say is that, the note count does matter but don’t be discouraged if it isn’t enough. it’ll take time but you’ll find a solid footing really soon, writeblr’s a really warm engaging place minus the anon hate people get sometimes. (see: @inheriting. all queen elle did was breathe, guys.) 

3. interact with other people and their content. so yes. it’s not a one side deal. if you want people to find your blog, you’ll have to start looking for more content too. when you see something good, reblog it or comment on it or even send an ask telling them it’s god tier content. that stuff makes up half the amount of serotonin in our brains. seriously. there’s nothing writers like more than people reblogging their posts with incoherent screaming or coming into their asks to tell them something they think is funny. you could even post something like: hey, i’m a new writeblr and i’m looking for content like (enter the genres or tropes you prefer) and if you have wips similar to this, then pls reblog this with their tags. i wanna start engaging more. something like that. yeah.

4. message other writeblrs? ok so this is a thing that i would not recommend doing ONLY because sometimes everything gets lost in my notifs and i don’t see messages for days and i know other writeblrs probably face this too. tumblr automatically reads them and doesn’t lmk and stuff like that. and secondly, most of us don’t really, like, answer dms all the time. sometimes i got something important to say so i’ll go to minnie @medusaswrites or to chel @starshots and scream about it and then when the topic of conversation closes, and it gets awkward (i do this so many times you don’t even know) we go back to ghosting private messages and instead blasting each other’s ask boxes with love. that’s just how this stuff works. but there are plenty of writeblrs who aren’t awkward with private messaging and they will LOVE to talk to you so there’s also that. honestly, i don’t know where i’m going with this so i’ll stop now. 

5. graphics and other things. ok so the main part, and the most important part, about a writeblr blog is the writing. so you’re a good writer, you’re a great writer. that’s not all though. sometimes you need to organize your blog. you use coded tags like tags for a particular character (say, my character tag for katya is oc: katya) and tags for a particular wip and inspo tags, resources tags, aesthetic tags, etc. this helps you organize your blog better. and finally, look, i know most people can’t do photoshop, either because it’s too expensive or too complicated and i get it. photoshop isn’t required honestly, there are tons of other things you can use. what mostly attracts attention is how attractive a blog can be. the layout for your blog for one. the picspam for your wip intro. that sort of thing. they are a couple of apps on phone that are free to use like picsart and canva (it’s on web too and honestly, the one thing you should use. it’s not like photoshop but it does the job and it does the job really well. if you want to ask someone about canva, you should go to raye @vigilantscar. she isn’t a writeblr but she’s good in that department.) also, if you’ve got something to ask about layouts or simple intro post demos and arrangement or the kind of pictures you should choose for them then slide into my dms, i’ll be happy to help.

i think that’s all? like true, writeblr isn’t fun without friends but this community is so nice and open that anyone can join anytime and you’d feel welcome. i also feel like i’ve not been able to get a few points across without sounding ignorant/awkward? or like i might have forgotten a few things? but honestly, i just woke up. also, i’m gonna tag a few blogs here that you should check out for good content in no particular order: @starshots @medusaswrites @carumens @vandorens @liarede @aelenko @inesnenci @kiesinger @medeaes @noloumna @emdrabbles and @inheriting. there are tons of other writeblrs with good content that i’m pretty sure i, with the memory of a goldfish, forgot to mention but. yeah. if you ever get round to posting an intro, tag me! i’ll be happy to interact! 

[crazycookiemaniac]

Omg why are you losing so many followers youve been drawing gay shit for forever??? (Or maybe i as a gay was just interpreting it that way)

Because I literally spammed people every day for one week lmao. And also, a lot of people follow others for specific content. The moment I stop drawing that exact thing they followed me for, they unfollow me. There are also accounts that follow just to make you follow them & if you don’t, they unfollow you after a while. There’s people who followed me for haikyuu & weren’t interested in BC content, and there were people who followed me for BC content but got showered in gay art instead and that was not their cuppa tea. 

But mostly, i start appearing on people’s feed the more I post. So having me post incessantly for one week made me show up on feeds that I hadn’t shown up for  a good while, so there were probably people who forgot they had followed me in the first place & me posting was a reminder to unfollow.

Truthfully, follower counts are dumb. Yes, it is important for you to have a high follower count for you to get attention, but the amount of people actually following you if you don’t have a consistent art style & rarely ever post something with different vibes than your usual ones, is equal or less than 1% of your total amount of following.

My instagram tells me I have 43k. I do not have 43k people following me. I’ve had 43k that once saw my account & pressed the follow button, but their feeds are filled up with other people’s accs that interest them more than mine (as well as my own feed does not show all the content of the 200+ something people I follow, unless I scroll down till the depths of hell to find every single post on that day and then do so on the next day as well).

Essentially, 95% of your followers are there because of content. They want to see what entertains them. Most of them don’t care about the artist and don’t interact with them at all. Many of them are scared to, given the high follower count. Social media & big accounts make people forget that there are other, real, living & breathing people that are behind them all.

So, to many, I was just a random artist they found and “lol”ed at one of my comics & pressed follow without thinking about it. Most of them don’t go to my account and see all other art I’ve posted to see if they actually like what I do, or me as a person and as an artist at all.

People who don’t know this get really discouraged when they don’t earn a lot of followers, or when they lose a lot (like I did). And some people think you gotta have hundreds of thousands to be famous. I’ve seen accs going around that paid for ads, that had over 150k followers and less than 1k likes on their posts.

Truly famous, loved, growing and/or steady accounts have an amount of likes per post proportional to their follower count. For example, if someone has 150k followers, most of their posts will vary from 20k to 100k likes.

When I was growing my account because I hopped in the fandom bandwagon and stupid little me didn’t know that would only make me crash later, I had like 20~30k and some of my posts reached more than 20k likes (because people liked my stupid comics). Nowadays, I’m not part of the fandom that made me grow anymore. I’m part of a very underrated one (Black Clover), as well a I am drawing a very underrated ship (LuGna) that above all else is getting hated on. I have everything against me in this, so it’s no wonder I lost so many followers.

They didn’t wanna see gay art. They didn’t wanna see Black Clover. They didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. Not everyone paid attention or kept up with my warnings. Despite me explaining multiple times in multiple posts what the Thunder Flames project was about, a lot of people still didn’t know what I was doing that for.

The thing about being a big follower count is that, unless you’re actually loved for what you do (and to do that, once again, I need to emphasize that you need to keep a steady rhythm, a steady vibe, a steady you. Because people follow you for your first impression on them, and you gotta keep up to that first impression if you wanna keep your followers.

I’m unsteady. One look at my gallery and you’ll see how disorganized everything is. Oh, lookit, a 1 min speedpaint of a random drawing I did on an old piece of paper! And right on the left there’s a stupid random comic I did–on the right there’s this super detailed, shaded drawing I’ve done that actually looks terrible to me and I will 100% archive it later, and then there’s B&W mixed with gray shaded, flat colored and fully shaded characters of different fandoms + OCs from commissions and whatever else. 

The thing is, I made my follower count based on a fandom, and now that I’m not there most of that follower count does not have me on their feed. And most of them do not want me on their feed. Now, I’m trying to build a follower count for who I am as an artist, because the few people who have actually stayed and followed me throughout the years know how inconsistent I am in terms of art style, fandoms and everything else.

A solution to this would me either keep creating/posting the same thing all over again (just in different patterns), or creating original content (which I do plan on doing at some point). But for now? Since my follower count does absolutely not reflect on how many people actually like me and/or my art, I’m going to be as chaotic as fucking ever and do whatever the fuck I want.

So yes, I do find it comical that I lost 1k followers over this and am not fazed in the very least, especially because I literally foreshadowed losing 1k and hit the fucking jackpot.

The only reason I’m talking about this at all is because 1- it’s impossible not to notice my follower count decreasing, especially because every new 1k I thank people publicly through stories; 2- some people were actually worried I was upset over it and I have to 3- show that I am not, while simultaneously trying to show people that just because you’re losing followers doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what you want to create content to please people. It doesn’t mean you should be upset, and it doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is bad or wrong.

It means you’re fucking renewing your followers & you’ll now grow for what you’re trying to grow for, bitch. That’s what it’s all about.

Obviously, people do take a great risk doing this. I am taking a great risk doing this. I could’ve lost 5k, I could’ve lost 10k. But I only lost 1k! And that’s because I believe in the project I worked on; I knew there were people out there who enjoyed what I was doing and it’s on them that I was focused on. On the people who supported me AND my art, not just that one single funny comic post I did 3 years ago.

This answer is 100% a lot longer than what you could’ve possibly expected for and I am typing this while being awake for more than 24h so I’m sure that I’ve repeated myself a lot and that there are a lotta typos or w/e and I apologize for that!! But I’m too lazy to go back to read everything over & turn this into a neat post & I’m pretty sure I could answer your question in the first paragraph.

Oh and also. Yes. Yes I have been drawing gay shit ever since I’ve become an artist because I’m so fucking pissed at the lack of canon gay content in a way that it’s depicted as a normal fucking romantic couple instead of having eeeeeeeeveryone point their finger to the gay couple and scream “HEY THAT’S GAY!!! THIS CAN’T BE PART OF THIS VERY HETEROSEXUAL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS OBVIOUSLY HETEROSEXUAL EVEN THOUGH NONE OF THE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER SAID THAT EXPLICITLY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT THE CREATORS ARE EITHER HETEROSEXUAL OR TOO AFRAID TO LOSE AUDIENCE IF THEY TREAT GAY PEOPLE AS NORMAL PEOPLE!??!! WHAT SORT OF ABSURD NONSENSE IS THAT??!! GAY PEOPLE AREN’T NORMAL!! THEY’RE GAY AND THEY SHOULD HAVE A GAY SHOW JUST FOR THEM IF THEY WANNA GET SCREENTIME” and yadda yadda yadda.

I’m tired of this bullshit. Ever since I was an artist I’ve been rooting for gay ships in shonen manga while knowing they would never happen just because they were gay, and now that we are in our Blessed-By-Satan, Pandemic-Chaotic, What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On, We-Don’t-Know-If-We-Wanna-Go-Back-Or-To-The-Future-Or-Just-IDK-Fucking-Die year 2020, in which the LGBT community is thriving and being louder than ever to fight for our rights, Me, in my twenty four years of fucking age, having gone through several fucking disappointments ONLY regarding this matter, am sitting here on my ass, hopeful as all galactic, glittery shit that for some fucking reason, my new OTP formed by very underrated characters from this very underrated franchise in the southern and western communities, becomes canon because my stupid eyes can see chemistry between them even though those stupid haters’ can’t. But that’s because they’re stupid and homophobic, and they really should just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna dream, I want to believe. Let a bitch pray in peace.

But even if I’m getting ready for disappointment, I’m gonna make this project happen and I’m gonna have a shit ton of artbooks from this Thunder Flames project inside my fucking garage if no one wants to buy them. But I am going to invest a shit ton of money in it and I am going to have these artbooks come to life. Because I am spiteful and petty and homophobes should shut the fuck up, and I wanna do what I wanna do bc as an independent artist, I’m building my future with my own two, very toned and buff by now from all the drawing I did, hands. 

God fucking damn it.

Jesus christ I’m just rambling at this point, I’m so sorry. If anyone ever reads this out of context people are going to be so confused.

But that’s fine. They won’t. You know why? Cuz I got almost 11k followers here on tumblr but less than 0.5% gives a shit that I’m here, so I’m safe.

Have a nice day, drink your water and fuck homophobes. Peace

[rockshortage]

Ok, soooo 3 (I know you already answered this before, but I can't find the post and I can't remember what your answer was ;<;), 8, 10, 15, 16, 17, 21, and 28?

gets asks and proceeds to ignore them for 3 days

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? (Or, if you have one, what’s their voiceclaim?) Can they sing, whistle, or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

This is a different video from the one I linked the first time I answered this, but same guy: https://youtu.be/OMjJSyPTFSg?t=53 this one has a lot of respect women juice in it and I’m living for it Main factors for choosing him are: the age, he’s swiss, and a metal musician. So that gives me good references for just the voice itself, the accent, and some pointers to what the singing voice could sound like. (Could, because the style of metal is a bit different from what Hector would mostly be into, including the singing, so idk dude) I haven’t had a ‘oh this one is PERFECT’ moment with this voice claim, so if that ever happens I might change it, but I doubt it tbh.

Hector can sing pretty well, it’s something he’d do a lot while working on projects at home. Singing/growling/screaming along to music he’s listening to a lot, so he might as well work on getting good at it. He can whistle fine as well, doesn’t do very often though. Can’t do the loud ‘come here’ whistle. Can absolutely roll his ‘r’s. As for the accent, the voice claim one goes in the right direction. Hector’s would be messier though because of all the different influences of people around him.

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

Always busy, mostly inward focused. Thinking about what he’s been working on, the last conversation he had and how that could have gone better or the next conversation he’s gonna have to have with one of the bosses.

10. Who’s the first person your oc goes to to talk about something that made them happy? Sad? Angry?

The best bet for Hector actually voicing emotions is MAAK. Not a person exactly, so idk if you wanna let that count, but if it’s something that bothers him on a deep level, the robot is the only thing he’ll vent at voluntarily. For lighter stuff-  sure, he’ll go bitch to Gage about mildly annoying things that he already knows bother him, and if Hector’s excited about having completed some kind of gizmo he’ll show that to Gage too, or Butch if they’re around. Basically: positive emotions mainly go to Gage, Butch and Darryl, same for lightly negative things. Things on a deep seated level go to no one / MAAK / the fog crawler maybe. And this is a spontaneous thought, but it’s possible that over time he manages to get more communicative with Darryl about those things. He still won’t be great at it and will probably need a beer or two beforehand, but I could see him learning a bit of healthy communication with her.

15. What’s your oc’s morning routine like?

For 15 and 16, we’ll just pretend he has a proper sleep schedule and assume he’s safely at home, because there are so many things that would vary a lot depending on where he is.

Depending on how tired he is, he’ll either try to get 5 more minutes or just roll himself out of bed. Get MAAK out of standby, give him a little pat and maybe a tin can to devour, then shuffle on over to take care of hygiene stuff – brush his teeth, wash his face, tame the bedhead, put on a little cologne. Then it’s coffee time, which he will have on the couch or at a desk if there’s a busy day ahead. He’s not much of a breakfast eater, but if he knows he’ll be out and about the entire day, he’ll just have to force himself to eat a proper meal. Whether he gets fully dressed (minus mask) before or after breakfast depends on the mood, can go either way.

16. What’s your oc’s nighttime routine like?

He’s more of a shower in the evening kinda guy so that’s usually what he does. Generally only after he knows he won’t be needing to get back out onto the patio anymore, or if it’s already so late that it doesn’t matter. Because then he can change into some more comfortable clothes (sweatpants/sweatshirt) while he winds down for the night. Then it’s journal time, in which he writes down stuff he hasn’t already over the course of the day and review his notes. Might talk to MAAK a bit while he does that, because why not. If he’s not tired enough yet he might pass the time with some tinkering, reading a book, listening to some music, etc. until he is. Then MAAK gets a good night pat, is put into standby mode, and it’s sleepy time for Hector too.

17. If your oc had a social media page, what would it be like? What would they post about? How much personal information would they feel comfortable posting on it? How often would they update it?

I know I’ve already written most of this stuff down, but I can’t remember whether it was public or just in a private conversation between you and me….

It wouldn’t have much of a structure, neither in content nor update schedule. He’ll post about whatever’s interesting to him or he feels like sharing. Usually stuff that isn’t really pre-planned, so for example an instructional video on how to program a robot to do X will involve him trailing off and talking about some other thing or go on a rant about X decision in Robot Design that really annoys him, and if Programming Language did Y instead of Z it would be so much easier and so on. other flavors of content:

blurry picture of big dangerous creature taken from way too close

making horrible food creations

followed by best of compilation of angry comments

feeding MAAK various things

How To Swear In Swiss German

Signs written by raiders, now with even more spelling errors and funky phrasing

Like with Darryl, the rare actual nice picture of a person because I’m a sucker for that concept. Such as: Darryl smiling. Gage and Butch being cute together. Lily playing with a pupper. And other such soft gooey things

But also the occasional Old Man Selfie (you know like those facebook profile pictures) with annoyed Gage in the background

21. What’s a fact you haven’t shared about this oc?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh he’d be bi I guess? Effectively ace thanks to Trauma™, and while his interest in anything sexual wouldn’t be much higher even if that trauma wasn’t a thing… he might have at least had a little more opportunity to figure himself out

28. What’s your favorite thing about this oc?

How far he’s come. I mean that mostly on a meta level, because he’s the first OC I decided to stick with, and it’s so nice to see that other people like him too and now he not only has an in-world ‘place’ and backstory and everything (that keeps getting more complex), he also co-exists in that world with your OCs and that makes everything feel so much more alive than I ever could’ve hoped for at the start, and it’s just so much fun 😘

But I mean in the story itself he also comes very far. Going from introverted nervous mess who couldn’t hope to train a dog to still introverted nervous mess but managing to become pretty competent at leading that big ol raider empire

[agemnor]

Thank you so much for tagging me @haoranghae haoranghae you’re an angel!

20 questions tag

1. what do you prefer to be called name wise?

My name is Morgane so you can call me that if you want, my friends also call me Morgani ^^ But like if you want to give me a nickname go for it, I live for that shit.

2. when is your birthday?

June 16th!

3. where do you live

France

4. three things u are doing right now?

listening to Turn back time, thinking about learning a new language (but I don’t know which one yet), and stressing about getting my exam results.

5. four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

I’m been listening to some Everglow and The boyz’s songs so I would like to know more about them. I’ve been really into Hands up by Cherry Bullet and Scream by Dreamcatcher, I need to stan more gg so yeah I think I’m really gonna look into them (especially Dreamcatcher, from what I see, their concept looks really boom.).

6. how’s this pandemic been treating you?

I realised how much I really loved being able to live alone and to just live my life instead of having to line with my family.It was a real hell living with my two brothers, I cannot stand them. I miss my friends too :(. However I’m glad that I had the chance to be safe and that no one that I knew got sick.

7. a song u cant stop listening to right now?

Like I said Scream by Dreamcatcher! But also Sleepsong by Bastille, I really love their songs and honestly All this bad blood was really the album that got me through those past few months.

8. recommend a movie

I just realised how long it has been since I’ve watched a movie lol. Most of the times I need to do something while doing it so I’m lost in the plot and stop watching it. But I would recommend Anna Karerina, I really love this movie, and basically any Barbie movie, you can never go wrong with them.

9. how old are u?

18 but like 19 in our days.

10. school, university, occupation, other?

I’m in my first year of University (I’m doing a Letter (?? Is this how it’s called in english) major). I’m also searching for a summer job, please pray for me.

11. do u prefer heat or cold?

Cold! Listen being hot is just so inconvenient like there are so many layers of clothes that you can take off, it’s harder to breathe because there is like no air and there are flies everytime you eat. When you’re cold you put on a sweatshirt, you cuddle and it’s okay!

12. name one fact others may not know about u

I had to think a lot about this one, I’m not that interesting ^^ But I really like sewing! Especially making plushies! (I’m not really good at it yet but it’s something that I’m really interested in.).

13. are u shy?

It’s not that I’m shy, it’s that I hate being the center of attention and I’m always afraid to bother everyone so it’s rare that I’m the person to take the first step.

14. do u have preferred pronouns?

she/they

15. biggest pet peeve?

When people don’t clean up after themselves!! Especially when you just organised everything!! I also hate when people talk for others, like no you don’t live in their brain, you don’t know what they think, they can talk and say what they want to say.

16. what is your favorite ‘dere’ type?

I had to look it up lol. Deredere and Kuudere I think

17. rate your life 1-10, 1 being rlly crappy and 10 being the best it could ever be

6? I don’t know, this quarantine really put me in a weird place where I lost interest for anything and I don’t know where I am in my life but at the same time I’m content? idk. But I started to think about projects that I wanna do this summer, to become more motivated so we’ll see ^^

18. what’s your main blog?

I only have one so it’s this one!

19. list your side blogs and what they’re used for?

I used to have one when I first started and tried to gif, but I think I only posted two gifsets on there before deleting it.

20. is there anything u think people need to know about u before becoming friends with u?

(oof I’m the same about the responding thing) I don’t know, I think that at first I seem very closed but it’s just because I don’t know you and I’m afraid of saying/doing something wrong, but once you know me I’m very loyal.

Thank you once again for tagging me Jill! I was fun! 

I tag @17dad @supermariohrothers @01fly @pja2jae @yixing-zhang @whenxoxosmilesunshines @axizzles @dxzzlinglight @je0nghans @electrofat  but only if you want to oc ^^