#i literally just finished this part a second ago but im probably gonna change it later

[elegyofthemoon]

Last Sentence Tag Game: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

Got tagged by @good-beanswrites to do this thank you!!

I uhhh thought why not just share a bit of a song I started today so it's more of a chunk than a line since lines are so. short:

We’re left astray, nothing to say Have we been lost to yesterday? Is there another way? Move on with our days? Through the window, will we just Let time go? Will I know?

in the meantime, hrmm i dont feel like i have a lot of writing buddies here but if yall would want to share! @goldenworldsabound, @bizzyfish, @wearileigh but of course no pressure at all !!

[sylvie-writes]

It’s Just Me

word count: it’s a headcanon and it’s 12 am so quite frankly i don’t know.

warnings: talks of abusive ex, panic attacks. please do not read this if said topics will upset you.

request:

a/n: this is part 6 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. (literally this was from christmas as you can see, so im gonna switch it up a bit) IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND QUALITY. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. please ignore any mistakes, again, it’s 12 am.

today you had convinced steve to go shopping for a new wardrobe.

although it was no secret that he was literally a man out of time, you still wanted to dress him fashionably.

tony had made a bet with you the other day that you couldn’t get steve into modern clothes aside from dad-style apparel.

being the competitive person you are, you took on the challenge, putting a nice crips benjamin bill on the line.

steve only agreed because he, too, wanted tony to lose this bet.

yes, the avengers were a bit too competitive, but now is not the time to life coach.

you and steve perused through the racks of clothing in every department store.

it always seemed to be the same though.

you’d send him in with ten hangers and he’d probably only come out with one if you were lucky.

fortunately, one article of clothing here and there was more than enough to compile an outfit for steve.

just as you and steve walked into the footwear store, you recognized an all too familiar face.

the excitement in your body had been instantly replaced with fear.

your ex.

of all places to run into to someone, and of all people too.

your ex who wasn’t just anyone.

they had done unforgettable things to you mentally and it had stuck with you since.

until you met steve, you thought that was love.

but it was quite the opposite.

steve noticed your sudden change in mood and flipped like a light switch into his protective mode.

“(y/n), honey, what’s wrong?”

your breathing was starting to pick up little by little and this point and steve could tell something was truly wrong.

before things escalated, you were able to get the words to escape, “it’s my ex.”

steve had heard all the stories that made him red with anger.

he wanted nothing more to sink his fist straight into your ex’s face after all the things done to you.

you were the love of steve’s life and he couldn’t bear to think that someone would treat such a sweetheart like you so badly.

steve didn’t like bullies and he especially didn’t like this one.

your ex started moving closer and closer as they scanned through the aisles.

luckily they hadn’t seen you until you peeped out a few noises of fear.

tears were steaming down your face and your body was shaking.

this all happened as steve was about to march on over and wail this ninny straight into the ground, but the second he heard your sniffles, he immediately softened.

steve went forward to embrace you, but you flinched.

“my darling, it’s just me. it’s just steve.”

you looked up and he placed his hands on your face to calm you, ignoring the audience.

the audience unfortunately included the knucklehead that was your ex as they smirked upon seeing your reaction and knowing they were the cause.

steve had a few choice words he wanted to use towards the perpetrator, but he knew better than to inflate the situation.

it would be like adding gasoline to a fire and steve wasn’t looking for another explosion.

just when you were finally calmed down, your ex had to open their mouth.

“dramatic bitch as always. if i were you, i’d leave her sorry ass.”

steve couldn’t take it anymore.

he gently sat you down on the bench for trying on shoes and civilly walked on over to the ex.

he looked terrifyingly calm like the eye of a category 5 hurricane.

“you know what? (y/n) isn’t dramatic, she’s an outstanding woman, especially after all the shit you but her through.”

seeing as your ex wasn’t going to listen and take what would have been the easy way out, steve decided to open the gate to the high road.

by this, i mean that steve was about to full on uppercut punch this disgrace of a human’s jaw.

your ex was about to make a remark about how steve’s little heartfelt statement didn’t mean anything to anyone, but it wasn’t even begun as steve’s fist connected with their chin.

you watched in shock as your golden retriever of a boyfriend just turned into cujo in a matter of seconds.

“that’s for everything you’ve ever done my girlfriend. don’t you ever mess with her again.”

with that steve walked away and towards you.

he offered his hand to help you up from the bench and the two of you walked out.

you were able to be content knowing that steve would always have your back.

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part IV. (Harry Styles)

hello loves!! thank you so much for the feedbacks on the previous part, i love to see your thoughts at reactions so please keep them coming for the upcoming parts as well! i was informed that the posts weren’t showing up under the hashtags bc i had an extrernal link to the spotify playlist, so that won’t be available in the next parts, but you’ll always be able to find it in the masterpost if you’d like to give it a listen! those were the songs i listened to while writing the story! now, i dont want to keep you up any longer, here is part 4, one of my personal favs, and im excitedly waiting for your feedbacks on the post! have a wonderful reading!

word count: 4.5k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Valerie is curiously watching her dad work on the portable bed they’ve brought over for the night, her little hands clutching onto Rosa’s shirt as she is telling you all about the list she has made for you. It’s not a long one, but you try to focus on every word she says, making sure you won’t mess anything up.

“I put an X behind the important ones,” she explains pointing at the paper and you nod, eyes roaming down on the few X’s on the list. “The other ones are just suggestions, things I thought you should know.

“Got it,” you nod again, biting into your bottom lip. Bath time, feeding, sleep time, everything is covered in the list and you’re happy she even mentioned the smallest details. Some things might be natural for her as she’s been doing it for months, but it’s your first time completely alone with a baby. You surely don’t want to mess this up, especially because you want her to trust you and let you look after Valerie more often. They deserve a break now and then.

Steven finishes the bed and backs out a few stuffed animals along with two blankets into it, making it look cozy and familiar for Val.

“But most importantly,” Rosa starts and you look her in the eyes. “Call us anytime if you need help or want us to take her home, and I mean it.”

“Not gonna happen,” you shake your head, earning a sigh from your sister.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We are thankful for the help, but it’s not your duty, alright? Just call us anytime, really.”

Nodding your head you flash a smile at her, knowing well nothing on Earth is gonna make you call them tonight. Okay, maybe there are some cases when you would call, but those are quite unlikely to happen.

She hands Valerie over who curiously eyes you before grabbing a handful of your shirt and making herself busy with the fabric.

“It’s gonna be fine. Have a great night, you deserve it,” you smile at them. Steven straightens up and curls an arm around Rosa’s waist as they watch Val in awe, clearly a little worried they are gonna spend an entire night without her, but you can tell they also can’t wait for some alone time.

“Alright, we should get going,” Rosa sighs and stepping closer she kisses Valerie’s head and then your cheek as well. “Have fun with your aunty! We’ll be back for you in the morning, Sweetie.”

She runs her hand over her little head and Valerie smiles at her happily, completely oblivious to what’s really happening. The joys of being just a baby!

Steven says goodbye to her as well and you all head to the door. 

“So, we’ll be here around eight, she is usually up by six. Do you want us to pick her up sooner?” Rosa asks standing at the front door.

“Sooner? I was about to tell you to sleep a little longer, you don’t have to come so early.”

“But we don’t want to take away your whole day, you need to rest too,” Steven explains, worry all over his face.

“Stop worrying about me, I’ll be fine. Just enjoy your night off! Come on, I’m throwing you guys out, time for the sleepover to start,” you tell them, shushing them out the door. 

It takes some time to finally get them to leave, but they eventually do. Then it’s just the two of you, alone for the first time.

“Ready for your first sleepover, Val?” you ask her, standing in the hallway of your apartment. She just stares back at you, saliva drooling from her mouth but even that looks cute on her. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You braced yourself for the worst. Thought about all the possibilities how the evening would go, but you hoped they wouldn't become reality. Unfortunately, baby Valerie had different plans for the two of you.

The first hour goes by fine. You feed her, have a little play time, reading her favorite book to her, but slowly, you notice her losing interest in anything and everything. Soon enough, you see her face distort into a grimace and a few moments later she starts crying and it’s straight downhill from there. 

Nothing can get her to stop. No food, no toy, absolutely nothing. You clown around, trying everything that pops into your mind that would calm her down, but it doesn’t seem like she is about to stop anytime soon. 

You start to panic. Rosa told you how fussy she is because of her teeth coming, but you didn’t think it would be this bad. When she’s been crying for an entire hour straight, for a split second, you think about calling Rosa. 

“No, not gonna do that,” you say, while Val is still screaming in your arms. “Valerie, what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, I promise! Just please stop crying!” you whine desperately, but, no surprise, no answer comes from the screaming babe in your arms, just more tears, puffy eyes and red cheeks from all the crying she’s been doing.

Trying to rock her into calmness you are moving around in the apartment when you hear your phone ringing. You instantly think it’s gonna be Rosa, wanting to check in on you, but how are you gonna answer the call when Valeries is screaming from the top of her lungs? She’ll come to pick her up straight away, no doubt about that.

Rushing into the kitchen you are relieved to see that it’s just Harry calling you.

“It’s not the best of times, Styles,” you sigh as you answer the call and put him on the speaker, leaving the phone on the countertop, so you have both your hands free for Valerie.

“Hey, I was just-- what the fuck is happening?” he asks hearing the deadly cries of Val through the line. “Is that Valerie?”

“It is! I’m looking after her so Rosa and Steven can celebrate their anniversary, but she just wouldn’t stop crying! I don’t know what to do!” 

You’re absolutely desperate. It’s so bad you can feel your throat closing up, nearing the edge of your patience, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, but you tell yourself only one of you can cry at a time and Val has taken that spot quite some time ago, not even giving you a moment to let loose.

“Text me your address, I’m leaving now,” he orders and you snap your head towards the phone.

“What? No, Harry--”

“Just text me the damn address, Y/N!” he barks and the line cuts off right away. 

Your desperation pairs with shock now, not knowing what to think about this short, but quite eventful conversation you just had with him. It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts, but you end up sending him your address. 

Nothing changes in the twenty minutes while you are waiting to hear anything from Harry following your text to him. Valerie keeps crying with three seconds of pauses when she takes a few deep breaths only to start screaming once again. Aside from the headache she is causing you, it’s becoming pretty impressive how long she’s been doing it. You probably would have fainted by now, but it seems like Valerie is running on an endless battery.

“You are really making it hard for me to be a cool aunt, Val,” you mumble, the baby still in your arms as the tears keep rolling down her face. Your light grey shirt is now soaking wet, both from her tears and your sweat from the anxiety she is giving you, mixed with some other things you choose to ignore where they came from.

The doorbell makes you jump, but Valerie doesn’t even bat an eye at the sound, she just keeps going.

“You need to teach me how to have this much energy,” you mumble under your breath as you walk over to the door. 

Opening it you find yourself staring up at Harry who is wearing a brown coat, dark jeans and a black hoodie. If you had to guess what he was doing on this weekend evening you would have said he was out with friends somewhere, picking up girls, but he surely doesn’t look like he was anywhere else than his home, the clothes are hanging messily on his frame, like he just threw them on in a rush.

His green eyes look straight at you at first before moving over to the crying child in your arms. You fully expect him to say something along the lines of “this is the kind of effect you have on others” comment, but it seems like he notices the fear and despair in your eyes and he keeps his mouth shut.

“I honestly have no idea what to do,” you choke out and the tears start flowing from your eyes as well, making Harry have to deal with now two crying human beings.

“Oh my, please don’t cry, I can’t take two crying women at once,” Harry begs as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Turning to face you he reaches for Valerie, you hand her over to him, hoping she would magically stop the crying, but she clearly couldn’t care less.

“Why, can you take one?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you wipe your cheeks.

“Not really,” he admits, making you smile. “So what have you tried?” he asks as he starts swaying and rocking Valerie in hopes of getting her to stop, but not even Harry’s charm stands a chance with her right now. Deep down you’re happy you weren’t the reason she got so fussy and upset, would have been pretty awkward if she stopped the moment Harry took her into his arms. 

“Literally everything,” you huff, shoulders falling forward. “I went over the list Rosa gave me, tried everything, but she wouldn’t stop. She’s teething, but this is… It seems like there might be something else maybe?” you tell him worried that something serious might be behind her behavior. You really don’t want to call and bother Rosa, but you are nearing the point where you’ll give up and ask for help.

“Maybe she needs to be changed?” Harry suggests holding her up, giving her butt a sniff, but you roll your eyes at him.

“You don’t think that was one of the first things I did? She is as clean as she could be. Maybe I should just call Rosa,” you sigh in defeat reaching for your phone but Harry snaps at you.

“No! Don’t, we can figure this out. Steven has been so excited to have a night off, we can’t ruin this for them. Come on, we have to have the slightest parenting skills and solve this without them.”

Nodding you agree with him, but you’ve completely run out of ideas.

“So what do you suggest?”

You can see the gears turning in Harry’s head as he is trying to come up with a plan, but it’s not like either of you have any experience with babies. The idea of calling Rosa is starting to burn in the back of your head, fear of failing this challenge taking over your thoughts.

Then Harry looks at you with a look that screams that he has an idea. You’re just about to ask what came into his mind when all of a sudden he starts to sing.

“Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water, and I think of all the things what you’re doing and in my head I paint a picture…”

You instantly recognize Amy Whinehouse’s iconic song, the one that’s also behind Valerie’s name, you know that for sure. Rosa was obsessed with the song growing up, she would sing it on the way to school, in the shower or while making dinner. You weren’t surprised she chose this name for her first daughter.

What surprises you that Harry sings like a literal angel. He hits the notes perfectly, nailing the lines like not many can and you listen to him with parted lips, eyebrows raised. This was the last thing you expected from him, but then again, it’s not the first time Harry has surprised you through the years of knowing him.

Valerie stops for a moment, her hiccups shaking through her body as her tear-filled eyes look up to Harry, and you both think this is gonna be the moment when she finally calms down, but he doesn’t even reach the chorus before she starts crying again, a defeated sigh erupting from him.

“Maybe she wants it instrumental,” you suggest and Harry gives you one of those ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ looks as you leave to run down the hallway, right into your bedroom.

“How am I supposed to make it instru-- what the hell, Y/N?!” He gives you a weirded out look when you return with a guitar in your hands. “Since when do you play the guitar?” 

“Since like… eighth grade,” you tell him as you sit on the couch and holding the guitar on your lap you try to find the right accords. “I told you, you know nothing about me.”

Harry nods with a surprised but amazed look on his face as your fingers strum against the chords. It takes a few minutes but you figure it out and glancing up you give a questioning look to Harry.

“From the start?” you ask and he nods his head, continuously bouncing up and down to try to calm Val down.

You start playing the song and soon enough Harry joins you with the singing, the two of you perfectly nailing it even without any practice.

“Stop makin’ a fool out of me, why don’t you come on over, Valerie?”

Maybe it’s the guitar, maybe it’s the singing or maybe the fact that the song has her name in it, but by the time you reach the halfway point in the song Valerie’s crying slowly starts to fade. You instantly share a look with Harry, but don’t stop, fearing that she might start again if the music stops. 

Her tear soaked cheeks smooth out as she is not screaming anymore and you can actually see her irises finally, her long lashes are sticking together from the salty tears and you know it’s gonna take some time for her to regain her normal state, but at least the crying has stopped. 

“‘Cause since I’ve come on home, well, my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your ginger hair and the way you like to dress…”

You tear your eyes off Valerie for a second, letting yourself wander over Harry’s features as he sings. He slightly furrows his eyebrows focusing on the lines, so his forehead has a few creases on it. His lips form the words so clearly and elegantly, you wonder how often he sings. Is it something he only does when he is on his own or he likes to perform as well? 

The only time when you heard him sing was at the bar when the two of you slayed the karaoke machine with that Avril Lavigne song. You were smashed by then, you remember that he had a nice voice but it was the last thing you paid attention to. Besides, he was kind of equally drunk as you, it was all for just fun, but now is a completely different situation. 

It’s no surprise Valerie finds his voice soothing, you’d probably stop whatever you were doing if you heard him sing. There are people with a good voice and then there are the ones that not just have a good voice but also that small something, that extra magic in them that makes you melt as their voice caress your ears. Harry is definitely the second case, for a moment you forget where you are or why he is there singing. It’s just his voice and the gentle strumming of your fingers on the chords. 

At the end of the song he starts repeating Valerie as the song slowly fades into nothing and you both stare at the little girl in his arms, clearly afraid she might start crying again. Unfortunately, your reservations become valid when you see the corners of her mouth curls down and you and Harry share a shocked look immediately.

“What else can you play?” he urges as Val whimpers in his arms, letting you know she does not appreciate that the singing has stopped. 

“Shit, shit! Um, something from ABBA?” you propose and Harry nods quickly, not even asking which song you know, so you take it as a sign that he probably knows all of them.

The first song that comes to your mind is Andante, Andante and you don’t hesitate to start playing again, just in time. Valerie was just about to start crying again, but as soon as the melody hit her little ears she calmed down and listened to it with tired looking eyes.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…” Harry sings the words and you can’t hold a smile back as he, once again, hits the notes just perfectly without missing a beat.

You’re convinced there’s not one person on Earth who has never heard a single Abba song, most of the population knows them by heart, but somehow you couldn’t really imagine Harry to be a person who knows the lyrics to the songs as well. But he does and sings it without messing it up even just once. It’s hard to imagine a younger version of Harry singing ABBA songs when they come on the radio, but the more you think about it the more the picture paints itself in your mind.

Valerie lays her head to Harry’s chest, stuffing her thumb into her mouth as she listens to the performance. She is probably enjoying the vibrance of his voice shaking through his chest and maybe this is what brings her the peace she’s been looking for all this time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of them.

Harry glances at you, eyes so soft you melt under his gaze. However nerve wrecking it was to have Valerie scream for hours, she is still the cutest little thing ever as she rests her head on his chest, her long blinks giving it away she has definitely lost most of her energy. 

You don’t dare to stop the singing and playing. When you near the end of a song you quickly think of something else and whisper it over to Harry, who then gives his feedback on it with either a nod or a shake of his head. Most of the time he knows the songs you suggest so the show continues without a stop. 

Half an hour passes by when you see her eyes slowly closing. You still don’t stop though, only when Harry tries to listen to her breathing and he realizes that it was completely slowed down. She is out.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out quietly, your fingers feeling numb from the playing. You haven’t had a guitar in your hands for this long in a while, probably for years. Harry shares your relief, his throat has completely dried out and he is happy to finally breathe evenly, not just sneak a few breaths in between lines. 

“And now what?” he mouths as he is still gently swaying around with the sleeping Valerie in his arms. You put the guitar aside and check if she is for real asleep. Her long lashes are spread out on her puffy cheeks, gently snoozing into Harry’s chest as if she weren’t screaming for dear life just an hour ago. 

“Let’s put her down,” you whisper and nod at him to follow you. 

Reaching your bedroom you only switch your bedside lamp on so the light doesn’t wake her up. Pushing the stuffed animals to the side you grab the blankets and let Harry do the critical job. Leaning down he oh so slowly starts to pull her away from his chest, careful not to move too suddenly, it all feels like in those action movies when they are trying to get through the lasers without triggering the alarm. One bad move and the screaming threatens to start again and that’s the last thing you want, after all you’ve done to calm her down. 

You don’t even realize it but as you watch her little head reach the mattress you hold your breath, almost wincing upon seeing Harry’s hands slide out from under her sleeping frame. As if you wait for something to go wrong, both of you freeze for a moment, expecting her to start moving around and wake up, but she stays still. 

Eyes snapping up to Harry, you exchange a look and then you both head to the door, careful not to make any noise that can possibly shake Valerie up from her dreams.

“This was more tiring than running a marathon,” he huffs, throwing himself to the couch and you do the same next to him. 

“Have you ever run a marathon?”

“No,” he confidently answers and you look over at him with a puzzled look. “But I can imagine how tiring it is.”

You let out a chuckle, letting your eyes close for just a little bit. You haven’t even had the chance to realize how much this whole struggle with Val sucked the energy out of you, but now that you’re half lying on the couch it hits you all at once.

“I should get going,” you hear Harry mumble, clearly just as tired as you are, but he doesn’t move. 

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself drift to sleep.

Neither of you moves and it doesn’t take a whole five minutes for the both of you to completely doze off.

The next time you wake up you feel an arm curled around your waist and someone is definitely pressed up against you while your back is against the back of the couch. It takes you a couple of moments and some blinking to realize it’s Harry you are all snuggled up to and the reason why you woke up is because Valerie is crying again. 

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself, mind still groggy from the sleep as you push yourself up on the couch. Just moments later Harry’s eyes flush open and you’re not sure it’s because of the crying or because you moved next to him. His arm slides off you as he looks around a little confused about his surroundings.

You don’t have the chance to think about how the two of you ended up cuddling on the couch, though it lingers in the back of your mind. Basically crawling over Harry you rush into your bedroom where Valerie is lying in her bed crying. It’s a different kind of cry, not like the one you were stuck with for hours before and you know she must be hungry.

“Ah, come on, little girl. It’s alright,” you coo at her scooping her into your arms. She immediately cuddles to your chest hiccupping against it, her little hands fisting your shirt. You leave to go to the kitchen and feed her, but just as you’re about to step out of the room you bump into Harry.

You bounce back from his chest, but his hand immediately reaches for you and grabs your arm, holding you in case you might fall back.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, thoughts still foggy a little. “She’s… hungry,” you explain, but he is standing so close to you, you can feel his body’s warmth and it instantly ignites the memory of being pressed against his side on the couch just moments ago and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling a shaky breath. 

“Let me help,” he croaks out and the two of you walk into the kitchen. Putting on her bib you hand her over to Harry who sits with her on his lap on a stoop as you get the baby food, warm it a little before joining the two of them and you slowly start feeding her.

“What time is it?” you ask realizing you have no idea how long you two have been asleep on the couch.

“It’s three am,” Harry answers before smiling down at Val. “Good job, Val!” he hums watching her take the spoon into her mouth.

You finish up feeding her, then give a try at burping her even though Rosa said it’s not necessary anymore. She just hums to herself so you head back to the bedroom, her eyes already threatening to close. By the time you put her back to the bed she is out again, so no private show is needed this time.

Walking out of the room you see Harry putting on his shoes and coat. For a split second you feel disappointed that he is leaving, but then your rational side puts you to your place. Of course he is leaving! Val is fine now, there’s no other reason for him to stay, right?

“Harry,” you softly say and he looks at you. “Can you please not tell Rosa and Steven that I needed help with Val?” you quietly ask, though there’s no doubt your eyes are practically begging him.

“No way I’ll ever admit to Steven that I sang ABBA to his child, so don’t worry about it,” he chuckles making you smile as well. 

“Thank you. And for helping me as well. I was really close to giving it up,” you admit folding your arms on your chest as Harry stands at the front door, hand on the door knob as he is looking back at you.

“No problem. Now you owe me one,” he smirks and you can’t hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

“Sure,” you say with an airy chuckle. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he smiles at you sweetly before opening the door and walking out. 

You take his place at the door and watch him walk down the eerily quiet hallway. He turns back to you one last time waving in your way and you nod back smiling before he disappears around the corner.

Closing the door you lean your back against it, taking a deep breath. Your eyes wander over to the couch where you and Harry were sleeping not so long ago. The feeling of his arm around you is still burned into your mind and you breathe in shakily as a memory snaps into your head of the exact same thing, only years earlier.

You lied almost exactly like that in his hotel room that night. His strong arms wrapped around you as you had your head laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was slightly faster than the normal. Though you were still quite drunk, this feeling imprinted into your memories, because you felt so safe with him. Like nothing could ever hurt you if he was there with you.

Unfortunately, that feeling faded into nothing when you woke up in the morning quite fast. But this time, instead of disappointment and disgust, the only thing you still feel is the emptiness at the lack of his touch. 

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[ganondoodle]

Ok super curious about your kogha backstory- care to tell?

alright im gonna try and summarize it (bc of course i have it as a movie in my head) but prepare yourself bc its the vaguely connected to lore stuff thats probably typical for me now lmao

- he was part of the group of sheikah monks 10,000+ years ago that were trained to go into the shrines you find in botw

-he was kicked out after he was challenged by maz koshia to a fight and nearly killed him (yeah for some reason i hc koshia as like, the teacher of the group and he wanted to teach kohga a lesson by beating him bc he always acted as if he never listened)

-later, shortly after the other monks that finished their training went to their shrines, the royal family turned on them and started to persecute all sheikah, there were other monks (bc of course they arent gonna all go into shrines without leaving some who can teach others) that believed they could find a peaceful solution, but they were all killed after sending kohga away with some of the most important documents (just to be sure)

-the survivors gathered in a smaller one of their villages (possibly ancient kakariko) while kohga defended them from the hyrulean army (which is what that last painting i did shows) but after he ruthlessly killed many many soldiers the other survivors turned on him too bc they’d rather give up and swear to do anything the king would order them to do than all die fighting

-he was captured and only kept alive bc the king knew kohga had hidden some of their research/knowledge  away and wanted to make sure nothing remained

-before that could happen a few (maybe like 3-5) former sheikah that shared kohgas mindset freed him and ran away together, thats bascially when the clan was founded

- of course they all changed their names and if they went out of hiding were disguised, since kohga was literally the only one left that received the training of monks he was declared the head of the clan (oh right i ..also have the hc that he was called Koji or Kota back when he was sheikah i havent decided which one yet)

-how hes still alive after such a long time ? well, we know that age reversal is possible from purah, but while she used sheikah tech, Kohga back then used somewhat refined malice, in the form of tattoos, to keep himself from aging

( heres a WIP, that i havent finished yet, of those tattoos)

-however, after living for so long time (and those tattoos) did have an effect on him, he has forgotten nearly everything from back when it all started, including alot of his own research; he doesnt know anymore how he managed to do the whole malice tattoo thing (thats partly why he doesnt want link to succeed in botw bc he needs the calamity for trying to research AGAIN how he did it, either for freeing himself of it or doing the same to other clan members that want to)

plus, the reason for why hes always so tired, is bc on one hand he stays up at night to read any older scrolls and documents he can get his hands on in hopes of getting his old knowledge back, on the other hand, the malice in his tattoos feeds of both feelings of hatred/anger AND his life force itself (obviously not too much bc it’d dumb to kill your own host xD ) which is why he constantly looks tired af and falls asleep the second you look away

this is also why he fights so similar to how maz koshia fights (although a bit weaker after everything that happened, but its still the same source) and why the yiga clan is still so obsessed with bananas, bc the ancient sheikah were too (if you give koshia a banana when you fight him he does the same lil dance as the yiga members in the stealth section) and since kohga is from that era its only logical he’d bring it with him

SO THEN yeah thats the basic summary .... i know its pretty wild but hey, i never come up with this kind of stuff willingly, my brain just kinda ... does it (i hate it sometimes ngl)

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (2/2) (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | woooo, part 2 ! as stated previously, this is heavily inspired by @/mystic-sky on tumblr or skyfelt on ao3. amazing writer, check her out (but this isn’t a direct copy, just same storyline in a way). i’m cleaning up my writing a lot, i think. maybe im getting better as well? probably not but uh i kinda gave up at the end and uh.. hope u enjoy.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Voyeurism To Some Degree, Teasing, Ripped Tights, I didn’t proof read. 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom! Gojo x Sub! Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 4561

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | In which you finally get fucked by this mysterious, yet freakishly handsome stranger. That’s it, you just get fucked.

       The first thing you realize is how cold it is.     The wind is working against you, it seems, as you take your first step out of the warm building. Hair blows in every direction, you button up your cardigan, your breath coming out in puffs of smoke. Shivers went down your spine.    Not too far behind you, the mysterious man that you had met just an hour ago trailed behind, winking and waving at the girls confidently using him as eye-candy. Long strides, hands shoved into his pockets.    Your heart swells as you watch other woman stare flirtatiously as he gestured back at them, before their eyes set on you. He followed you like a duckling, and you’re sure to relish in how powerful it made you feel.    He walked like a model, with so much confidence. He didn’t appear as cold, his cheeks were flush and he reeked of fruity sugary alcohol, a playful grin still stubbornly on his face, 5 minutes later.    “Uber should be coming soon... I think, too lazy to check. You cold?” he slurred huskily.    You nod. For a one night stand, he was strangely kind to you.     He doesn’t say anything after that, so you opt to listen to the life around you. The clicking of high heels, the chatter, the drunken rants.     “Aw, come here.”     He didn’t give you much of a choice, though. Pulling you in to his chest, without warning. Your first instinct is to scream bloody murder, but he’s so warm, and you definitely need it.    One loose arm over your figure, his unoccupied arm dangled dangerously close to your butt. Taking in a deep breath, anticipating the feeling of being so scandalous in public, he chuckles breathily, almost like a taunt. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he cleared his throat.    You stare up at him, confused as to why you’re not feeling anything in your lower regions, before you realize what he was doing.    Rubbing your head with the once unoccupied hand, his fingers weaved into your hair as he sniffled. Something about the interaction was strangely intimate, but you don’t dare to say a word.     You inhale sharply, rubbing your face into his chest. You want to get closer, deep in bliss as he seemed to return the want back. You want to close any remaining space between the two of you, but making the first move was scary.    He yawns, and this triggers you to yawn as well. It was probably well past 1 AM by now, and you were tired.    You couldn’t hear much around you other then the honk of the growing sea of cars, some people just starting their night, and the others ending it.     “Oh shit. Our Uber’s here.” he mutters under his breath, pushing you out of his chest gently.    Whining, you try to push yourself back into his arms, he takes a quick glance down at you, traces of a faint lukewarm smile playing upon his lips. Almost like he’s saying, “Are you kidding me right now?” before taking a hold of your hand.     Fingers intertwining as if they were meant to be together, you gawk down at your hands, before looking back up at him.     There were a few issues, one, you had no idea if this man had an intent to kidnap you. Second, you didn’t know what the Uber looked like, and you’re too embarrassed to ask. Third, he was holding your hand with no hesitation, and the feeling in your chest was indescribable.    You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you hope that it’s something along the lines of what you’re thinking. Your eyes briefly flickering over his jawline as you pondered to yourself, but what you do know is that you’re being dragged towards the presumed Uber. It’s sleek, and black, with a glossy finish, you note.    “Yo chill, I’m not gonna kidnap you, missy.” chuckling, examining your doubtful, yet frightened expression. He swung open the car door carelessly.    “After you, m’lady.” he adds, bowing and straightening, his chin up.     “Thank you, Sir Mysterious.” you give him a small smile before sliding into the sleek, comfortable seats.     His eyebrow raised, he looked at you.    “That’s a first.”     “It’s also a shit nickname, maybe that’s why you’ve never heard it.” you suggested.    “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.” a lukewarm smile played at his glossy lips.    The sly smile wipes clean off your face, he laughs at you while sliding into his designated seat, as if he owned the car.    Right. You were in a car, and it would be best for you to study your surroundings, just to make sure you weren’t being kidnapped.     The car was obviously expensive, black leather reclining seats, and a sweet offering of warmth against the chill of the midnight air.    A coffee cup idly stood in the cup holder, the driver taking a quick sip and turning his body to look at you two. Air fresheners and various trinkets dangled from the rear-view mirror, swinging back and forth     “A couple, eh? You wanna go to this address?”     The driver whipped his phone out, an address in black, bold text stood out.     “Yep.” the man says confidently.     Opening your mouth to speak, you try to inform the driver that he wasn’t your boyfriend, before your supposed boyfriend covers your mouth with his hand as soon as the driver repositioned towards the steering wheel.     You realize that his other hand is on your thigh, stroking your skin.    This newfound position was at the very least, terrifying. There was another person in the vehicle, for starters, and you weren’t exactly the quiet type when it came to, well, anything in general.     Cold, large calloused hands considerately caressed your thigh, and your breathing hitches. His other arm against his side, but you know his fingers are itching to feel you all over. You want to moan, but the driver’s presence is enough to tell you that it would be stupid.    Fingers drawing shapes, words, anything would repeatedly loop on the sensitive skin just barely. He was definitely teasing you, but you couldn’t quite fight back.    “Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” he whispers, you anticipate the driver to look back at the two of you, and to throw both of you off the car, but he does no such thing.    Feebly, you raise your arm up, ignoring the flirtatious request. Swatting his hand away in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before it got out of hand, but he’s persistent.    It’s getting even more difficult to breathe quietly now, your body getting hotter and hotter and hotter.    It doesn’t take long for a noise to slip out from your lips that you can’t quite shut up, and the driver turns to look at you.     “So precious.” the white haired man mouths to you before quickly turning his head to look at the window, humming to himself, still caressing your thigh.     “Ma’am? Are you okay?”     About to respond, the white haired man scooched closer to you. His clothed leg now rubbing your bare skin. He whistles innocently in the opposite direction before skimming his hand against your inner thigh, and you almost shriek.    Instead, you let out a pathetic gasp.    Panning his gaze over to you, he gives you a sly, playful smirk, before looking away again.    Drawing more shapes onto your skin, he hums. It was so hard to focus, or even remember the words the driver had said literally just a minute ago. You feel yourself shiver, almost losing yourself entirely to his hands before shakily responding to the driver, praying to any divine figure in the skies that you would be coherent.     “Y-yeah. Just, spilled water on m-my clothes.” you reply, barely audible.     The driver’s eyes stared back at yours, concern etched onto his features, before sighing. Tension grew inside of you.    “Alright, if you need anything, just ask, okay ma’am?”     Trying to respond, no sound comes out of your mouth, and the reason dawns on you. Taking a quick look down, the man’s digits were now fumbling with your panties, brushing against your wetness.     It takes a moment for you to register in your brain, you thank every entity possible for preventing the inevitable slew of noises you’d make. Waves of need crashing over your body. You hungrily stare at him, hoping that he’d be kind enough to stop and save it for later.     Circling your entrance through the now utterly soaked panties, he dips his finger in, just enough so you could feel the slight pressure against your sensitive skin.    He’s fucking taunting you again.    Driver be damned, you needed him.    Opening your legs more, you confidently peer at him, inviting him to explore your body even more. His fingers are drumming against the leather surface, the other hand had retreated back to your thigh,  boldly looking at you back.     “No. I thought you didn’t want to, what’s with the change of thought?” he mouths, stifling a chuckle and a smug tone, already knowing what you were going to ask.   Bewildered, you gape at him before shaking your head curtly, making sure you’re staring daggers at his stupidly arrogant face.     “Stop fucking playing with me then!”     “You’re too cute.”    “Fine then.” closing your legs, you stare out the window, your chin sitting on the palm of your hand. Flickering blurry lights passing by quickly. Looking at your reflection, you steal a quick glance at the flirtatious bastard.     “If you’re so angry, why can’t you look away from me for 1 second?” he whispers proudly.    You can’t think of a snarky remark, so you huff and look back at the window defeatedly.    What a cocky arrogant little-    Your bruised pride burning into ashes, you grunt in response before the car abruptly halts to its stop.    Were you two too loud?    “What are you two so scared for? Freezing up like a deer in headlights, we’re at your destination.” the driver said, twisting his head around, his eyebrow slightly raised.     “Oh, yeah, thanks.”     That was way too close to comfort, and you’re resisting the urge of banging on his chest for being so overly confident in his endeavors. You open the car door, cursing under your breath, swinging your legs out and lightly stepping out.     First thing you realize in the new destination? This guy was obviously loaded.     In front of you were a bunch of condos, and it was bound to cost a lot. Modern architecture was all you could see, wide windows and balconies in every corner. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about your outfit, were you too poorly dressed?    The man hums, placing his hand on your shoulder. Plant life was meticulously placed in such a beautiful manner that you promise yourself that you would search up his name- if you ever got it, on the Forbes lists.    “Like what you see?”    Snapping out of it, you look back at him, and you nod, still astounded by his presumed riches.    “Yeah? Lets go up missy, I got more to show, in more ways then one.”  ‧₊˚✩彡.            Standing in front of his door, you realize how quiet and still the atmosphere is. He fumbles with his keys, muttering to himself, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re about to have sex with some celebrity.     Not knowing how to start conversation, you clear your throat.     “You ever going to tell me your name?”     “Aw, the little baby still wants my name.” he cooed    “Call me Gojo.” he adds nonchalantly.    “(Y/N).” you reply, ecstatic. That wasn’t too hard, but you wonder why he didn’t just give up his name to you at the club earlier. Perhaps he didn’t think he was going to take you back?    “Aw, sugar. You scared?” Gojo says, looking you up and down. Well, that’s what you assumed. He still had his glasses on.    “No I’m not, who said that?”    “Look at your legs, missy.” he cheekily replies.    Looking down, you realize you’re violently shaking, and you didn’t even realize it.    “...Maybe.” you say coyly.    He breathily chuckles, finally opening the door with the right key.    You’re surprised by the presence of such a spotless place, a large, plush black leather couch was in one corner, the other, an island. Amazingly large windows replaced what would usually be the walls, and you could see the extent of the city life from where you’re standing.      “Slip your shoes off girly, sandals on the left. Can I offer you something?” Gojo questions you, walking over to the island.     “...I’m not much of a drinker.” you reply, still standing in the doorway. You were honestly more interested in him then the small talk.     “Baby, sit down. Don’t you wanna see me up close?” he pats the cushioned island seats, and you sheepishly walk over.    “I have apple juice too. If that’s more your vibe.” you watched him swirl some melting ice cubes around in a glass of water with a spoon.    “I’m not 12.” you retort, maybe the guy wasn’t a celebrity. No famous guy has apple juice in the fridge, rather then fancy champagne and wine.     Gojo snickers, “Hey, I’m not 12 either, I’m nearing my fucking 30′s but I can never reject a good box of apple juice, plus, I teach a group of kiddos that drink this shit like it’s fine wine.”     You pause, this guy was NEAR 30? He certainly didn’t look the age, and second of all, he bought apple juice just for the kids he taught? That was surprisingly sweet, but that didn’t explain the richness.    “You’re a teacher?” you nod as he hands you a chilled box of apple juice.     “Uh, yeah.” he scratches the back of his neck. “International Japanese teacher, sometimes I just teach in Japan as well. It pays good.”     “No way you actually live here. Is this your friends place?”     He laughs loudly, “So backhanded, and sassy! Nah, this is my place. As I said, job pays well. Feel free to stop by for a good fucking.” he says whilst pouring liquor into his glass cup.    “You’re really confident in your abilities of fucking people.” you sarcastically note aloud as he slides into the comfortable tall stool next to you, drink in hand.    “Hm, you weren’t saying that when I was touching you in that car, brat. How strange.” sipping his beverage lightly.     Your mouth zipped shut, and he laughs again.     “Aw, don’t go all awkward on me.” his once vacant hand now rubbing your shoulder. Setting down his drink, taking off his glasses. He doesn’t give you much time to admire his eyes, but what you can see is an almost aquamarine color, flecks of darker blue sprinkled throughout. So brilliantly colored it didn’t look real.     Before you realize it, he leans closer into your neck, suckling your skin and lightly nibbling. His breath fanning over your delicate skin, you can’t even hold back, gasping a little as his hands played with the hem of your cardigan, tugging at it playfully.     You can’t even formulate words. He was undeniably good, his suckling now gradually getting more harsher and harsher, and you dread coming back to your friends place, neck full of hickeys, you’d be nudged for whoever did that to you for the rest of your life.     He grunts, standing up in the little space between what was his stool and yours, even on such a surprisingly tall stool he still towered over you. He has to slightly crouch before his eyes is at the level of your neck, hungrily crashing back down.      “G-Gojo!” you squeaked, struggling to do much of anything. You’re limp on the stool, slumped and burning up. Your skin was ridiculously hot.     “Hmmm?” he smiles into your neck, pausing momentarily, you can feel him exhale harshly on your skin. You look him up and down, the sexual tension between the two of you was prominent, and so was the tent in his pants.     You feel a whine creep up towards your throat, now realizing just how wet you are. Ignoring this, you gesture to your clothes. The layers were sticking to you, and you never wanted anything more then to just get the sex started.    “...Hot.” is all you can muster pathetically.     “What was, baby?” he coos at you.     “Me.” shrugging off your cardigan the best you can, you let out a subtle whine, the weird feeling growing between your legs.     “Yes, we both know you’re hot.” tipping your chin upwards to look at him, he smiles. “use your words.”     “Clothes.. Off.” you pant, obviously sick and tired of the stupid sexual tension and the teasing.     “Full sentence, girly.” he repeats, stroking your cheek with his thumb.     You inhale his scent, smelling of expensive cologne and lingering sickeningly sweet alcohol. Looking up at him, but averting your gaze as soon as you saw those incredible eyes once again.    “Look at me.” he orders.    You peer up at him, swallowing.     “P-please, take my clothes off.” you say politely.     “All it took was a few hickeys? You really are a pretty kitty.” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Get down.”     You nod obediently, getting off the stool and looking back up at him, anticipating his next step.     He bends down, swooping you up bridal style. One arm under your legs, gripped firmly onto the skin, the other under your waist. Your arms instinctively and rather slackly around his shoulders.     You expect something, a kiss, anything, but all Gojo does is walk down an endless hallway full of doors.     You lean closer into him while pouting, hoping that’ll catch his attention, but he doesn’t say a word.     “Where are we going?” you finally ask, growing needy.    “Bedroom. I’m not fucking on the couch. Pretty princesses deserve to be nice and comfy.” he replies back, fidgeting with the door knob. For a few seconds, all you can hear is how rapidly your heart is beating inside your chest, the rustling of clothes brushing against one another, and then the feeling sets in again.     You could very well be fucking someone that was out of your league.     He breathes a sigh of relief, and before you have the time to fully study his bedroom, he throws you off of the bed with a grunt.     Gojo’s toned forearms by your side, you were obviously trapped. You can see his chain just dangle barely swing back and forth on the tip of your nose, his lips curled into a lukewarm smile.    “You were so cheeky with me earlier, where’d she go?” stroking the corner of your lips.     He doesn’t give you the time to respond, instead locking lips with you and rolling over to be on your side. It starts off small and soft first, but it gradually grew hot. The fluttering in your chest only intensified. Tongues exploring every inch of one another’s mouth, you swear you can taste mint. The anxiety melted off of you like wax, and the only thing he could focus on was how soft you felt against his lips. Delightfully experienced enough for it to be good, but not better then him.    The smell of him was stronger now, and you’re sure you won’t be able to leave without some of it remaining on your clothes. Regardless, it was an addicting smell. Something you needed to come back to. Furiously exhaling through both of your noses, he finally lets go.     Dazed, your whole body tingles. You want him to claim you all as your own, hungrily staring at him for more. Both of you were radiating heat. The kissing left little for thought, and all you can think about is kissing him once again. It seemed that the more you spent with him, the more demand you had for his attention.    “Such cute noises. Makes me want to ravish you more.”     Gojo tenderly pulls you in, claiming your mouth as his once again. Fumbling with your cardigan, yanking it off of your body. Large, hot hands brushing against your now semi-exposed skin, and you know he wants more. His hands brushed against your butt under your skirt, and you shiver just a bit.     Pulling out from the kiss, he looks at you, panting heavily.     “So beautiful.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your swollen lips.     “You wanna know why they call me the best?”     You nod, his arm snakes above your waist, forcefully flipping you down head first into the blankets.     Just now realizing that all your clothes are no where to be found, presumably on the floor, you shiver at the cold air conditioner blowing against you. That is, besides your skirts and your tights.     “On your arms, baby. Knees too.” he instructs, patting your butt.     You obey, a warmth rushing to your cheeks again. He had you like a dog being trained by it’s owner, following their every order.     “Good girl.” he says under his breath.     You’re about to tell him that you’re still wearing tights, about to open your mouth, you heard a loud rip disturb the peaceful atmosphere, and a cold exposure to your lower regions.     You squeal, digging your face into the covers, and he chuckles again.     “Oh baby. You were begging for this, I can see why now.” you felt him drag his fingers against your panties, and you whimper.    “So impatient for my touch, aren’t you kitty? You’ll have to wait.”     About to complain, you look back at him before you find him shoving you down, sitting on your knees now, your nipples hardened in the air, but you want to be stimulated else where.    “Be patient, and you’ll be rewarded, no complaining.”     “But-” he cuts you off.     “Don’t fucking talk over me, you got that?”     “...Yes sir.”      His eyes soften, and he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his hands brushed against your nipples, rubbing them with his thumb. Rolling the sensitive bud, you loudly moan, trying to express that you wanted more.    “God, you’re so cute.” he says under his breath, still rubbing and now slightly pulling them. Placing his mouth upon the abused buds, you stifle a cry out.     Gently suckling, he used his other hand to play with the other attention-starved nipple mildly.     You whine out again, beginning to melt under his stupidly experienced hands and mouth. The attention was nice, but you needed it some place else, his eyes looked up at you, his wet mouth still suckling your breast.     Taking his wet mouth off your nipple, he looked at you, mischief still evident on his face.     “You like that?” he says,  cocking his head to his side.    “I-If I say anything, It’ll fill your stupid ego.” you breathed.     “And if you don’t say anything I’m not doing shit.” his hand now rubbing your butt.     “You ripped my tights!” you spat back.     “I’ll pay for it and more, no bother babygirl. Now tell me what I want to hear.”      He obviously wasn’t lying, he could probably turn any girl into putty if he just wanted to, and here you were, in the palm of his hand.     “...Please touch me more.” you uttered shamelessly.    “Good girl. On your back, spread those pretty little legs for me too, why don’t you?”     Lying down on the plush mattress and warm pillows, you stare at the ceilings.    You peered at him starting where he left off. Giving you faint, yet chaste kisses on your breasts, trailing kisses down your stomach.     “Aw, your panties are absolutely fucking soaked baby, how cute.” he cooed, parting the soaked fabric to the side.     You look at him undress thoughtlessly, but you’re sure he’s done this several times. He did it with little to no effort, but that would mean that you’re not special.    It would be useless to think about right now, you were gonna have the dicking of your lifetime anyway, it was called a one night-stand for a reason. The mountain of clothes grew taller.    Growing impatient, you look up to where he was once standing, only to find him already in between your legs.     “So pretty.” Gojo purred, circling your entrance just as he had done previously in the car ride, you squeak.     “So lucky this is all mine.”     Gojo had figured he could add, “for the night.” but that strangely felt wrong.     He dips his fingers into your walls, and you cry out. Wrapping around his digits, sobbing, this wasn’t enough to satisfy your cravings.     “You want more?” he huskily said, a tone of playfulness still rampant.     “Yes! Please, just fuck me!” you croaked, already damn near about to cum from the teasing.     “That’s my girl.” he whispered under his breath, slipping off boxers you didn’t even realize were there in the first place.      He doesn’t give you a chance to see his full length, instead ramming inside of you. You inhale sharply at the sudden disruption.     The throbbing evaporated into thin air, and you’re desperately grabbing at the sheets to steady yourself. Sweaty and sticky skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room, along with your moans and his grunts. You could feel him reaching heights that you would never be able to do with the dildos you had at your house, much less your fingers. One hand on your waist to steady your flailing body, the other, roughly groping your breast.    You were finding it hard to think, pleasure and euphoria filling your senses. Unknowingly, you wrap yourself around Gojo even harder then before.     “Fuck, baby, I can barely pull out.” he panted. “you’re too tight.”      You can’t even begin to respond, still deep in your state of pleasure, instead responding incoherently with a jumble of delicate moans and gasps in between.     “C-cum!”      “Hm? Repeat that princess?” he soothed.    You’re unable to respond again, instead you try to lift your head up, and Gojo feels himself throb again, watching your eyes flutter back.     It’s not until it’s too late, realizing a hot fluid flow down your holes. He pulls out, he himself ejaculating on your stomach.     Both muscles stretched taut, you both laid on the bedsheets, sweating and panting.     “Fuck, I haven’t had a girl like you in a while.” he says, turning his head to look at you. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead.     “R-Really?” he kissed your forehead, tipping your chin with his long fingers.     “Yes, really. I’m so lucky I spotted such a pretty little thing at a club.”      The sun was starting to rise, you note, and you realize just how perfect his body is with the new light.     A sudden warmth on your cheeks, you look down, still panting.     “Clubs aren’t my thing.” you said breathlessly.     “Fuck. It’s 5 AM” he says, eyes now glued to his phone, ruffling his white hair.     “I’ll go-”     “No, here, lets take a shower with each other, and then we sleep.”      “Okay.” you responded, hoping to not make conversation, still believing that he was a celebrity.     He handed you his phone, rubbing the back of his neck.     “Can I get your number?”     “...Why?” you questioned.     “...To call you back again, duh.” he teases, rubbing your head.      No way, he wanted you back at his house?      You?    Not wanting to fuck up your chances, you nod, something was growing inside of you, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you knew he made you feel special.    

[morbidkisses]

I’m not sure how your requests work or what you would need, but could I get a yandere Hoseok story please?

You Belong With Me. (y! hoseok drabble)

warning: yandere themes, obsessive themes, yandere behavior, manipulation, abusive relationships, hobi gets kind of aggressive later on in the story, misogyny, choking, hair pulling, reader is chained up to the wall, death, minor character deaths.

summary: you get into an argument with hoseok because he refuses to let you go outside and catch up with your friends over a few drinks.

I do not condone this type of behavior so please don't romanticize this type of sick behavior, and if you're part in an abusive relationship please seek help!

once again this is FICTION, and yandere is counted as horror/mystery type of shit so stay safe bubbies! oh and this might be triggering so please read at your own risk, and if you don't like stuff like this then SCROLL. I talk too much-

"What? so you love them more than me??"

you rolled your eyes and sighed in exasperation. your boyfriend was being irrational at this point, and it was driving you crazy. You met hoseok a few weeks ago, and you were charmed by his radiant smile, his sweet words, he was the perfect gentleman with good looks and a fat bank account, you couldn't say no when he asked you out on a date, how could you? he was literally so perfect, but you were too blind to see the dark imperfections hidden behind his bright smile.

"For the hundredth time, hobi, they're my friends and I just want to catch up with them! You're being illogical-"

"How am I the one being illogical when you're the one who is choosing your so-called friends over me???" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize his point, his eyes were so wide you thought they would pop out.

"Just because I want to see them and talk to them doesn't mean I love them more than you, for God's sake!!! stop being so childish." you yelled out as you tugged at your hair strands in frustration. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? it wasn't like you were going out to cheat on him with someone else, you just wanted to go out and catch up with your friends at the local bar.

"You're not going, and that's the end of this stupid discussion, love. Now, get your ass back in the bedroom and change into something proper, you look like a slut in that dress."

Okay. that was it. You grabbed the first thing your hands could find, which was a tissue box and threw it at him as hard as you possibly could in rage. How dare he call you that, your dress was completely fine. You were clad in a simple black dress that dropped right above your knees and the only thing that could be considered inappropriate by society was the little cleavage that was showing, but even if you were to go out in the tightest dress he still had no rights to call you that. You had to leave him. And leave him you did.

"You're such a bitch, I tried to make this shit work but honestly I'm fed up with your immature ass. Im leaving." you picked up your purse which had your car keys and phone in it, before walking towards the entrance door and opening it.

"don't bother calling me again." you mumbled before slamming the door shut behind you.

Hoseok was in a state of shock, his soul had left his body, he couldn't process what just happened. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water on him.

"n-no... y/n, sweetie, come back..." his voice cracked as he fell to his knees in devastation. He knew you could no longer hear him, but he hoped you would come back through those doors and hug him. How could you be so cruel? You were the reason he was breathing? He felt like all the light was pulled out of him, his mind going numb as he stared down at his hands.

Soft cries left his lips as his stature stuttered while he sobbed silently, but not before long, he broke into an unhinged laughter as he sat down on the ground and leaned back against the couch, his eyes stuck to the door you had so rudely slammed into his face. All traces of sadness had disappeared from his face, a devilish smirk replacing the heartbreaking frown.

You were going to regret this big time.

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Tae, my birdie just left me, can you do me a favor and bring her back to me?"

The person on the other line scoffed audibly

"Do I even have a choice?" 'Tae' groaned.

"Not really. Be careful not to hurt her, and bring her two little friends with her as well, I don't care if you hurt them just keep those two alive, my birdie needs to learn a lesson."

A sigh could be heard from the other line before 'tae' mumbled an okay.

"I'll text you the location."

Everything was a blur, one moment you were laughing and having fun with your friends and the very next second you fell unconscious. Unknown to you, someone might have put a few ingredients in your drinks.

You woke up with a throbbing ache in your head, your mind was fogged up and you couldn't think. A groan left your lips as you brought your hands up to rub your temples. You sat up on what seemed to be a bed, your mind started clearing up, but you were still confused, where were you? what happened? You fully opened your eyes and panic started filling your mind as you realized you were in Hoseok's room. You started hyperventilating and quickly got out of bed, but you felt something heavy around your ankle.

was he fucking serious???

He had cuffed your ankles, you were literally chained to the wall. the chain was long enough for you to roam around the room and the bathroom.

You were hysteric, trying your hardest to pull out the thick chains from the wall, but your efforts were futile. Silent sobs began pouring from your lips as you panicked. After giving up you slumped against the wall and hugged your knees as you cried to yourself.

"Oh you're up!" Hoseok beamed as he entered the room.

Furious yet terrified, you stood up and charged at him full speed before grabbing him by the collar of his white shirt and yanking him closer to your face.

"Listen here, you crazy psychopath, if you don't let me out of here right now I'll-"

"oh please, what are you gonna do?" he grinned sinisterly as he gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, you were such a cute little thing, bluffing around. You couldn't do shit to him at the moment, and both of you were aware of that fact. His gentle strokes didn't last long as he yanked your hair back.

"You must learn your lesson, my love, I didn't want to do this but you misbehaved."

His other hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain. Your face started becoming red as you tugged at his hand.

"p-plea... se... s-sto..."

He scoffed at your expression as he tilted his head. "know your place."

He tightened his grip one last time before letting you fall to the ground on your knees, before you broke into a coughing fit.

"That's where you belong" his tone was enough to make you shudder. "you belong with me... completely at my mercy."

You didn't have it in you to fight more so you just weakly glared up at him, your legs felt numb, rendering you motionless on your knees.

"I hate you..."

"aw, but I've barely started your punishment, love! It's still too early to hate me!"

although your words stung him a bit, he didn't show it. He just feigned an innocent smile before he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Bewildered by his actions, you frowned. What was he up to? what did he mean when he said it's still too early to hate him?

"Ah Tae! Hello!" He sounded awfully cheerful and enthusiastic. How could he shift his mood like that. It seemed as if he was face timing someone on his phone.

Hoseok looked down at you and he almost cooed at your adorably confused expression.

a sigh was heard from the other line. "You owe me big time, hoseok."

"yeah yeah, I'll send you the money later. Can you show me our friends for a bit?"

no.. he couldn't mean...

He crouched down next to you and showed you the screen of his phone. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly began shaking your head.

"Hobi, please no no, please! Leave them out of this please!" you almost choked on your tears as you begged him to let your friends go.

"it's a bit too late for that, baby." he pressed a kiss to your temple which made your skin crawl in disgust.

"YOU BASTARD, LET THEM GO." you screamed at the screen as you watched your best friends tied up and severely bruised.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit..." 'Tae' muttered. You couldn't see his face on the screen, probably because he was using the back camera to show your friends.

"the fuck am I supposed to do now?" the person behind the camera asked.

"oh just finish them off."

Hoseok sat down on the ground and back hugged your body, his head resting on your shoulder as he made sure your eyes didn't leave the screen.

"no please don't! I'm begging you please stop!" you cried out as the camera got closer to your friends. Your friends' cries were left unheard as two bullets were shot right into their skulls.

You let out a blood curling scream as you thrashed around, but hoseok was stronger than you, so he held you down with ease. How could he do that?

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both, you motherfuckers!" you screamed at them both as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"thank you, tae, I owe you! bye bye!" he ended the call.

"You see love, we could've avoided all of this... if you had just been obedient. This is all your fault, I hope you know that." he sighed as he looked down at your crying form.

He was sick, how could he say that, did he feel no remorse?

"you can't leave me... you belong to me."

a/n: that was kind of shitty- but I tried- sorry for the late updates! I hope you like it :]]

this is unedited by the way :]

oh and I used a yandere starter prompt by @yandere-daydreams ! :]

[citadelspires]

Amphibia Oneshot Thing(I Never Claimed To Be Good At Titles)

I had an idea for a fun little story thing while I was at work over the weekend, and decided to take the time to write it up into this. In all honesty this is ridiculously self indulgent, and I wrote it late at night with no editing, beta reading, or even just looking back over it once I finished. Essentially I wrote this entirely for myself and just threw it on here in the hopes maybe a few other people might enjoy it like I do. That’s all I gotta say up front so just, here you go. (this is a long one so most of the story will be under a cut).

Anne found herself wandering around a lot of parks these days. After all her time inAmphibia sitting around in her house only made her anxious, and the city was just dull. So she would sit in the areas with the most foliage, where it always felt the most comfortable. Like one of her old adventures could come find her any second. Like she could pretend her friends were just around the corner and surely if she waited just one more second Marcy would come tumbling out of those bushes, launching right away into a rambling speech about a new plant she'd found, the perfect mix of adorable passion and somewhat interesting information that would always make Anne smile.

She knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd known and tried to force herself to get used to the idea, but even as her miserable daydream was interrupted by the rustling of the very bushes she'd imagined, she hoped for a second maybe she'd imagined it all. She hadn't of course, and the boy who pushed his way out of the bushes was anything but her Marcy. Even so, he must have noticed her solemn expression, because he immediately walked over to where she sat with a look of concern on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Anne was surprised by the question for a moment, then again, she realized, she probably did look pretty miserable, moping around in the dirt in a random park. She was tempted to give an offhanded reply of dismissal, she was fine and his concern was almost certainly just a polite formality. But she was never good at following through with all that smile and say Im fine stuff.

"I've been better," she sighed.

The boy in front of her frowned, and took a seat beside her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Anne blinked in surprise, not expecting that reaction. She took a second glance at the kid, wondering what his deal was. He looked a few years younger than her, probably about Sprig's age, dressed for wandering around the woods. He looked like a kid who liked an adventure, maybe that's why Anne felt like she might be able to talk to him. She couldn't say everything of course, god knows she'd need a full time therapist for all her turmoil, but maybe she could simplify it a little bit, dance around the truth slightly. Besides, the more she thought about it the more the idea of talking to a regular kid sounded nice.

"Well," she began, searching for each word and phrase carefully, "a while ago, me and my friends found this weird place. It was scary at first, and I was nervous for a bit, but after a while I grew to love it a lot. I think- I know my friends felt the same. It was a really magical place, but it, uh, well its not around anymore. And I feel like I left a part of myself with it." Anne suddenly became overwhelmingly aware that she had just poured her heart out to a random stranger, and probably sounded insane on top of it, "Ugggh I sound stupid, nevermind kid just ignore me, thanks for trying though."

She started to get up and walk away but the boy jumped up at the same time.

"Wait, hold on. I'm not sure exactly what's going on, but from the sound of it, I think I kind of get it. I've got a pretty magical place of my own, I can't imagine loosing it. I know it's not the same but, I could take you there, if that would help?"

Anne turned back to look, not sure why this kid was so eager to help, until she saw the look on his face. He just looked like a kid who wanted to help, just for the sake of being nice. In that moment he reminded her of Sprig again, and she couldn't help it, she laughed.

"Seriously? You don't even know me. You sure?"

The boy shrugged and smiled. "There's lots of cool people I don't know yet. And you seem nice. So," he reached out his hand, "my name's Craig, nice to meet you."

As weird as this was, Anne had seen weirder, so sure, why not. She took the boy's hand.

"Call me Anne."

---

As they walked Anne started to wonder where this weird kid was taking her. Sure “magical place” in her situation was fairly literal, but she didn’t think she was exactly in the most common position for a kid. Or really for anyone for that matter. Still, the boy seemed pretty excited about it, so she figured she’d give it a shot. Better than moping around in some random bushes all day. Who knows, maybe she could even get her hopes up a little bit there would at least be something cool out there.

‘Something cool’ turned out to be a tree stump. Anne wasn’t sure if the kid was serious or not when they first got to the clearing, but based on the way he jumped up on the tree base and spread his arms wide.

“Welcome to the stump!”

Anne stared at him for a few seconds, not sure how to respond. Before bursting into laughter. She just couldn’t help it. There had been so much buildup, all for, apparently a regular tree stump. Craig crossed his arms and spoke up.

“Hey, I know it doesn’t look like much, but you haven’t seen anything yet, watch this!”

Whatever he was about to do, though, was cut off by a battle cry and a flash of orange hair flying at Anne from the trees. It was pure instinct, really, when Anne dove behind cover of the stump screaming,

“It’s an ambush!”

She realized her mistake a few short seconds later. Ivy Sundew literally could not be here. So, with no small amount of hesitation, she peeked over the edge of the stump to see a small girl pointing a homemade sword at her while trying to cover up a pouting expression. Anne could vaguely make out the girl muttering under her breath about how “noble warriors don’t ‘ambush.’“

“So, uh, are you gonna put the sword down orrr...”

Anne trailed off as the girl gave her a weary glance and muttered something about ‘intruders.’ It was at this point that Craig, who seemed to have tripped and fallen off the stump in the chaos, also poked his head back up and called out,

“Kelsey, wait! She’s with me!”

The short girl’s demeanor changed immediately.

“Oh, cool! Hi Craig, hi new girl, sorry I attacked you, I thought you were a devilish intruder.”

“Don’t worry about it, I get randomly attacked a lot, it happens.”

The girl, Kelsey, apparently, looked over Anne again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You do? Do you need a heroic guardian to protect you?”

Well, Anne noted, maybe this girl wasn’t so similar to Ivy after all. Though she still got the feeling the two of them would get along exceptionally well. She gave Kelsey a grateful smile, but shrugged off the offer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Kelsey nodded, seeming to finally relax, though she did pause for a moment and stare off into the distance, though to Anne it seemed more like she was probably just gazing into the depths of a random tree. She gave Craig a curious look, but he only waved it off, apparently this was just how things worked with Kelsey. Noted. When she came back down to earth Craig was waiting with a question,

“Where’s J.P.?”

“Oh he found a butterfly and then chased it into a mud puddle. It was close though so I went on ahead.” Her tone of voice suddenly changed into a much more dramatic one. “He and I both had our own battles to fight.” Before immediately going back to her normal one. “But he should be right behind me.”

Sure enough it was at  that moment another boy crawled out from the foliage outlining the clearing. This one already in a considerably messier state than either of the kids Anne had met so far. He wandered over to the stump, repeating the tale Kelsey had just told them, this time with a much higher focus on the mud puddle. He didn’t seem to notice Anne at all until she cleared her throat and waved hello. The boy, J.P. she assumed, immediately jumped with an exclamation of surprise.

“Relax J.P. she’s cool.”

Anne was a little pleased to notice this reassurance came from Kelsey this time, and didn’t miss the way Craig nodded in agreement.

“She was off by herself so I thought we could give her a tour of the creek.”

That last bit caught Anne off guard, just a bit. Up till this point she had just been assuming Craig had took her here to see the stump and his friends. She wasn’t sure how much more exciting one creek could be, but after all her time in Amphibia she wasn’t one for making too many assumptions about that kind of thing. Turning her focus back to J.P. she noticed how he looked her up and down with squinted eyes, before seeming to focus on the leaves and sticks that had (again?! seriously?!) gotten tangled in her hair, and nodding sagely.

“Good call Craig! I like her style.”

As J.P. immediately began to inspect the ground for his own leaf, which he immediately deposited snugly in his, much shorter, hair, Craig waved Anne over to the stump, where he’d rolled out a large piece of paper.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is my map of the creek!”

Anne wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but a fully detailed expansive rendition of what must have been a really large area of land, complete with notations of inhabitants, activities, landmarks, and literally anything else one could find to write down, had not been it. She gave a low whistle of appreciation. Man Marcy would’ve loved this.

Craig beamed at her show of awe, allowing himself a pleased, “drew the whole thing myself” before asking, “So, where do you wanna see first?”

---

After that, Anne was pulled around the creek to all sorts of locations, each one more intricate than the last. There was an entire colony of kids in these woods, a civilization even. Even on Amphibia she had never seen anything quite like it. It was wild, and, kinda cool? The more she saw the more she started to get what Craig meant. The whole place had its own feeling to it that didn’t quite mesh with any of the surrounding area. After a while, she was even able to push (most of) the weight that had been on her shoulders for so long to the back of her mind.

Which wasn’t to say that her time in Amphibia left her completely. In all likelihood it was more inclined to have already made her a primary target for whispers and gossip to all the kids there. Though she never would’ve expected it before she’d gotten flown away from earth so long ago, she was kinda an expert at being in the woods now. Though she did slip up once or twice. For one dangerous moment there she was mortified that everyone would think she was insane when, upon being shown to the trading tree she had casually remarked,

“I don’t see why you need a whole place to trade for snacks when there are so many perfectly good bugs to eat out here.”

In her defense, she also preferred a good bag of chips over tiny dirt critters, but what could she say, she’d gotten used to a lot of weird things. While her immediate first reaction upon the words escaping her mouth had been to play it off as a lame joke(especially considering the way all the kids stared at her, some in horror, some in awe, at least one clearly wondering to themselves why they didn’t think of that first, the clearing totally silent save one kid who apparently didn’t get the memo and loudly exclaimed something Anne thought sounded like “my candy!”) her backup plan ended up being totally unnecessary as J.P. just started laughing, confidently proclaiming,

“I told y’all, she fits right in here”

And sure, maybe that made Anne smile just a little bit.

After that they had a few more people to meet, including a few girls prancing around a big open field, one of whom blushed slightly as she informed J.P. that she liked his leaf, to which J.P. gave a cheerful giggle and a thanks. (Anne considered it one of her foremost signs of character development that she didn’t break out any magazines as soon as they got back to the stump). But eventually things started to wind down, and the trio of friends, along with their new straggler, made it back to the little home base.

Anne took a few minutes to discuss the finer points of exploring woods with Craig, who had been eager to talk about it since they’d gone out earlier, while out of the corner of her eye Anne watched Kelsey do mock battle with an imagined enemy.

“You know, my little brother is much better at this stuff than I am, maybe you’d like to meet him sometime?” Though she’d posed the question to Craig, she didn’t bother to wait for an answer, as she saw Kelsey perform another made up sword move, and something occurred to her. “Hold that thought.”

Walking over to Kelsey, Anne continued to watch her form, confident enough based on where she was swinging and where her eyes were trained on that she had a pretty good idea of what the fake enemy the other girl was fighting might look like. Eventually she offered,

“You’re pretty good, but if you’re fighting something that much bigger than you, you’re gonna want to switch up your strategy a little bit.”

Without waiting for Kelsey’s reaction Anne grabbed a stick off the ground and performed a demonstration of a few moves she’d picked up in Amphibia. Though sword fighting was never something she had expected to be proficient at, she couldn’t deny that at this point she’d picked up a decent amount of skill. Once she’d finished her quick combo demonstration she turned to where Kelsey was standing, a little surprised to see a look of pure awe on the younger girl’s face, before she shouted,

“YOU KNOW HOW TO USE A REAL SWORD??????”

Anne grinned sheepishly at her excitement. “Uhhh, yeah, a little bit I guess?”

She’d barely gotten the words out before Kesley was on her, begging her to show more moves or better yet, spar with her. Anne waited for the tirade of excitement to slow down before smiling and offering,

“Sure I guess I could, but honestly my little sis knows way more about this fighting stuff than I do. If you want someone to practice with she’s your best bet. I could bring her out here some time, if you’d like.”

Kelsey’s excited nodding was interrupted by an instrument Anne couldn’t quite place, and suddenly the smaller girl’s shoulders fell in disappointment, before immediately perking back up again.

“That’s dinner, but you can bring her tomorrow! I’ll see you then!”

She waved goodbye as she rushed off, as did J.P. though with considerably less rushing, leaving just Anne and Craig, who seemed to also be on his way out. Anne figured that was just one more of the natural ways of the creek. As he left, though, Craig paused for a moment.

“I’m not sure where your special place was, but this is a pretty good one for a lot of kids here. I hope you had fun, I know we did. See you around Anne?”

Anne could tell the last bit was phrased as a question, and she paused to think, if only for a moment. Sure this was no Amphibia, and sure a lot of the stuff that had happened since Craig had tumbled out of those bushes was pretty weird. And maybe she did feel a little guilty that she was off playing around while her friends in Amphibia were, well... But still, for the first time since her birthday, Anne had gone one day where she actually felt like the 13 year old kid she was. Sooner or later she could blow their minds with magic powers and frog siblings, but for now, she was just Anne, she was just a kid. She gave a grateful smile.

“See you around, Craig of the Creek.”

[silvermuffins]

Pokemon Legends Arceus: because i sold my soul to nintendo long ago

Truth be told I preordered this game the moment it was available and downloaded it ASAP. And then proceeded to not touch it. ADHD brain. Lack of time in between other things. Part of me screaming that I should finish a game before starting another. The stars weren't right. Couldn't do it. Stars, man. Stars.

But today my lifelong love has returned to me, and today we fight to the death!

i haven't even opened the game yet ftr. but i HAVE closed the one i'd been playing, so i'm ready to go.

leeeet's do this

shiny light and i expect to hear "open your eyes...wake up, Link!"

oh shit, beyond both time and space, gold, is this the collective unconscious

hello god its me margaret

i do not know how much of my appearance i'll be able to change later....as for name. hm. i picked a very unjapanese look, but i do want a japanese name... [much working ont hat later] Eiko

wait this is a fucking isekai?

like god is telling me a world in which pokemon is gonna be strange to me

yooooo EIKO ISN'T FROM POKEMON WORLD

maybe i shouldn't have gone with a japanese name lol too late now

yo it's straight up GOD telling me to catch 'em all this time

YEET

oh fuck there goes my phone

this is now a kingdom hearts opening sequence

awww god took my-- okay dude PLEASE tell me you didn't download any sketchy apps i JUST got this phone

rude

what is that thumping

i FELL OUT OF THE SKY

strange hat man thinks I'M the weird one for falling out of the sky

which tbf i probably am

also tf is that thundery swirly thing in the sky over there are we just gonna fucking ignore that?!

if im not from the pokemon world why does my teeshirt have a luxury ball on it

"a bit of a pickle"

"a bit"

NO SHIT DUDE

i just told you i don't have an acquaintance around here why would you think i have somewhere to stay

NO I AM NOT SURE I WILL SURVIVE

holy shit my guy my dude

expressive protag tho, very nice, that was a very clear look of oh fuck im screwed

the starters just patiently waiting to be acknowledged

"almost as if they knew" yup okay then they knew and there's some destiny bullshit going on

i mean i guess i WAS literally sent by god

siiiigh I know what a pokemon is but Eiko has to get the tutorial

im amazed strange hat man even considered i might not know

currently stalling while i try to pick a starter

Laventon.....okay so the locals don't necessarily have Japanese names we all good

off the starters go again which tbh im surprised they didn't sooner

cant jump cant swim

oh arceus marks my targets ig?

no it's just GIVING MY GODDAMN PHONE BACK

oh sick custom case

god is texting me

this is gonna be the coolest catching tutorial ever

also we're not gonna do a nickname theme it's gonna just be whatever

also thank you game freak for giving cyndaquil its fire back

.....sooooo so far im getting professor useless vibes from laventon, can't wait to ditch him. i got my mission from god, don't need you.

whoa holy shit fifty?

laventon's design is SO weird like what is he even doing

so pokemon can shrink themselves???? ALL of them can? so why can't everything use minimize

....is laventon british? or galarian????? because his speech patterns....

booped oshawott riiight in the snoot

excuse you sir who are you calling old girl

acting awfully avuncular for a dude i met two seconds ago

bla bla pokedex sir i have my mission

BUT THOU MUST rowan's way of but thou musting was vastly superior

he's finally doing something helpful to the kid who just got isekai'd

oh we are FINALLY acknowledging the ominous cloud over the mountain

them's some sideburns

the villagers are, appropriately, confused and curious and gossipy

god has bequeathed me a gps

prelude beach, that's kinda on the nose

as a true jrpg player i am running around talking to everyone before i get on with shit

oh jesus nearly every building seems to be able to be go-inside-able

village guardian shrine has an arceus ring in it....

okay can't enter any buildings yet

my guy's mustache is green but his beard is grey

holy fuck hi lucas

laventon is a foreigner confirmed!

"yeah he's professor useless hang with the cool kids instead"

ooook lucas's name is Rei

somehow laaventon snuck up on him though...

Cyllene. who gave her the right to be so this,

holy shit i have an age

EVERYONE here is sus of me wow

THIS is how we're explining the [POINTS AT OMINOUSLY THUNDERING SWIRLY THING]

just casually discussing space-time rifts over dinner like it's nbd?!

also is it me or are lots of people kinda looking down on the Survey Corps

awww cyllene is a stress eater

we got new villagers out and some relocated bc it's later! and whoa shit nice room

why are there jars of rocks in my room

get this show on the road

thats probably fine

there's so many foreigners here??? so why am i an issue

"almighty Sinnoh" what the fuck

there's actually a shitton of people here

okay i'm ready to Continue

holy shit cyllene your desk

what guidance did i just activate???

also she really is just gonna yeet me out in the wild huh

thankfully laventon is PROBABLY going to "it's dangerous to go alone! take this"

we goin' Cyndaquil!

hang on time for more exploring

who dat

oh shit dude YOU should be the professor

you could call the pokedex....volo's guide to monsters

oh snap we gonna fight

unsure if stranger danger?

eh it's probably okay he seems sparkly

holy shit that battle music is so hype

whoa potions do a LOT

awww this trial is cute

all done. can't wait to be out of the tutorial zone and just be free

explorin'. when can i trust npcs won't say new things?

i sorta like how people are a little meaner than most pokemon games

finally, clean clothes! and, hat get! am now true protag

i completely missed the second floor when i was exploring here earlier...didn't even occur i might be able to go up the other staircase

hello rowan senior,oh fuck dude wants to fight

oh my fuckign god

etjkrtyfnretr

i love this man

let's just get on with things instead of hunting down every scrp of unique diaalogue

this research system already looks SO cool

im gona dress up CUTE

wastes money to change hair just to preview hats then change back bc i didn't like any of 'em

the photo place is interesting

okay! field time!

i don't have a shitton to say right now im just kicking around having fun

rei can you pls just leave me to do my thing, my exploring is very quickly proving to be more efficient than your handholding

i keep trying to use botw controls

he checks on me, has me check if i have tasks to report. there are 41. got a shitton of points for that. caan i cross the bridge yet?

time to go get a star

Diamond Clan.....hmmm

awww him have pika

oh sweetheart you are NOT gonna win

i want this lady to carry me

and then we took a break for food!

[several hours later]

ooh i get mystery gifts now!

volo still Being

i must go my people need me we are leaving it here for now

[slowly-writing]

Break a Leg

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Part two

Requested by anon: Hey could I request a Wanda maximoff dating a famous actress x fem reader who's her girlfriend for three years and Wanda watches her movies and shows and absolutely loves it even tho at first she didn't get her love for acting but now she does as she sees how happy you are with it? And maybe y/n is in an interview and the entire avengers are watching and they ask abt Wanda and what's it like being her girlfriend and if she misses her when she's on missions and y/n is flustered a lot,just fluff!

“Tony did what?” you’re gasping for breath, trying to contain your laughter as Wanda tells you about her day.

“He lit his sleeve on fire. He didn’t even notice until one of his robots was spraying him with a fire extinguisher.” You’re wiping tears from your eyes as someone knocks on the door, entering before you can respond.

“Miss y/l/n, we’re ready for you in makeup,” a young guy with a clipboard tells you and you nod.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you wait for him to leave before picking up your phone from the couch next to you and taking it off speaker. “Alright my love, I gotta go.”

“Noooooo, I don’t want you to go yet,” Wanda whines and you can’t help but share her feelings.

“I know. I miss you too, but I just have a few more interviews to finish up and then I’m flying home tomorrow night,” you promise and she sighs.

“Fine. I really can’t wait until you come home. The team is having a viewing party for your interview tonight,” you laugh at the thought of the avengers taking time out of their day to watch you talk about a movie they’ve all heard you talking about since you auditioned.

“Way to make me nervous,” she laughs and you can almost hear her eye roll through the phone. “Okay, I really have to go now. I love you so much, I’ll call you in the morning.”

“I love you too. Break a leg tonight.”

xxxxx

“For my next guest I have two time Oscar nominee and leading lady of the upcoming movie, Phantom Zone. Please welcome, y/n y/l/n!” you hear the crowd applauding and you take a deep breath before walking out onto the stage. The lights are bright and the only thing going through your head as you wave to the audience is “Please don’t trip. Please don’t trip. Please don’t trip.” You really don’t need to take Wanda’s wish of good luck literally and end up on crutches. Luckily you make it across the floor in one piece and greet the host before sitting down.

“So y/n, you’ve come a long way for such a young actress. Why don’t you tell us a bit about your new movie,” the host starts and you go back and forth with the normal questions. With this being the second to last day of your press tour you’ve lost count of how many interviews you’ve had. You could answer these questions in your sleep, so you go through the motions until the host throws you for a loop with a more personal question.

“So y/n, you’ve been seen spending quite a bit of time in New York with a certain witch. Care to comment on that?” the host asks and you chuckle. You can feel your cheeks heating up and the knowledge that your face is bright red on live television only makes you blush more.

“What do you want to know?” you shoot back and he laughs, glad that you didn’t refuse to answer.

“Why don’t we start with how you two met,” he suggests and you nod. You’ve never commented much on your relationship but after three years you and Wanda decided you’re alright with the world knowing a bit more about you.

“It was a bit over three years ago now, I was staying in New York between filming seasons of Walking Dead. I was in central park enjoying the weather and Wanda just walked right up to me, I freaked out a bit. I was meeting my favorite superhero, it was quite a shock. She had no idea who I was at that time which was a nice change of pace. She was beyond lost so I helped her find her way out of the park and the rest is history.”

“She didn’t know who you were? You’re kidding, right?” he asks and you laugh with him before responding.

“Trust me, I was a little shocked too. I try to stay humble, but I was also a cocky nineteen year old. It was a week before the Oscars and I was nominated for best supporting actress. I thought everyone knew who I was. Don’t tell her I told you this, but her having never heard of any of my movies was probably a really good ego check for me,” you lean in as if it's a secret and he pretends to zip his lips.

“Your secret is safe with me. Though if she’s watching this, I am not responsible.”

“Oh she definitely is. I talked to her earlier, they’re having a viewing party at the Avenger’s compound,” you say and his eyes widen.

“The avengers are watching my show,” you can’t tell if his shock is real or not, so you try to hold back your laughter as you nod. “Does that not intimidate you even a little?”

“I mean no, not really. Trust me, when Wanda introduced me to the team I thought I was gonna pass out, but after you’ve seen them scream at each other over a 2am monopoly game in their pajamas the intimidation wears off,” you say with a smile.

“That would definitely make them seem less scary. Has Wanda seen your movies now?” he asks and you groan.

“Yes. She made me watch them all with her. Don’t get me wrong, I love the stuff I was in. If I wasn’t in them I’d probably binge them on repeat, but something about sitting in a living room watching yourself on a screen is just awkward. I love premiers even watching it in theaters can be fun, but I don’t enjoy watching them alone. That one scene in walking dead made her cry though. I was pretty proud of that acting, plus the zombie makeup was fun,” you’re referring to when your character was killed off a few seasons back. The fact that you were able to make her cry over “your” death while sitting right next to her was pretty cool. “She goes to all the premieres and viewing parties with me now, so she sees it all.”

“I can see how that could be uncomfortable, but I’m glad you made it through. Now you better not break her heart, that team of her’s will come after you,” he says and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, I would never. I’m gonna marry that girl one day,” you say and the audience  let’s out a collective “awwwwww.”

“On that note we are unfortunately out of time. Thank you so much for being here tonight, Phantom Zone is in theaters October 18th!” The host calls. You wave at the camera until a crew member yells clear, then you say goodbye to the host and make your way back to your dressing room. Little do you know as that’s happening Wanda is sitting on the couch back in New York, cheeks bright red and a smile on her face. At your final words she makes a decision. It’s time for the ring in her nightstand to leave the drawer and go onto your finger.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[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 

[wienerbarnes]

Play Dead Until You’re Dead

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 3,149

Warnings: Lowkey angst ngl but nothing too bad

A/N: YAY im so excited for this part bc I've had this in my head for a while now and it gonna change so much for the story but I'm so excited for one shots in the future! also this is kinda not edited ill go through it again tomorrow :) enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A slow knock interrupts your plant watering and you glance at the time. Bucky said he’d be by in the afternoon, not the morning. You place your cup of water down and walk over to the door and open it cautiously before your eyes widen and a gasp escapes you as you see who awaits you on the other side.

Sam Wilson, dressed in civilian clothing, shoots you a smirk, “Why don’t we go for a drive?”

You don’t have time to answer. You don’t have time to think. Your blood is cold, your hands are cold, and your feet are cold as they slip into the sandals you keep by the door. You silently - and anxiously - step out into the hallway and shut the door behind you, never taking your eyes off of Sam.

“After you.” he gestures with a smile. You walk.

…

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have a lot of unspoken conversations. Although the rocky start they got off too all those years ago, they’ve grown incredibly close and trust each other like no one else.

So when Bucky calls him late at night, sounding confused, nervous, and unsure, Sam notices. Especially when Bucky then suddenly forgets why he called and what he needed to talk to him about.

Sam’s first thought was that he was drugged. Bucky was given something that clouded his mind. But when Sam saw him the next day, he seemed perfectly fine. So, he proceeded to his second thought.

Bucky was keeping a secret from him.

When Sam was passed the shield, there was one thing each of them asked of each other. Bucky asked to not be a part of the Avengers full time. Sam asked for no secrets and no lying (which he later asked the same from Sharon).

And since then, Bucky has been solely tasked with training new recruits for their seven week training which occurs twice a year, as well as to help on especially difficult cases called to them by the government. And in return, Bucky has not told a single lie to him or kept a single secret. Until now.

So Sam begins to get unimaginably curious. Bucky hasn’t picked up any new hobbies, and after a quick and encrypted check up, none of his extended family have passed away or had anything big happen to them, either. The last thing that Sam can think of to have caused such an odd change in Bucky is a girlfriend. But, if it is a girlfriend, why wouldn’t he tell Sam? Unless, it was someone he knew Sam wouldn’t like.

And that’s when he knew he had to figure out who it was.

So he waited. Until the perfect clue presented itself.

“No, I can’t tonight, man.”

“Why not? I know it’s Friday night, but, what, you got a hot date, or something?”

“Something like that - look, I just have plans I can’t cancel tonight. How about next Friday we go out?”

That was all Sam needed. The plans he couldn’t cancel. So, he waited until later that night and went over to Bucky’s apartment. He’d figure a harmless cock-blocking will teach him not to keep secrets from him anymore.

Until when he put his car into park and gathered his belongings to put them in his pockets, he noticed someone exiting the front of the apartment building; specifically a head of fiery red hair.

Imagine his surprise when he recognizes the face as you.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to figure out where you were. Everyone had already assumed you to be dead, or at least be far away from the country. But now that he knew you were still in New York, a few hours digging into your past and your file led him to a few key locations. From being so separated from society for so long, chances were that you’d find a place you were familiar with, if not the same place, the same area.

Kathleen Grover’s apartment is the first place he checks, but it’s since been turned into higher end condos, a place you probably wouldn’t be able to get away with staying at considering that you probably don’t have an ID or any money. So he checks for the absolute cheapest and low-lying apartments in the neighborhood. Which gives him two results. He just so happened to be lucky on the first one he chose to look into.

Which leads to now, the two of you riding in complete silence, on the way to the Tower, unbeknownst to you.

The only thing that’s going through your mind is Bucky. You hate the idea that he sold you out, because not only would it hurt your feelings, but it would mean those annoying voices in your head would’ve been right.

Yeah, time to put your big girl pants back on. What, you thought you’d live a normal life at some point? Buy a big house? Go out to fancy, populated restaurants? Maybe DisneyWorld? Get a grip! You were always a mistake and a failure. And you’re going right back where you belong, in that box! And Bucky will be right there in that observation room when they stick the needle in your arm and end you for good.

You swallow down the bile that comes up at the thought of going back to prison.

It was fun while it lasted. Decorating the apartment. The tattoos. The new recipes. The movie nights with Bucky. The sleepovers with Bucky. The list with Bucky. The long road trips with Bucky. The music playlists with Bucky. Bucky.

You’ll miss Bucky the most in prison. You’ll think about him everyday. You won’t be able to write him and he won’t be able to write you, not that he’d want to given the fact that he ratted you out, but there was no paper or writing utensils allowed, especially for you.

You’ll dream about his singing when he’d clean, his hugs after waking up, still warm from the sheets, and the unbelievable comfort his eyes provided.

...

“Hey, Sam, how are you?” Bucky absentmindedly answers as he finishes up watering the plants in his living room.

“Hey, man. You busy? Mind meeting me at the tower?” Bucky can hear his car in the background.

“Uh, yea, sure I can. New case?” He asks, setting down his watering kettle and walking towards his room to put on a fresh pair of socks and sneakers. If it’s a new case, there’s no point in getting all done up to listen to Sam debrief him.

“Something like that. Just get here, yea?”

That’s odd.

Normally when Sam calls Bucky about a case, he gives him at least some of the details. That was a part of their plan, their deal. Bucky only joins on missions on special occasions and with specific circumstances. So why wouldn’t Sam give the tiniest hint of what’s going on?

Unless it’s something Bucky’s involved in.

Is Zemo dead? Has he escaped? Some other big Hydra villain that’s come to light?

Bucky’s mouth goes dry like cotton at the thought of something involving you. Did someone recognize you and turn you in? Did Sam find you? No, no, he couldn’t have. The both of you had been so unbelievably careful, there was no way anyone found you.

Bucky lets out a shaky sigh before grabbing his keys and his wallet and heading out.

…

That phone call hurt. Hearing Bucky’s voice, for what will probably be the last time in a long, long time. Even if he betrayed you, even if he turned you in, even if he used you, backstabbed you, whatever. That fifteen second phone call caused an excruciating pain in your heart and it was so hard to hold back tears.

You didn’t want to cry. Captain America and Bucky Barnes had humiliated you enough for you to be crying on the way to the Avengers Tower. They don’t deserve your tears, and you don’t even deserve to be shedding them. This is exactly what you had coming to you.

Although the car ride felt like it lasted hours, the two of you arrived at the Avengers tower sooner than you would have liked.

Sam drove the car up though a back entrance, the back of the building opening up like recognizing Sam’s car. The ride in the elevator was quiet as Sam flashes a crystal-looking card and presses one of the thirty-seven buttons of the building.

He hadn’t put you in handcuffs and it seems he’s chosen a rather secretive way of transporting you here. Granted, you know you wouldn’t win a fight against Sam Wilson, even if you had Marine and HYDRA training under your belt, but, who knows what if you had a knife? Or were secretly an incredibly skilled fighter? What if your powers allowed you to, like, melt people’s brains and he had no idea? That’d probably be your best bet anyway, considering you're in custody at the Avengers Tower in sandals and no bra under your shirt.

The two of you exit out into an empty hallway, quiet, too, you notice. As the two of you approach the end of the hallway, swaying towards the door on the left wall, an interrogation room you deduct from peeking into the small window, a voice stops you.

“Hey, Sam? F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you’d be here, what’s-”

His voice catches in his throat seeing you and Sam turn around to face him. He feels his eyes widen, his skin pale, his hands become clammy. This can’t be happening. This can not be happening. He walks closer and his steps slow as he’s standing in front of you. He’s literally speechless and as much as he wants to talk, to scream, to question what’s going on, he doesn’t.

His mouth hangs open even though no words come out, and you spit in his face before he gets the chance. He flinches and Sam pushes you into the room before you can react any further.

Bucky wipes your saliva from his cheek and he wants to cry. He wants to choke. He wants to throw a fucking tantrum in the middle of the hallway because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on. He feels a panic attack coming on and uses all of this strength to push it down as Sam exits the room. Relax. Figure out what’s going on so you can fix it; so you can get her the fuck out of here.

“You are going to tell me everything. And I mean everything. Absolutely no one knows that she’s here, or that she’s even alive. Sharon will remain unaware until you give me an explanation.” Sam tells him, his Captain voice taking over, and Bucky silently nods because he’s scared.

This is all so fucked up. And he hopes the truth he’s about to tell Sam will help you more than hurt you.

…

It’s funny how being in a familiar place affects your mind and body, regardless of how long it’s been. In the time that you’ve been in this interrogation room, your nerves have been completely on edge in a way that they haven’t been since being in prison, the voices have returned in your head, chatty as ever, and you haven’t been so angry since you killed that guard all those years ago in that first prison.

You pick and pull at your cuticles until they bleed and chew at the inside of your cheek until you taste metal.

Think they’ll let you decorate your cell this time? Or do you think they’ll just strap you straight into the medical chair and tie your arm up? No need to waste food, water, and a cot on you. Maybe they’ll bring back the electric chair or the firing squad just for this special occasion! Maybe they’ll have Bucky pull the lever-

“Shut up.” You mumble audibly, already feeling a headache coming on.

Spitting at Bucky felt good and bad at the same time. Good, because he deserves it, and more, after doing this to you; giving you the best and freest two and a half years of your life before snatching it all away from you in a second. Did he do it for fun? Did he like the game, the teasing of befriending you, taking care of you, all because he knew he’d do this and have the last laugh in the end?

It felt bad because as much as this sucks, you can’t find it in you hate Bucky. He’s become your best friend, your only friend, someone you actually trust in this new life you’ve been living. You want to forgive him, hug him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not mad, that you could never be mad at him. Because you couldn’t. And that might actually be the worst part to all of this.

A click interrupts your thoughts and you stare at the Captain as he pulls out the seat across from you and sits down at the small table. How you wish there was a clock in here; how long had you been waiting for him here?

“What are you feelin’ right now?”

“Sorta like how your little wingman Riley felt when he fell out of the fucking sky.” You snap.

Sam doesn’t react. He remembers the way you’d act during the investigation years ago when they would question you in prison; he’d see the way you snap at them, at the guards, at the other inmates, how you’d really dig deep into people feelings and thoughts to say the worst thing to them in order to bring up bad memories. So, he was kind of already expecting that.

You’re upset, that he can tell from your attitude, your chipped and chewed fingernails, and you slouched sitting position, arms crossed across your chest as you lean against the back of the chair. He doesn’t blame you though, he’d probably be pretty upset, too.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., stop all audio and video recording from this room from today and erase it completely from every system, please.”

“Clearance level 1 or 2 necessary for that, Captain.”

“Clearance level 2; Wilson, Samuel T.”

“Thank you, Captain. All recordings have been erased and stopped.”

Huh?

“I have a proposition for you.” Sam begins. Your confusion clouds your mind and you don’t process his statement fast enough to respond before he continues.

“I will announce to the press that your body has been found along the coast of the Pacific after following a lead on your whereabouts, I will clarify that you have been found dead and that you drowned, closing the case looking for you. I will provide you with a new identity; that includes a false birth certificate, passport, and other forms of identification with a new name, new birth date, new everything.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” He ignores you.

“There will be a few rules you will have to follow in return. You will have to stay completely hidden out of the populated public for one full year after this announcement is made. You will have to change your appearance; cut your hair, dye it, whatever. You will stay here at the tower where you will be monitored.”

He pauses, like he knows this will be the part you hate most.

“And you will be required to use your abilities to help on future cases the Avengers are tasked with; the same way you did when we came to you with those two cases in the past.”

You’re silent for a moment, “And if I say no?” Your voice is small. You really don’t want to do this. You want to go back to your apartment, you want your clothes, your plants, your blankets, your mugs.

“Then you will be arrested and sent back to prison, in the same exact place on death row you were before.” Your eyes shut, the headache hitting fully.

“Why.” You demand.

“I talked to Bucky,” A roll of your eyes. “He didn’t rat you out, if that’s what you're thinking. I found you all by myself. And I made Bucky tell me absolutely everything. And from there I’m making the decision myself to offer this to you. It’s not my first time helping a globally wanted criminal. Or my second. Or my third. And it honestly probably won’t be my last at this point.”

Do you believe him? Does it even matter if he’s telling the truth or not? You clearly don’t have a choice here.

He knows this. And depending on how deep he spoke with Bucky, he knows you won’t go back to prison.

“I’ll show you to your quarters. You’ll have your own bathroom and kitchen. Tomorrow morning you will be briefed with your new identity by myself, Bucky, Agent Carter, and Director Fury. F.R.I.D.A.Y will help you with that in the morning.”

The walk was just as miserable as it was when you arrived. You wonder where Bucky is. Does he have a room here? Is he back home in his apartment? Is he coming back? Is he thinking about you? Is he mad that you spit on him?

I mean, probably a little bit. I would be at least.

You take a moment to look around your new room; your new living quarters for pretty much forever. There’s so much stuff; a large bed covered with folded blankets and soft pillows, a folded pair of clothes, a rug beneath your feet that sits under a desk and a large bookshelf, filled with books of differing genres and notebooks, the desk is bare except for a small lamp and a cup of pens and pencil. The kitchenette is to your left and seems to be pretty modern, you can’t imagine it’s missing anything you’d need. The closed door against the wall you assume is your promised bathroom, but you don’t feel like settling in.

It’s strange, living almost all your life with nothing; as a child being poor with your family, having less than that in the Marines, and having nothing in Hydra. When you had your apartment, you had nothing, you cleaned the apartment building to make money to pay your cheap rent, you’d steal your clothes, food, and decorations, everything that Bucky didn’t buy you, anyway.

And now, you’re standing in a room that has everything you’d need, no need to pay rent, supplies and resources at your request; all that’s needed in return is the use of your powers.

But you hate it. All of it.

The colors are dull. The decor is boring. There’s no light. Nothing happy. No colorful blankets, no wacky mugs, no cute earrings, no mismatched socks and labeled underwear with the days of the week. No Bucky.

No Bucky.

[danurso]

Left...

Yes! It was on the last second but i did it! Lets finish this year off with a bang baby! Or even better, with a YANG!

Jaune: morning guys. *sits down at the table*

RWB_/Pyrrha: *eating breakfast* morning.

Ruby: where are ren and nora?

Jaune: still on the room, just finished taking a shower and they told me to come and not wait for them, so i guess that means we won't see them at least until lunch.

Weiss: hmph, perverts.

Blake: *reading her book* didn't you kept ruby back almost every day after you hooked up too?

Weiss: *blushes* t-thats different!

Blake: considering how none of you has a male genital, yeah, i know it's different.

Weiss: *dark red* i hate you.

Ruby: *giggles*

Jaune: so, where's yang?

Ruby: she was feeling sick earlier today and told us to go ahead without her.

Jaune: is she okay?

Ruby: probably, it's been happening for a few days now, i thought she had already told you.

Jaune: no, she didn't. I had no idea she was feeling bad. *gets up* i'll go see her. *turns around and faces yang.*

Yang: *with a uneasy expression.* hey. . .

Jaune: hey, what's up? Are you feeling sick?

Yang: n-no, i'm fine i just. . . *sigh* can we. . .talk, just you and me?

Jaune: sure, did something happened?

Yang: on the room, just you and me. *walks away with jaune right after her.*

Pyrrha: what's wrong with her?

Ruby: we have no idea either.

Blake: actually. . .i might have an idea.

RW__/Pyrrha: *raise eyebrow.*

*At RWBY's dorm*

Jaune: so, what's up?

Yang: can you. . .sit down for a bit?

Jaune: err. . .sure. *sits down* are you okay? You look a bit pale. Ruby told me you've been feeling a bit sick the last few days.

Yang: i-i'm okay, i promise, i just. . .look, it's just that this is very hard to explain.

Jaune: what's hard to explain? You're starting to get me nervous.

Yang: . . . *takes in a deep breath before exhaling* jaune. . .do you love me?

Jaune: of course! Why are you asking me that?

Yang: do you know what you wanna do after beacon?

Jaune: we talked about this already didn't we? Our graduation is going to be in just three months, so after that we're going to find a nice apartment in vale and start doing missions to create a name for ourselves, wasn't that the plan?

Yang: i know, but what after that? Don't you have any other plans for after that?

Jaune: i thought we agreed to just see what happens after we get our apartment, take things slowly right? I mean, i have some plans and things i want to do but its nothing we need to worry about for now.

Yang: *avoiding his eyes with a guilty expression* but. . .what if something happened? Something big that would change our lives forever?

Jaune: yang, what are you talking about? I can't really understand where this is all going.

Yang: . . .i'm pregnant.

Jaune: . . .please come again?

Yang: i'm pregnant jaune.

Jaune: w-wait, what!? How did that happened!?

Yang: remember a week ago? When we went to a date to celebrate our two years together?

Jaune: yeah?

Yang: and remember that by the end of the night we went to junior's and got totally wasted?

Jaune: err. . .kinda? My memory of that night isn't perfect.

Yang: well, we got drunk as hell after a drinking competition and decided to rest on a nearby hotel, one thing lead to another and we started to. . . *pink* you know what.

Jaune: *blushes* y-yeah, i remember that part all to well if i'm being honest. B-but wait, i was using a condom on that day, how did you got pregnant?

Yang: jaune, we literally destroyed the bed while doing it, i don't think the cheap condoms we had were made to survive to our. . . *red* intense nights.

Jaune: *looking down, very nervously* so. . .you're really pregnant?

Yang: *nods* i made the test three times, its was positive on all of them.

Jaune: wow. . .so you really are pregnant. . .

Yang: are. . .are you mad?

Jaune: what? No, i'm not mad, i just. . . *gets up* i need some time to grasp the situation.

Yang: w-where are you going?

Jaune: *on the door* i just. . .give me some time okay?

Yang: o-okay.

Jaune: *leaves*

Yang: . . . *sighs and sits down, wandering on her thoughts*

*one hour later*

Ruby: *walks on her dorm* yang?

Yang: o-oh *forcing a smile* hey sis, whats up?

Ruby: . . .are you okay?

Yang: if i'm okay? What are you talking about? Of course i'm okay.

Weiss: yang, we know it.

Yang: know about what?

Pyrrha: blake told us that you were. . .uhm. . .well, pregnant.

Yang: *eyes wide, looking at blake* YOU KNEW!?!?

Blake: i saw you buying the tests yesterday, and after seeing you earlier i knew that the result was positive.

Yang: . . .

Ruby: so, how are you feeling?

Yang: . . .honestly? im freaking out. What if i'm not ready to be a mother? What if i'm not ready to raise a kid?

Ruby: come on, you always took care of me ever since i was a kid, if anyone here knows how to be like a mother, this person is you.

Pyrrha: besides, you're not going to be alone, jaune is going to be there for both of you.

Yang: yeah. . .i guess you're right.

Weiss: speaking of which, where's arc?

Yang: i don't know, after i told him i was pregnant he left saying he needed some time to think.

Blake: for how long he's been out?

Yang: an hour. . .i think.

Ruby: an hour!? Just where is he!?

Yang: i said i don't know, he's probably at the rooftop or somewhere like that.

Weiss: shouldn't he be here with you? This is unbelievable!

Yang: i-its okay, he's probably just thinking about situation.

Weiss: that's no excuse to let you alone and freaking out!

Ruby: im going to call him *dials jaune on her scroll* . . . . . .huh?

Yang: what?

Ruby: it says jaune's scroll is turned off.

Pyrrha: what? But jaune never turns his scroll off.

Blake: isn't him on your room?

Pyrrha: *walks off RWBY's dorm and knocks  on her team's door*

Nora: *opens door* hey pyrrha. *looks at the crowd staring at her from across the corridor* what's going on?

Pyrrha: we can explain later, but now have you seen jaune?

Nora: yeah, he passed here almost an hour ago.

Ruby: do you know where he is?

Nora: no idea. He came in a hurry while talking to someone on his scroll.

Pyrrha: talking to who?

Nora: *shrugs* i don't know, all i heard was that jaune was talking about buy a passage home or something like that, then he picked his bags and ran away.

RWBY/Pyrrha: HE DID WHAT!?

Nora: he picked his bags and left, why? You guys don't really think he left for gold right? I mean, what reason could he have to suddenly run away from beacon?

RWB_/Pyrrha: . . . *looks back to yang*

Yang: *in shock* he. . .left?

Nora: hey, whats going on? Why is everyone so nervous?

Pyrrha: w-wait, there's something wrong, jaune wouldn't just leave like that.

Weiss: well, he clearly just did!

Ruby: pyrrha is right, jaune wouldn't run away like that! M-maybe he just-

Yang: SHUT UP!!!

*CRACK!*

RWB_/_NP_: *staring at a red eyed yang whose fist just went through a wall* . . .

Yang: *taking deep breaths* 

Ruby: y-yang, we don't know everything yet, h-he might just-

Yang: JUST WHAT RUBY!?!? I THINK IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS WHAT HAPPENED!!!

Ruby: please calm do-

Yang: DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN RUBY!!! I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THIS SHIT!!!

Ruby: . . .

Yang: I KNEW IT!!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! DAD ALWAYS TOLD ME TO BE CAREFUL AROUND BOYS BUT I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO NOT LISTEN TO HIM!!!

Ruby: y-yang-

Yang: *with hair on fire* WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!?!? I KNEW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN BUT I LET HIS STUPID SMILE AND CUTE FACE TRICK ME!!! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED HIM!!! THAT ASSHOLE!!! BASTARD!!! SON OF A BITCH!!!!!! *punches the wall, spreading a web-like crack all over it, letting out ragged breaths*

Ruby: *carefully getting closer* . . .yang?

Yang: *sniff*

Ruby: y-yang?

Yang: *falls on her knees, still facing the wall* . . .why did he left me. . . *sniffs, the fire on her hair slowly fading* just what is wrong with me?

RWB_/_NP_: . . .

Yang: *turns to ruby, her eyes back to lilac and filled with tears* why does everyone i love ends up leaving me?

Ruby: *tearing up*

Yang: am i that terrible of a person? First my mom, then summer and now jaune. . .why does everyone i love hates me so much?

Ruby: *kneels down, pulling yang into a tight hug* that's not true! We all love you! And you're a wonderful person!

Weiss: *wiping some tears* that's right, ruby is telling the truth.

Yang: *sniffs, now staring at weiss* . . .

Weiss: yes, you can be very annoying sometimes, but still, you're one of the most wonderful and caring people i've ever met, and if they can't see that, they're the ones losing it.

Blake: she's right, you're wonderful and they're the one losing if they can just give up on you for no reason.

Yang: but. . .what am i going to do now? How am i gonna raise the baby without jaune?

Ruby: well, if i remember well, you always took care of me when i was younger so i think you had a lot of practice with raising kids.

Pyrrha: plus, you're not alone, i think i speak for everyone when i say that if you're going to need help to raise your son or daughter, we will be there to help you.

Ruby: well said.

Weiss: of course we will.

Blake: *nods*

Yang: . . . *sniffs, letting go of ruby and opening a small smile* thanks girls, you're all amazing.

Nora: i don't really know what's going on, but i'll help you too if you need someone to break legs!!!

Yang: *chuckles, wiping her tears* thanks nora.

Nora: don't thank me! Just come here! *pulls her into a bone crushing hug.*

Ruby: us too! *pulls the others and hug yang*

Yang: heh. . . *hugs them back* thank you girls.

???: wow. . .err, did i came in a bad time?

RWBY/_NP_: *looks at the doorway where jaune is standing with a pair of bags on hand* JAUNE!?

Jaune: *confused* yeah? That's me. *looking at the dented walls* what happened? Did you girls fight or something? And- *notices yang's disturbed expression* yang? *drops his bags and walks closer* what's wrong? Why are you staring at me like tha-

Weiss: *standing on his way* back off.

Jaune: what? Weiss, can you please let me-

Weiss: no! Don't you think you did enough already!? Actually, why did you even came back!? You forgot one of your comics or something stupid like that!?

Jaune: wait, what? What are you talking about?

Blake: about you abandoning yang.

Jaune: me abandoning what!? What are you guys talking about!?

Yang: nora told us everything jaune, stop playing dumb!

Jaune: what? Yang, i have no idea what you're talking about, im not planning to leave you.

Yang: oh yeah? Then where were you all this time!?

Jaune: . . . *sighs* well, after we talked i went to the balcony to get some fresh air and calm down a bit but all i managed to do was get in panic. *rubbing the back of his head while looking away* i had no idea what i was going to do or if i was ready to be a father so i called my mom and asked for help. After that i went to vale to buy some things.

Yang: if you were just going to buy a few things then why did you had to take your bags?

Jaune: well. . .cause mom's list of things was a bit big. *picks the pair of bags, opening it and showing a ton of different stuff*

Ruby: what all this stuff?

Jaune: well, these things are lots of skin and massage lotions, medicines for any problems yang can deal with during pregnancy, vitamins for her and the baby, and a few bras and panties with extra sizes since mom told me a woman's breasts grow because of lactation and her hips grow a bit as well during the months of pregnancy.

Pyrrha: so you've been out all this time to buy all of this stuff?

Jaune: yeah, i've seen my mom getting pregnant four times and i know how complicated it can be, so i wanted to buy everything to make sure her pregnancy go smoothly.

Ruby: if that's all then why didn't you answered when i called you!?

Jaune: *sheepishly* well, i was talking with my mom the whole time while buying the stuff, and because of that the battery of my scroll died.

Blake: wait, so what were the passages nora told us about?

Jaune: mom insisted that after beacon is over, me and yang go back to my home so she can teach us a few stuff to help during pregnancy.

Weiss: so you were out all this time just to buy things for yang's pregnancy?

Jaune: yeah, basically.

Weiss: . . .i honestly can't believe you.

Ruby: i can, this sounds just like something jaune would do.

Yang: pff. . .

Ruby: yang? 

Yang: *chuckling* all this time. . .i was getting angry and worried because of nothing. . . *sighs, looking down* i feel so stupid right now.

Jaune: *walks to her, pulling yang closer* did you really think i was going to abandon you? Specially now?

Yang: . . .yeah. i-

Jaune: *pulls her into a tight hug*

Yang: jaune?

Jaune: im sorry.

Yang: wait, sorry for what?

Jaune: i should've warned where i was going, but because i didn't do that you thought i had  abandoned you. I know how much you're afraid of being abandoned and i made you feel like i abandoned you when you needed me the most, i'm really sorry.

Yang: what? *breaks the hug* jaune, i called you a lot of bad names and said horrible things just because i thought you left me. . .ruby and pyrrha tried to tell me you would never do that but i ignored them and kept cursing at you just because you spent an hour away from me. If anyone here needs to apologize this person is me.

Jaune: can we just agree that we both messed up, we both feel bad about it, and we're both sorry?

Yang: . . .okay. still, sorry for thinking you were going to abandon me.

Jaune: heh, bold of you to assume i would let you go just because you got pregnant, you're way too good of a catch for me to let you go.

Yang: *chuckles*

Jaune: i wasn't planning to let you go before, and i'm not going to start now.

Yang: what do you mean?

Jaune: . . . *sighs* i was planning to wait for the day of our graduation but, oh well, screw it. *pulls away*

Yang: *confused* what are you doing?

Jaune: *goes to one of his bags, fumbling a bit but finally taking out a small black box.*

RWBY/_NP_: *gasp*

Yang: j-jaune *tearing up* is this. . .

Jaune: *getting down to one knee* Yang, when we first met i couldn't imagine what the future was holding for us, i could never imagine that a girl as beautiful as you would fall for a dork like me, but you did, and you gave me the chance to show how much i love you while you showed me how much you love me, you're the light of my life, the brightness that fills the darkness that surrounds me and the warmth that comforts me during my coldest days, my very own sunshine. *open the little box showing a golden ring with a lilac jewel on the middle*

Yang: *covering her mouth while tears stream down her cheeks*

Jaune: so yang xiao long, would you give this humble knight the pleasure and the honor of being my- *gets tackled by yang*

Yang: YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* A MILLION TIMES YESSS!! *pulls him into a long deep kiss*

Jaune: w-well, not exactly how i imagined but i'm not complaining. *gets back into kissing yang*

Weiss: *deadpans* why am i not surprised?

Ruby: *sheepishly* because it's yang?

Weiss: . . .fair enough.

Yang: *inserts hands on his hoodie while deepening the kiss*

Blake: i think we should leave, like, before things get more intense.

Pyrrha: i think that's an great idea.

RWB_/_NP_: *walks away*

Ruby: so, do you guys wanna do anything for now?

Pyrrha: . . .i'm kinda hungry, you guys wanna eat something.

Blake: sure.

Weiss: sounds good.

Pyrrha: you're coming nora?

Nora: nah, i'll wait for renny to finish his bath.

Pyrrha: okay, join us when he ends up there, okay?

Nora: will do!

RWB_/Pyrrha: *walks away*

Ren: *coming out of the room drying his hair* i heard some screams coming from the bathroom, did i lost something?

Nora: well, yang almost destroyed her room during her breakdown cause she thought he abandoned her after finding out she was pregnant, but turns out jaune was actually just worried with her pregnancy and left to buy some stuff so he came back and they apologized to each other before jaune proposed and now they're making out so no i don't think you lost anything.

Ren: . . .right. do you wanna eat some pancakes?

Nora: sure!

*on the room*

Yang: *on the bed and on top of jaune while making out* hold on a second, if i'm pregnant and you're going to be the father, *grins* does that means i can call you daddy?

Jaune: you already called me like that before so i don't see anything special.

Yang: well, now you're going to be a really daddy, so it spices things up a bit don't you think?

Jaune: *chuckles* fair enough. . .yang?

Yang: what?

Jaune: i love you.

Yang: *smiles* i love you too daddy.

[iridescentides]

hi again dia! happy first day of december ❤️💚 i wanted to ask you what, in your opinion, are the 5 most underrated dcoms? i remember you saying before that you've watched all of them so i'd love to hear your opinions 😊 - 🎅🎁🎄

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH secret santa you are so good! asking me all the best questions 💜

okay so i literally had to make a list of all the dcoms i consider underrated and then narrow down a top 5. theres lots of dcoms that i love, but that i think got the right amount of attention and care (like lemonade mouth and the teen beach movies, for example), so this list just focuses on ones that deserved more hype for their quality level.

5. The Cheetah Girls: One World (2008)

okay so even as i type this i feel like a hypocrite. i have only watched this movie one time. BUT i can acknowledge that its one of the most criminally underrated dcoms ever, tons of people didnt watch it simply because raven wasnt in it. thats why i avoided it as a child, and i didnt get around to watching it until i did my big dcom binge in 2016. and it was so good. theres a really long post floating somewhere around tumblr full of specifics on why its actually the best cheetah girls movie (my favorite is the second one purely out of nostalgia), so to paraphrase some points from that post:

its a solid example of cultural appreciation, rather than appropriation, as the girls go and learn about bollywood and indian culture together

the indian characters arent treated like props or unimportant sides, they get their own agency and storylines that are important

the songs are good!!!

basically this movie was overlooked and slept on even though in terms of role modeling and social value, and just like the first two cheetah girls movies it was important and impactful.

4. Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure (2011)

okay so as someone whos very neutral and occasionally negative-leaning towards the hsm franchise (mostly bc its overhyped and not really representative of all dcoms), i was pleasantly surprised by sharpays fabulous adventure. this is another one that i know lots of people skipped right over and dont hold with as much esteem as the main hsm franchise, and that doesnt sit right with me.

i do not agree with the “uwu sharpay was the real victim in hsm” arguments bc in their efforts to look galaxy brained the people who say that overlook the fact that she was a rich white woman who used her power and status to exercise control over opportunities that should have been fairly and freely available for all; they were not “making a mockery of her theater” in the first movie, they were literally just kids who wanted to try out a new school activity that everyone was supposed to be allowed to participate in; and despite allegedly learning her lesson and singing we’re all in this together with everyone at the end of the first movie, she literally showed no growth in the second movie as she fostered an openly hostile environment and favored troy so heavily that it literally cost him his friends, all as part of yet another jealous plan to take things away from people who already have less than her. she was NOT the victim in the main franchise, and she did not seem to exhibit any growth or introspection either.

and that!!! is why sharpays fabulous adventure was so important. in focusing on sharpay as the main character, they finally had to make her likeable. they did this by showing actual real growth and putting her outside of her sphere of influence and control. we saw true vulnerability from her, instead of the basic ass “mean girl is sad bc shes actually just super insecure” trope (cough cough radio rebel), and this opened us up to finally learn about and care about her character. throughout the movie we see her learn, from her love interests example, how to care for others and be considerate. she faces actual adversity and works through it, asking herself what she truly wants and what shes capable of. and in the end, when she finally has her big moment, we’re happy for her bc she worked hard to get there. she becomes a star through her own merit and determination, rather than through money and connections. this movie is not perfect by any means, but it is severely underrated for the amount of substance it adds to sharpays character.

3. The Swap (2016)

okay i know im gonna get shit for this but thats why its on this list!!! just like sharpays fabulous adventure, its not perfect and definitely misses the mark sometimes, but it deserves more attention and love for all the things it did get right!

the swap follows two kids who accidentally switch bodies because of their emotional attachment to their dead/absent parents’ phones. and while i normally HATE the tv/movie trope of a dead parent being the only thing that builds quick sympathy for a young character, they definitely expanded well enough to where we could root for these kids even without the tragedy aspect. we see them go through their daily struggles and get a feel for their motivations as characters pretty well. as a body switching movie, we expect it to be all goofy and wacky and lighthearted, but it moves beyond that in unexpected ways.

the reason the swap is on this list is for its surprisingly thoughtful commentary on gender roles. its by no means a feminist masterpiece, and its not going to radicalize kids who watch it, but it conveys a subtle, heartfelt message that deserves more appreciation. the characters struggle with the concept of gender in a very accurate way for their age, making off-base comments and feeling trapped by the weight of expectations they cant quite put their finger on. we watch them feel both at odds with and relieved by the gender roles they are expected and allowed to perform in each others bodies, and one of the most interesting parts of the movie to me is their interactions with the other kids around them. as a result of their feeling out of place in each others environments, the kids inadvertently change each others friendships for the better by introducing new communication styles and brave authenticity. 

the value of this movie is the subtle, but genuine way it shows the characters growing through being given the space to act in conflicting ways to their expected norms. ellie realizes that relationships dont have to be complex, confusing, and painful, and that its okay to not live up to appearances and images. jack learns that emotional expression is good, healthy, and especially essential to the grieving process. one of the most powerful scenes in the movie comes at the end where, after ellie confronts jacks dad in his body, jack returns as himself to a very heartfelt apology from his father for being too hard on him; the explicit message (”boys can cry”) is paired with an open expression of love and appreciation for his kids that he didnt feel comfortable displaying until his son set an example through honest communication. this is such an empowering scene and overall an empowering movie for kids who may feel stuck in their expected roles, as it sets a positive example for having the courage to break the restrictive societal mold. for its overall message of the importance of introspection and emotional intelligence, the swap is extremely underrated.

2. Freaky Friday (2018)

this is my favorite dcom, and probably my favorite movie at this point. ive always assigned a lot of personal value to this movie (and i love every freaky friday in general), for the message of selfless familial love and understanding. i know i can get carried away talking about this topic; i got an anon ask MONTHS ago asking me about the freaky friday movies and i wrote a super super long detailed response that i never posted bc i didnt quite finish talking about the 2018 movie. and thats bc on a personal level, i cant adequately convey all the love i have for this movie. so i will try to keep this short.

first lets state the obvious: the reason people dont like this movie is bc its not the lindsay lohan version. and i get that, to an extent, bc i also love the 2003 version and its one of my ultimate comfort movies, and grew up watching it and ive seen it a billion times. i even watched it a couple days ago. but the nostalgia goggles that people have on from the early 2000s severely clouds their judgement of the wonderful 2018 remake.

yes, the 2018 version is dorky, overly simplistic plot wise, a bit stiff at times, and super cheesy like any dcom. the writing isnt 100% all the time. the narrative takes a couple confusing turns. the song biology probably shouldnt have been included. i understand this. but at the heart of it all, this movies value is love. and its edge over all the other freaky friday movies is the songs.

on a personal level, the movie speaks heavily to me. i cried very early into my first viewing of the movie bc i got to see dara renee, a dark-skinned, non-skinny actress, playing the mean popular girl on disney channel. that has never happened before. growing up, i saw the sharpays and all the other super thin white women get to be the “popular” girls on tv, and ultimately they were taken down in the end for being mean, but that doesnt change the fact that they were given power and status in the first place for being conventionally beautiful. so, watching dara renee strut around confidently and sing about being the queen bee at this high school got to me immediately. and in general, the supporting cast members of color really mean a lot to me in this movie. we get to see adam, an asian male love interest for the main character. we have a second interracial relationship in the movie with katherines marriage to mike. ellies best friend karl is hispanic. and we see these characters have depth and plot significance, we see them show love, care, and passion for the things they value. the brown faces in this movie are comforting to me personally. additionally, the loving, blended family dynamic is important to me as someone in a close-knit, affectionate step-family.

but on a more general level, this movie is underrated for its skillful musical storytelling and the way it conveys all kinds of love and appreciation. in true freaky friday fashion, we watch ellie and katherine stumble and misstep in their attempts to act like each other. its goofy and fun. but through it all, the music always captures the characters’ intimate thoughts and feelings. the opening song gives us a meaningful view into ellie and katherines relationship and the fundamental misunderstandings that play a role in straining their connection. ellie sings about how she thinks her mom wants her to be perfect, and her katherine sings about all the wonderful traits she sees in her daughter and how she wants her to be more open and self assured. this is meaningful bc even as theyre mad at each other, the love comes through. the songs continue to bring on the emotional weight of the story, as ellie sings to her little brother about her feelings of hurt and abandonment in her fathers absence. the song “go” and its accompanying hunt scene always make me cry bc of the childlike wonder and sense of adventure that it brings. for the kids, its a coming of age, introspective song. for katherine who gets to participate in ellies body, its a reminder of youth and the rich, full life her daughter has ahead of her. she is overcome with excitement, both from getting to be a teenager again for a day, and from the realization that her daughter has a support network and passions that are all her own. today and ev’ry day, the second to last song, is the culmination of the lessons learned throughout the movie, a mother and daughters tearful commitment to each other to love, protect, and understand one another. the line “if today is every day, i will hold you and protect you, i wont let this thing affect you” gets to me every time. even when things are hard and dont go according to plan, they still agree, in this moment, to be there for each other. and thats what all freaky friday stories are ultimately about.

freaky friday 2018 is a beautiful, inclusive, subversive display of familial love, sacrifice, and selflessness, and it is underrated and overlooked because of its more popular predecessor.

1. Let It Shine (2012)

this is another one of my favorite dcoms and movies in the whole world. unlike the other movies on this list, it is not the viewers themselves that contribute to the underrated-ness of this movie. disney severely under-promoted and under-hyped this movie in comparison to its other big musical franchises, and i will give you five guesses as to why, but youll only need one!

let it shine is the most beautifully, unapologetically black dcom in the whole collection. (i would put jump in! at a notable second in this category, but that one wasnt underrated). this movie was clearly crafted with care and consideration. little black kids got to see an entire dcom cast that represented them. the vernacular used in the script is still tailored mostly to white-favoring audiences, but with some relevant slang thrown in there. in short, the writers got away with the most blackness they were allowed to inject into a disney channel project.

the story centers on rap music and its underground community in atlanta, georgia. it portrays misconceptions surrounding rap, using a church setting as a catalyst for a very real debate surrounding a generational, mutlicultural conflict. this was not a “safe” movie for disney, given its emphasis on religious clashes with contemporary values. it lightly touches on issues of image policing within the black community (cyrus’s father talking about how “our boys” are running around with sagging pants and “our girls” are straying away from god), which is a very real and pressing problem for black kids who feel the pressure (from all sides) of representing their whole race with their actions. its a fun, adorable story about being yourself and staying true to your art, but also a skillful representation of struggles unique to black and brown kids and children from religious backgrounds.

on top of crafting a fun, wholesome, thoughtful narrative and likeable protagonists, let it shine brought us what is in my opinion the BEST dcom soundtrack of all time. every single song is a bop. theyre fast, fun, and lyrically engaging. “me and you” is my favorite disney channel song of all time due to its narrative significance; i will never forget my first time watching the movie and seeing that big reveal unfold onstage, as a conversation and a plot summary all wrapped into a song. the amount of thought and care that went into the music of this movie should have been rewarded with a level of attention on par with that of other musical dcoms.

if disney channel had simply cared about let it shine more, it couldve spanned franchises and sold songs the way that other musical dcoms have drawn in success. i would have loved for a sequel that explored and fleshed out cyrus’s neighborhood a little bit more, and maybe dipped into that underground scene they caught a glimpse of. i wanted a follow up on the changed church community once cyrus’s father started supporting his sons vision. i want so much more for these characters and this world than disney gave them in just one movie.

for its bold, unabashed representation of blackness and religion, subtle, nuanced presentation of race-specific issues, strong, likeable characters, and complex, thoughtful songs, let it shine is the most underrated dcom.

and because i made a full list before i started writing this post, here are some honorable mentions:

going to the mat (2004)

gotta kick it up! (2002)

tru confessions (2002)

dont look under the bed (1999)

invisible sister (2015)

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 55

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA 

(FINAL CHAPTER)

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48 || CHAPTER 49 || CHAPTER 50 || CHAPTER 51 || CHAPTER 52 || CHAPTER 53 || CHAPTER 54

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -5.2k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified the sequel is posted, message me!

- note for this chapter: i mean, this is it. this is the end. not really because you all know theres a sequel but its still super big to me. ive been writing for 22 years and its the very first time i finish a real story. im super proud of this story and it has over 220k words, which is something i’ve obviously never done before. im also super happy to post this last chapter on the same day Niall’s second album comes out. idk why i just think its cool lmao! 

i would appreciate so so soooo so much your comments for this chapter but also what you think will happen in the sequel or what you want to happen in the sequel. also, anything about the characters, the storyline, the ending... honestly, whatever comes to your mind about this story, good or bad, comments or suggestions... please send it to me! thank you!!!

okay so here it is. :D

Chapter 55 : Her FINAL chapter

OLIVIA

I ended up rushing outside and walking as fast as I could. It took me a few seconds to realize it was pouring outside but it didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered. I was crying but I was still walking fast, letting the tears fall down my cheeks and the sobs getting out of my mouth without shame. It was only after about 10 minutes of walk that i realized I didn't even take my car but when that realization came to me, I still didn't give a fuck.

I was mad at Niall for hurting me and mad at myself for making him the center of my universe for so long. I was so lost without him. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I didn't know who I was, who I wanted to be... I didn't know how to breathe or how to live. I was so pissed at myself for giving one person so much power over me and I hated it. Niall could live without me, he could breathe, he knew who he was and what he wanted, and he had proved it only a few minutes ago. And that made me realize that I was completely wrong about love. It isn't to make one with the person you love. Your lover shouldn't be your other half. Even if the thought sounded incredibly romantic, when you took the time to think about it, it was ridiculous. I was someone without Niall, I just didn't know who yet.

That simple concept made my heart jump in my chest and I started running. I ran fast, feeling my backpack hit the bottom of my back with every step. I ran as fast as I could until my throat burned, until my legs hurt. The sound of my feet on the cement as it echoed on the walls of the houses around seemed to go in rhythm with the beatings of my heart and when I'd run in a pool of water, I heard it splash on me until the bottom of my sweatpants were soaked. In fact, when I stopped running, I was completely drenched and totally out of breath. I stopped because the person I was looking for was standing only a few meters away from me. He was panting too, I could see his chest raise up and down quickly as he tried to catch his breath and my eyes roamed on him until I noticed locks of his hair stuck on his forehead because of the rain. He was soaked too and I swallowed hard. Seeing him so vulnerable made me realize that's probably how I looked too. I felt my own hair stick to my face and my shirt to my back.

"Olivia."

He had talked a bit louder than usual, trying to make his voice reach me despite the distance and the noise of the rain hitting the paving of the sidewalk where we were both standing.

"I was... I was going to see you." he explained, still panting. "I just... I needed to talk to you. I was sitting on the couch and I just... I rushed out."

My legs had brought me to him while his were also bringing him to me and that thought made me sob. I brought my hand to my mouth to stop it until I saw him start crying too. He was literally weeping in front of me and I wanted to run to him and take him in my arms but I was motionless, like stuck in quicksand.

"Olivia, I got a girl pregnant." he added even louder in-between sobs.

I kept staring at him and swallowed with difficulty again before my lips parted.

"Niall broke up with me."

I don't know how long we stayed just away from each other, standing in the rain but at some point, I felt a shiver run across my back and after half a second, I was in his arms. He held me close, his arms wrapped around my neck and his forehead leaning on the top of my head. He smelled good, he felt great and when he cried again, I squeezed him tighter against me.

The rain kept falling over us but neither of us cared. We just held onto each other while everything was falling apart around us and we were each other's only hope. He brought me inside after a while and let me borrow some clothes, leaving me alone in his room to get changed. I took my clothes off and used the towel he gave me to dry my body. I quickly put his sweatpants and shirt on and started rubbing the towel in my hair as I walked very slowly around his room.

It was modern and classy, just like him, and I always liked the nice and soft carpet he had picked. I let my feet brush on it as I reached the other side of the bed, suddenly curious. There was a bunch of pictures in his room, pictures of his family and friends but there was one small frame that was turned face down on the bedside table. I took it and stared for a few seconds at the smiling faces of Louis and Eleanor, feeling myself tear up again. Two love stories were now ruined and over and I didn't understand what exactly had happened to us.

I sighed and put the frame back exactly where it was before going to the bathroom and hanging the towels behind the door. I came back to the room and smiled slightly as I pushed a pile of dirty clothes on the side and went back to the living room. Louis had made tea and mine was waiting for me on the coffee table. He was sitting down and I noticed he had changed too. His hair, unlike mine, was almost dry already and when he felt my presence, he turned to me and made a quick head movement to incite me to get closer. I breathed in and joined him on the couch, taking the mug with both hands to warm myself a bit before bringing it to my lips.

"Lady grey." I whispered, the left corner of my lips rising a bit.

"With a cloud of milk and no sugar." he added. "Your favorite."

I turned to him and tilted my head.

"Sugar ruins tea." I pointed out as he answered my smile.

"It does, darlin'."

I loved Louis. Everything was so simple with him, even more than with Harry. Perhaps the fact that Louis and I were only friends helped too. I was never only friends with Harry, and I was never only friends with Niall. There were always some romantic or lust feelings involved. I stared at Louis and blinked a few times before taking a few more sips of my tea. The hot beverage warmed my whole body but couldn't get rid of the persistent ache in my heart, unfortunately.

"Do you think it'll always hurt like that?"

"Yes."

It was not the answer I expected and he probably read it in my face because he moved a bit to sit better and face me. I was desperate for human contact and I just wanted to cuddle him but I waited, the fingers of one of my hands playing nervously with the fabric of the couch.

"He's your soulmate just like El is my soulmate." he explained and I could swear I heard his voice crack. "It'll hurt forever."

I swallowed again but felt a tear run down my cheek without wiping it off.

"What are we gonna do, Louis?"

He looked down at his lap and sighed loud. We were both sad and lost and we had no idea what to do with our pain. I moved a bit closer and grabbed his hand on the back of the couch. Immediately, he squeezed my fingers with his.

"I don't know, Liv." he admitted, shaking his head. "And I don't think we'll find out tonight."

I nodded, keeping his hand in mine, as a bunch of thoughts invaded my mind. Would I see Niall again? Would I even be able to be around him without crying or hurting? That didn't seem likely. How would I react when i'd see him with an other girl? Whether I still kept him in my life or not, i'll know about the girls he dates since it'll be all over the net. Niall is discreet, it's true, but he can't hide forever. Plus, we have a few common friends, including Louis.

"Why didn't you fight?" I heard, taking me out of my thoughts. "That's not you Olivia, you always fight for what you want."

I sent him a sad smile and shrugged, running my thumb on top of his hand as I stared at it.

"I saw his face, Louis. It was not a random decision. It was well-thought. It's something he had in mind for a while. I couldn't have done anything about it."

An other moment of silence and I licked my lips.

"Is it Briana?" I wondered in a low tone, looking up only to see him nod slowly. "Is she gonna keep it?"

"Yes."

My heart jumped in my chest. "When did you find out?"

"A week ago."

I raised my eyebrows up in surprise, a bit hurt that he hadn't told me before but I also knew I was the first person he told and that made me feel special. I shouldn't make this about me, it was selfish of me, but it felt good nonetheless to have someone who trusts me, loves me and wants me in his life.

"What are you gonna do?"

Louis sighed again and moved on his seat without letting go of my hand.

"The best I can." he shook his head, still avoiding my eyes. "I'll be the best father in the world."

His answer made me smile and I tilted my head, staring at him. There was something about Louis, something strong and rough. He was a hard-shell with a soft core and it was probably the only thing we didn't really have in common.

"There's no doubt you'll be the best father on the planet."

His lips curled as he kept staring down and I started thinking about Niall again and that time we had talked about having kids. I felt something stir in my stomach and swallowed again to get rid of the nauseous feeling hitting me. I didn't want a family with anyone else and I closed my eyes, trying to mourn the perfect life I've always wanted.

"I wish I had kissed him one last time." I whispered, feeling more tears coming to my eyes. "I missed that chance. I miss how he tastes, how he smells. I miss him."

"You would always hope for 'one last time', Liv. You'd always want an other 'one last kiss'."

He was right but I didn't tell him, instead, I looked down and sniffed before licking my lips.

"I don't even know why he broke up with me. He just said he was not ready to commit, that he knew we'd last forever and he was not ready for that. To me, it makes no fucking sense. When you love someone, you don't care about the other people you could sleep with, you don't care about your freedom because you are free." I tried to explain, getting a bit worked up. "I didn't stop him from doing anything, did I? Was I a crazy, jealous, controlling girlfriend?"

This time, I looked up when I felt Louis move closer. His eyes found mine and he blinked a few times, letting go of my hand to cup my face. I could feel his breath on my face and my lips parted.

"Some people are ready to do anything to prove to themselves that they're not trapped." he let out slowly and in a low tone. "It's on them. Not on you."

My eyes roamed on his face and my heart skipped a beat. I loved that man so much and he deserved so much better than all this pain. I felt his thumbs brush gently on my skin and nodded slowly. Louis always said what he thought when you asked him for an opinion and he always told you things you didn't want to hear but needed to. That, we had in common, that's why this friendship was so real and raw, and also why we got along so well. We were also not touchy or easily offended, which helped.

He moved back a bit and I felt his fingers brush my face as they slid down.

"I know we'd normally get drunk off our asses, but i'm too tired to get pissed. Tomorrow?" His eyebrows raised up and I just nodded. "You can take my bed, it's more comfortable. I'll take the guest room."

"No Louis, it's fine I can-"

"Shut up, princess." he cut me quickly, frowning even more this time. "You take my bed and that's it."

I felt my lips curl and just nodded. He winked at me and smiled before getting up and I followed him slowly to his room. I watched him grab the covers and gripped his elbow quickly.

"Louis, I'm not disgusted by your sheets, you don't have to change them."

He sighed and looked at me for a few seconds before nodding.

"If you're hungry, you take anything in the kitchen, if you need meds or anything, it's in the bathroom. Basically, take anything you need okay? It's all good with me."

I nodded and he pushed the covers before I sat in bed. It took me a minute or two but I finally lied down and brought the blankets on me, feeling tears coming to my eyes again. I didn't want to be alone, it scared me like hell, and if I was about to cry all night, I didn't want to do it by myself.

"Goodnight, Olivia." he just said, turning the light off as he walked out.

Something jumped in my stomach and I sat up quickly.

"Louis!"

He turned around to look at me and our eyes met. I held my breath and licked my lips, unsure if he could see me in the dark but I could clearly see him because of the lights from the hall, illuminating him.

"Please, stay, okay?"

It seemed like I waited an hour just looking at him, waiting for him to reject me but in the end, he nodded and walked away. He turned the lights off and I watched his shadow walk back into the room. My eyes followed him as he got around the bed and under the covers with me. I turned his way and moved closer without touching him and he did the same as we remained silent. I blinked a few times until I got used to the darkness and finally sighed loud.

"Can we spoon?"

"We can spoon."

I turned around, untwisting my shirt and he waited until I stopped wiggling to wrap his arm around me. I closed my eyes and for a few seconds, I imagined I was in Niall's arms, in his bed, but the fantasy was hard to keep. The truth was, it didn't feel the same because Louis was not Niall. No one was Niall.

"I wish I was with El right now. I wish she was the one pregnant with my child." Louis whispered, probably trying to convince himself that the girl he was spooning was the girl he was in love with and not his best friend.

"I wish I was with Niall, right now. I wish he loved me more than his freedom."

"I don't know how to deal with the pain, Livi." he whispered, his voice cracking despite how low it was. "I don't know how to get back up and move forward."

"I wish I could help you but I don't know either."

"I just want to ease the pain." he let out quickly. "At first, getting drunk and high worked but the more I do it, the less it works. I could beg you, Livi, help me."

My heart started aching and I shut my eyes tight as I swallowed.

"I've always dealt with pain the same way, and it's a very very bad way, Louis." I confessed, shaking my head. "It's toxic."

"Tell me."

I rolled on my back and he stared down at me, his hand now laying on my stomach. I wanted to move it away from me but the way his pinky brushed against the skin of my stomach did something to me, something it really shouldn't do.

"I don't know, Louis."

"Does it work?" he asked, and despite how dark it was, I could see hope in his eyes.

"Mmhm." i just answered, now daring to talk.

"For how long?"

My lips parted and I shrugged. "A few hours, it depends."

"I'll take a few painless hours." he insisted. "Please."

Slowly, I reached for his hands under the covers and slid it up on my stomach. I couldn't believe I was doing that and I knew I risked a lot. I risked the only strong friendship I had left. Whether we did anything or not, it could make things awkward between us and that thought was scary as hell. I had lost Niall, I couldn't bare to lose Louis, too. Right before his hand reached my breasts, I pushed it away and shook my head. I was not ready to risk that.

"Forget it, it's a bad idea." I closed my eyes, trying to get my heartbeats back to a normal pace.

"Fuck no."

My heart skipped an other beat as it jumped in my chest and I felt his hand move back to my stomach. His fingers brushed on my skin and I felt my eyes flutter. I didn't know why, but I wanted this.

"That's how you deal?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Fuck the pain away?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"You said you slept with nine persons in your life but it wasn't true, right?"

Slowly, his hand traveled my stomach and I just shrugged slightly.

"Only nine that mattered." I explained in a whisper. "The others don't count. It doesn't count if I don't know your name."

"You know my name." he murmured, moving his face a bit closer. "Do you want to make it ten?"

I sent him a smile and chuckled very low. Fuck yes I wanted it, but the fact that he did too was laughable.

"You can close your eyes and pretend i'm someone else." I just let out, licking my lips again. "I won't be mad, I know i'm not your type."

"Who said that?"

I brought my hand to his face and pressed my palm on his stubble.

"I've seen the girls you fancy." I shrugged again. "It doesn't matter, it's just to push the pain away for a while, yea? We'll be best friends again tomorrow, right?"

"And we'll never talk about it again if that's what you want."

I laughed a bit, feeling suddenly nervous, and moved my hand in his hair. I felt my fingers slip in it as I pushed his head my way gently.

"I heard i'm not so bad of a lay so, just leave the lights off and you'll be fine."

This time, he's the one who laughed.

"Are you gonna imagine i'm Niall?" he asked, making me frown.

"No!" I let out a bit too loud. "I want to forget about him for an hour, that would be counterproductive."

"Then why do you think i'd want to imagine someone else?" he asked again. "You think so low of yourself all the fooking time, Olivia."

By then, his hand had reached my breasts and I noticed it was under my shirt. He ran his hand on one and I felt my inner thighs throb so hard I almost whimpered.

"Okay, we can try, and if it doesn't work..."

"It's already working."

My lips parted slightly and my eyes roamed on his face. He moved closer but it's only when his lips pressed on mine that I closed my eyes. Slowly and gently, his lips parted mine and I never thought I needed affection as bad as I did. It had been only a few hours since Niall broke up with me but I felt so lonely and craving this intimacy with someone was not something that should surprise me. Louis was not anyone, anyway, and sharing that with him, although a bit awkward, felt better than I thought, even if I had never really thought about it before that night.

I thought he'd be more the impatient, rough and cheeky kind of guy but his hand traveled so slowly on me it took everything in me not to beg him to go quicker. I felt his fingertips brush against my nipple and my whole body started throbbing. I was desperate to be touched, desperate to be loved, desperate to feel alive.. and Louis was doing just that.

I sucked my stomach in when his hand ran down but spread my legs when he slipped his hand in my sweatpants. My back arched immediately at his touch, his whole hand pressing on my pussy until I felt two of his fingers slip inside me. This time, I held my breath and tensed as his mouth left mine. He brushed his lips down my neck and I slipped my hand in his hair. He smelled good, he tasted good, and I tried to suppress the image of Niall that quickly came to my mind without much success. I started tearing up and swallowed hard but when Louis brought his lips back on mine, I relaxed suddenly.

"I know you like it rough and hard but this is not what we need tonight, is it?" he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he talked.

I shook my head and brought his closer, crushing his lips against mine. It should have hurt but it made me lust him even more and I let my hand travel to his neck and down his chest until it reached his sweatpants too. I heard him groan low and it made me feel dizzy. I pressed my hand on the front of his pants and felt him grind against it as my lips parted again and I started panting. I was excited and impatient but I didn't know if it was because of what I was about to do with Louis, or if it was because I knew I wouldn't feel pain for a while. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

I felt him move my pants down and helped him, pushing them with my feet at the bottom of the bed. I took my shirt off quickly as he did the same and after I pushed his pants down too, he quickly moved on top of me. I spread my legs and ground up without thinking, feeling his hard cock press on my inner thighs but I held my breath when he started kissing down my neck and chest. He gave a special attention to my tummy and it surprised me a bit but I couldn't seem to relax at all, feeling suddenly insecure. I wanted to tell him he didn't have to do that, that we could just make out and fuck, but his lips pressed on my pussy and I let out a curse word. I thought he'd go fast but he moved his lips and tongue so slowly on me that I felt my eyes roll back. I slid my hand under the blanket and found the back of his head only to press his face more on my pussy. I started seeing spots behind my eyelids and I knew I was getting close. I felt one of my legs start shaking and gripped his hair tight when an orgasm hit me hard.

"Oh my god!"

He didn't stop, he kept moving his tongue on me for a while, even after I relaxed, and I enjoyed the post-orgasm attention. He finally got back out of the covers and kissed me again, his mouth leaving an aftertaste of my orgasm on my own tongue.

"Mm, lay down okay?" I whispered, allowing our mouths to part briefly. "Your turn."

His kisses were getting more passionate and impatient and when he let out a low "No", I frowned.

"No?"

"I can't. Not now." he whispered again, kissing me harder. "You taste fookin' good, you know that?"

That confession made me smile and made my heart jump at the same time. I lost my smile when I felt him push himself slowly inside me and wrapped my arms around his chest as I moved my knees up.

"Oh god, fuck me." I whispered, feeling him smirk against my mouth.

"That's the plan."

I chuckled and he pushed himself completely inside me, making my head move back as I whimpered. I was impatient and I ran my hands on his back as I ground up again to feel him deeper.

"You feel... so fucking good."

He didn't answer, he just kissed me harder his elbows leaning on the mattress on each side of my head , and I brought my hands behind me on the wall to move in motion with him as he started thrusting in and out of me, slowly at first but quicker and harder until I felt close to an other orgasm.

"Oh fuck i'm gonna cum again." I murmured, bringing one of my hands to his hair again.

"Do it princess, cum for me, I want to feel you clench around me."

His words and his voice made me reach my peak immediately and I started shaking beneath him, my lips parted as his reached for my neck. He started biting me, amplifying my orgasm as I felt him reach his. His thrusts became unsteady and rough when he tried to push himself deeper before he just stopped moving. I could feel his body tremble slightly and when he finally relaxed, I kept my eyes closed. I was on the verge of tears and I was not even sure why.

Louis rolled away from me as we both lied down on our backs, watching the ceiling. I was suddenly scared that it had changed something between us, something that meant that we could never go back to that friendship we had.

"It worked. I'm not in pain right now." he admitted as I shut my eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again.

"I'm okay too."

He found my hand between us on the mattress and squeezed my fingers tight. I didn't know if this was a good idea but it did serve the purpose and for now, that was going to be enough.

"Why didn't you want me to blow you?"

He chuckled and finally turned his head my way. It took me a few seconds but I did the same and when our eyes met, I realized he was smirking and it made me smile.

"You said it only stopped the pain for about an hour, yea?" he asked, making me nod and frown. "I'm keeping it for round two. If you're willing, of course."

I let my eyes roam on his face again and I smiled more, bringing my hand to his cheek.

"I am."

                                         --

Surprisingly, we ended up having sex a few times on that night, in-between a few hours of slumber and cuddling, and when I woke up, I turned around in bed to hide my face from the sun only to realize he was not in bed anymore. I kept my eyes close and my heart started aching again but I breathed in deeply and finally sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was still naked and searched the bed for my clothes before I actually found them on the floor, and quickly put them back on.

I walked to the kitchen with a yawn as I pulled on my hair without much success. Louis turned to me and smiled when our eyes met.

"Nice hair, princess." he chuckled. "That's what your sex hair looks like... Interesting!"

"You're such an arse I swear." I grimaced, amused, as I let myself fall on one of this chairs. "Are you really making breakfast?"

"Bacon, eggs, and toasts." he explained, putting a plate in front of me. "Nothing too fancy."

I let out a laugh when I noticed he made eyes with the eggs and a mouth with the bacon, making him smile more.

"You're an idiot, Tommo." I just said with a chuckle. "But thank you."

"For the breakfast?"

"And for last night."

He stopped moving completely but stared down at his plate and suddenly, I felt extremely guilty. I had ruined things between us just like I was scared I had and I swallowed hard. I couldn't lose Louis, I couldn't handle losing him.

"Shit, you regret it, don't you?"

He looked up and his eyes met mine before he frowned and shook his head a bit.

"Olivia, we had sex five fucking times. You don't regret five fucks that happened on the same night." he pointed out, making me breathe out the air I wasn't even aware I was holding. "I just thought we wouldn't talk about it anymore, I thought that's what you wanted."

It took me a few seconds to answer and I just licked my lips.

"It happened. I don't regret it. And I sure as hell won't forget it." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm just scared it'll change things between us."

"It won't. You're my best friend. That won't change."

I sent him a small smile and nodded, feeling a bit relieved. I knew I would be sure that nothing had changed between us only after a few days of hanging out like we used to but I trusted Louis and I knew he'd tell me if he thought things were different now.

"What are you gonna do now?"

We had both heard and asked this question a lot in the past 12 hours but I just sighed again, shaking my head.

"I'm just gonna... survive for a while I guess." I explained, taking a sip of my coffee. "And then i'll just... i'll work on myself. There are so many parts of me I noticed when I was with Niall, so many things I felt, so many flaws I have... that I need to work on. I think that's what i'll do. Work on meself."

When I looked up at my best friend, he was smiling. Not smirking the way he usually does, but sincerely smiling and it made me smile too.

"I know I always call you 'princess' but... you just turned into a 'queen' now."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Why? Because of what we did last night?"

"No, silly!" he chuckled and rolled his eyes too. "But what you just said? That's wise. It's actually inspiring me."

"Then let's both do that." I suggested. "We need to take care of ourselves, do things we like, work on us and... and find out who we really are. Who we are without them, as a whole... as complete human beings."

He tilted his head and his eyes became smaller as he studied me.

"Let's do that, queen." he agreed with a nod, making me grin even more. "Love you."

"Love you too."

[willowistic22]

"It's Pacific, not Specific" for whoever you'd like?

Left this, and other prompts, untouched bcs online school is not letting me have time for myself most of the time wow love that :D no we don’t D: But I got this done finally and Im hopefully gonna be finishing more of the prompts quicker. Sorry for the delay guys! Fun fact: I wrote this and fully ignored my teacher lol. I am not a good role model I know but I live by that!

Requests prompts and a ship or just a character in general! Will take some time to get to them but I’ll try my best to do it :) Or not I’m not the boss of you hehe 

Years of dating and now nearly one year married, the couple hasn’t really gone on a honeymoon. For the entirety of their marriage, they haven’t gotten the chance to even travel. They say they’re busy, which they aren’t wrong. Getting used to a life with someone you commit to for a lifetime is a huge change, even if you’ve known each other for so long.

But now that they’ve steadied their financial situation, adapted to a new schedule, and fully decorate their new apartment, Mush insists they finally get to the honeymoon on their list of ‘cheesy things newly married couples do that I’m forcing Blink to do with me’. Blink laughed it off the first time he heard it, thinking it as a joke. It was definitely not a joke when Mush finally shows him the clipboard he made in his free time. 

Well, Blink isn’t going to complain. Traveling is fun. Now, deciding where to travel is a whole different thing. 

“France?” Blink pointed to the map of its location. He is seated in front of the kitchen island, while Mush is busy cooking them dinner. The sizzling noises mostly has his attention but he heard Blink loud and clear. 

“Paris, France? Or another city?” Mush called, slightly twisting his head just enough to get his voice across but kept his eyes on the food to avoid burning it. 

“Well, we could go to another city if you’d like” Blink explained, now directing his focus to his laptop as he types in the city name for further research, “There’s  Champs-Élysées, the Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame, Louvre Museum...” 

“So the cliche touristy attraction” Mush simplified, twisting his body to face his husband. 

“Well, we don’t necessarily need to go to all the tourist attraction!” 

“Hmm... I heard the countryside is beautiful...” 

Blink leans his body, hope resonating his manner as he watches him intently coming up with an answer. 

“Maybe we should keep looking” 

Blink rolls his eyes and scoffs, slouching his back along with it. “Mush, I’ve listed 43 different countries all around the globe-” 

Mush laughs at himself, listening to Blink going on a mini venting session whilst also trying to suppress his anger. He fully stops his cooking to take a full look at the blond sitting behind the kitchen island. 

“-all with different characteristics from each other, by the way! And you’re telling me, you don’t want to go to any of those countries?!” 

Mush wasn’t sure if he was suppose to answer this truthfully. Because the truth is: none of the places Blink listed sat right with him for their terribly belated honeymoon. He isn’t sure why, some of those countries are on his traveling bucket list. 

Blink scoffs, jaws dropped down to the floor. He’s at lost for words and ends up not bothering to find an answer to that, dragging his gaze back to his laptop screen. 

“Well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to go there!” Mush defended himself, dropping the hand to his sides holding the spatula, “I just... don’t feel like it fits for our honeymoon... you know?” 

To that, Blink’s senses shot up. He lifts his face to give his husband a troubled look after hearing that statement, “How does ‘Bali’ not fit for a honeymoon? It’s a stereotypical beach honeymoon place!” 

“Well... I... I don’t know!” Mush said through his laugh, shrugging his shoulders with his hands as a means to show how clueless he is. 

Blink breathes out the frustration and back to his usual calm composure. He sighs, curving his lips into a small smile with a lazy gaze directed to the chef, “Why don’t you tell me how you’d picture our honeymoon looking like”

They fully agreed to commit to this honeymoon, so there’s no taking back this decision. So the least Blink can do is be patient with Mush’s indecisiveness. Though, he was already preparing himself for this before they were even married.

“I want to go to somewhere small. Exploring the country sides perhaps?” Mush said as he turns the stove off seeing their food is properly cooked, “But then there’s that small part of me that wants to go somewhere quite busy and play in the beach! You see my problem here?”

Blink breathes out a chuckle through his nose, shaking his head with a hand perched on the kitchen island to hold up his tired head. His eye contact with him remains all while Mush moves around the kitchen to set up their food.

“Hey, you mentioned Hawaii, right?” Mush said, “That sounds nice, y’know. We can look deeper into it”

As the sizzling stops the moment Mush sets their food on a serving plate, Blink’s typing on his laptop now occupying the void.

“Well, there’s a lot of things we can do there” Blink called out once the tab fully loaded for him to decipher.

“Yeah, I mean, there’s the cuisines, the culture...” Mush exclaimed while setting their food on the dining table, “... Just a quick trip across the specific ocean!”

Blink shot his senses up to that, not sure if he heard it right. He turns his body to see Mush by the dining table, minding his own business as if he did not just say that. A grin slowly formed on his face, “Come again?” 

“What?” 

“Say that again, I wanna hear it one more time” 

Mush’s confusion decorates his face upon hearing that. He stops his actions and wait for further explanation from him. 

“It’s Pacific, not specific!” Blink laughed out.

That just adds on to his confusion, tilting his head to the side, “Ain’t that what I said?” 

“No! You literally said ‘specific’!” Blink answered as he continues to laugh, “Is that how you thought it’s pronounced this whole time?!” 

Mush is still visibly confused. He could’ve sworn he said ‘Pacific’, yet his husband is proclaiming otherwise. 

“I did not say ‘specific’! I know how to pronounce ‘Pacific’, alright!” Mush finds himself getting sucked in to his laughter. 

Blink stops his laughing and looks at Mush intently with a sweet smile. The humor of it hasn’t left him but he’s able to hold it back to properly speak up, “Whatever you say I guess” 

The big question still looms between them but Mush pulls Blink away from his laptop to have a peaceful dinner. The spaghetti is going to turn cold if they don’t eat it now. 

“Mykonos!” Blink suddenly announced after swallowing his last bite, eyes lit up under the huge orange lights hovering over the table. 

Mush simply tilts his head at it. The sudden outburst got him confused since they weren’t having a conversation. Blink takes his silence, and still visible confusion, as a sign to explain even further. 

“It’s an island in the Cyclades group in the Aegean Sea. It has lots of beaches and can probably be considered as small” Blink continues on. He pushes his chair back and gets up while balancing his dirty dishes to put it in the sink for later clean up. 

Mush follows him putting away his own dirty dishes before following Blink to perch behind his laptop again. He shows Mush a small review by someone from their vacation to Mykonos he found in the internet. 

He reads the text carefully, squinting his eyes a little. Blink watches full of hope that their big question will finally be answered. 

“Okay, this should be fun!” Mush exclaimed, earning a sigh of relief from the blond on the stool. Mush simply laughs at the dramatic act before he walks towards the sink since tonight is his turn on doing the dishes. 

While the water flows down to wash off the plates, Blink can be heard typing away on his laptop now that he can finally proceed to the second step of their honeymoon plan. Mush occasionally answering the questions Blink asks to fill in more of the blanks. They’ve made much more progress in their plan in one night than the time when they haven’t decided where to go weeks ago. 

[moonlightjeno]

swashbuckle and islands

a/n : this boy will be the death of me i love him so much. excuse my horrible grammar. my fav gif, and has nothing to do with the story lol but enjoyyy

genre : angst + fluff

pairing : readerxjeno & readerxmark

word count : 2.6k

okay,

okie, be ready for this mess

and excuse any non spaced words my space bar isn’t working properly

cool so your from an island

which imma call Skye bc i can

now your mum is originally from Skye, and had like second cousins of a cousin or whatever to throne but she married you father who was from the mainland 

which is a big no no but at the time she didn’t care bc she was so in love

skip forward a couple of years and the father is a complete ass

doesn’t work or really do much except order your mum around

anyone who has a wonderful father or really good parents im sorry don’t attack me this is for the story

:)

so, mum has had you and your older brother, whom your brother continues to admire your father bc he really just wants love and is hella lost in this mess of a world

Moving on

you used to have a really good relationship with your father until he changed.

cheated on your mother, and would blame it on you mum

in response you really just tried to help you mum get through this mess

big big mess

your brother, at the beginning helped and tried to calm your father  

boy kinda gave up, hela understandable

and left to the mainland to study medicine

wooot go him

but you were devastated because you were now alone 

now bc your brother has left your father has really worsened and blocks your freedom more and more

The point where you were literally only allowed to like go to school, work in the fields and be a servant

sksksk 

now remember how your mum was like the second cousin or smth to the royal crown?

Twas was importanttt

that managed to get you a study abroad year in london, 

queue your best friend mark entering

this boy showed you what freedom was and felt like for the first time since your father went off rails

iss been like a good 13 years and you're like 16 ??

I digress

mark literally made you feel more yourself because of his natural outgoing and easy behavior

It really was pretty amazing

And then the hiding and going out late at night was over

It was back to no friends, working at the field

sad life tbh

I must note, that because mark lived in canada bc why tf not 

y’all couldn’t really communicate

this is set when pirates where a thing, think of pirates of the caribbean 

I love those movies 

okie, progress two years 

of you thanks to you mum’s second cousin related human lol

you became friends with the cousins friends daughter 

y’all really had known each other since they were smol 

but hadn’t really been friends, bc the girl was pretty quite and a beaut

even her own father treated her better than she treated her own daughter

smh, ik this is a cliche live with it

but overall she was a really good person and kinda managed to sneak you around the island when you weren't on “duty” for your father

though its not that you didn’t like working in the fields bc you loved helping out with the animals and occasionally give food to those who were less fortunate than you and really couldn’t afford it

being a trooper, that you are you often told your friend idk wanna give her a name so y’all could come up with one if it were up to me it would be lilith about what you would see around the island and how the country was pretty not doing a okay

she would listen and talk about her own problems and how she wished she could travel and paint everything 

Bonding over traveling yep yeo

one day, you were supposed to work in the fields as you tend to have to do to the cows, and sheep and horses, while picking up the apples? from the trees ??

Idk i don’t farm

either wayyyy

you had finished your tasks early, and had struggled, and i mean stRuGgLed to get away from your father

he was in one of his moods today, shouting at everyone and refusing to admit he needed help

it was a constant reminder of every bad thing every failure that could happen in your life every thing you didn’t want for yourself or your mum who had slowly been getting sick and y’all had some money that could have helped her but your father thought that she deserved the illness

and i quote he said “everything happens for a reason child, if your mother had treated me and had been a good person this wouldn’t have happened to her, but alas some people deserve what they get”

skskskks 

he continued to say how “i on the other hand, have been a good man all my life, have always helped others so i don’t get sick”

this man i swear to god this has actually happened help

being very much done with your father who you really wished would just disappear and leave you and your mom who no longer lived with you but now lived with lilith to be

you had thought of running away for a very long time, though never knew how to get off the island it seemed impossible

sure you knew how to fight, somewhat by watching the guards and the little training mark you had taught your two years ago. 

missing mark hours but it wouldn’t compare to the guards of the royals who would never aid you

and even if they had, you had never learned how to sail which was ironic as the island you lived in wasn’t very large. Your only method of transportation has been your legs and your families faithful horse lethian ?? who really was your favorite out of all the animals 

running away from the trapped life had always felt like a dream, one that you had lived for for the small year in london with mark

you thought about running away again, the idea of sneaking into a trading boat slowly forming in your mind

you could take her your mum and lilith and travel the world go to london again and paris and canada and re-unite with the friend you missed the most

a smile had formed on your previous grim face, the dream something you held onto until your eyes opened and smoke covered the sky

a ringing began in your ears and you tried to stop it, your hands covering your ears in an attempt to stop the noise but the ringing only got stronger

the sky was black, shots were heard were the village people yelled in panic

you looked out towards the sea and could see the outline of a ship

a very large ship

oh shit 

a pirate ship

the flag blew proudly in the boat and from where you stood the bone white skull that contrasted against the black around it was made visible everytime the wind blew 

you gasped, everything anyone had told you about pirates were that they weren’t to be trusted

they were ruthless and would do nothing to stop from getting what they wanted

the stories you'd heard all came to the same conclusion you see the flag you run in the other direction

you pace quickened and in small time you were running towards the blazing village now up in smokes fire and fog covering the bakery, and fields

the school that had taught you the basics of reading and writing until girls weren’t allowed to attend was a blaze royal guards their black and purple uniforms waved their hands around and pointed their too heavy too unbalanced swords not being of much use

mom 

she should be safe

safe with lilith you thought, looking back towards were the small castle stood its bold flag still flying proudly in the grey and black sky

safe , shes safe you keep telling yourself a constant buzz that you repeated over and over to yourself in order to continue moving towards the castle walls

you only lasted a solid five minutes before the guards were holding the civilians back

you sighed angry these idiots being more preoccupied with holding back the citizens who were trying to get to safety behind the castle walls than actually dealing with the threat at hand

who hired them really??

being the stubborn human you are you decided to head towards the back entrance as yuo saw a flash of blonde hair headin towards the back gate of the castle 

oh no was your immediate thought their gonna get to lilith and mum

all the guards had been directed out of castle except a few that had stayed inside to keep the royal fam safe the infirmary had been left unguarded

you looked around trying to look for a familiar face, a familiar guard who youd seen at a practice lilith had dragged you too she had said it was too “admire suitors” you had shaken your head and laughed 

you had no interest in tying yourself to a man that would treat you like something to throw around but you let her revel in her fantasies 

no familiar face was found so you turned and ran towards the blonde head you had seen walk towards the back entrance grabbing a sword from one of the dead guards 

your cursed the clothes women were given making it impossible to run in impossible to fight in 

the blonde boy turned around at your approach, he was young you noticed

probably your age, his grin was deviant and his eyes were mocking as she approached 

“please” you tried “don’t hurt hurt anyone else” 

the boy looked at you with a puzzled look at laughed, slashing away at the thorns and vines that encircled the back door to the castle as he found the lock and tried to break it open

you got closer, looking at the broken glass bottles that littered the floor and torches that lit up the fogged street 

the boy was too busy with the look to realize the girl that had come behind him and hit him in the back of the head with the swords dull pommel the boy let put a yelp before collapsing at your feet

your small victory lasted a small time and before you noticed the boy you had tied with the thorns and vines from the door, which continued to be locked 

your mum and lilith as far as you knew safe

began to stir and as his eyes opened another boy appeared at the end of the alley

his hair seemed to be part of the night sky, falling over his dark eyes. 

“mark!” the black haired boy cried, his hand at his scimitar pointed directed towards you his other hand had managed to slip a dagger out of god knows where and sliced mark’s binds

mark the name sent a shock through you and you took a closer look at the young boy whose eyes were now wide open no anger shown

 but instead amusement and the joyous spark you had once known

he looked so different 

the black haired boy still had a sword at your throat and you swallowed briefly 

“mark?” you gasped feeling the tip of the sword against your neck a small movement and it would nick your skin, blood would swell

‘Mark’ looked at you again and laughed, 

the black haired boy looked confused “let her go jeno” 

jeno was like ‘excuse me ? she knocked you unconscious no i'm not doing that’ he didn't say it but mark understood and laughed again this time it was more mischievous a feral grin adorned his features

“let her go, she’s coming with us” jeno and you were both like huh? has this boy gone mad?

probably letss be realll

“umm no im not” you snapped at the boy you once knew, you glared at jeno who had regrettably removed his sword away from your neck but had placed the dagger threateningly close to your back ashe forced you to move along

you didn’t get an answer from mark who still seemed very entertained by the whole situation

he had changed so much since you’d last seen him *sigh*

you three walked back towards the village and you hadn’t realized how the screams of pain and fear were no longer heard

more than a few guards littered the floors and you tried not to gasp as jeno forcefully continued to move you towards the sea its waters black 

the walk to the pirate boat seemed to last ages, the sun had begun to set in the sky casting dark purple and red shadows above the black water that didn’t reflect any light. It broke your heart to see the usually clear water be black, the animals that lived in the waters probably struggling to survive.

when you finally arrived, the panic began to settle in again. you didn’t know if your mum and lilith were safe, you didn’t know what would happen and the boy you knew two years ago had changed so much that you could no longer read what he was thinking 

the ship loomed in front of you, you hear the small buzz of chatter from the ship and laughter

why was there laughter in such a horrible place ??

“Come on” mark said, already walking getting onto the ship, not looking back at the mess they had left behind

You no longer felt the sharp prick of a dagger or sword at your back, but instead it had been replaced by a strong hand guiding you towards the ship

the contact startled you, and you straightened and continued to walk forward the ship only a few feet away, you still held onto the rock that you had hit mark with, your sword taken away by jeno

you forced your feet to stop moving, because one more step and you’d be on the pirate’s boat, and ducked, and made a weak attempt at attacking the black haired boy behind you hitting him with the small rock you had on the leg

you begin to move away from the boat. The victory lasted a solid second before jeno had his arms around you, pinning your hands behind your back. No longer smiling, or understanding in his dark eyes. you glared at him and then at mark who had finally turned around, a sort of sadness passed over his features before he spoke

“you can’t run away y/n” he said calmly. “remember in london? when you dream about running away, leaving this island and  exploring the world? away from your father?”

his words shocked you, but you didn’t want to leave your mum she had no one else 

“i can’t just leave mark !! my mum, she’s still there and i can’t just leave her with father” a look of recognition and understanding flitted through jeno’s face and reflected in mark

“i know, i know but if you stay here and go back” the boy shook his head, the dark of the night making his blonde hair a dull light in the fog, 

you knew, that in many ways he was right. if you did go back the villagers had seen you with the pirates, being taken by them as the village had burned down and you weren't scared. the worst scenario would be that if you did go back they would imprison you, ask you for information 

hurt mum, hurt lilith even is she was part of the royals

you felt the tears well up in your eyes, and refused to let them fall

“we aren’t all that bad” peeped jeno’s voice who had softened again, until you looked at him and his gaze hardened

you forced yourself a small smile, and placed your foot on the board of the boat 

“Let’s go swashbucklers” you said, 

after all, the stories you’d heard had come from your father, and all his stories were a lie.

a/n : i hope y’all enjoyed that. ik there wasn't much jeno lol but i’m planning on king this a series if you want? send me an ask, if you do! either way, 

peace out luvs,

stay safe