#buck's smile gonna swallow glass im out

[rcbertleckie]

Me and the guys were, uh, wondering what the score is.

[sku1l-b4e]

HII!! definitely need 2012 Tom with f!reader and it’s like fluff from the start cuddling, Watching a movie until a nasty scene comes up and the reader is just looking at him and smut! :3

If your comfortable!!😘

Sound fun 🤭

Movie Night...🫣

Category: fluff to smut <3 (+ fluff at the end) Warnings: dom!Tom, sub!reader, blow job, doggy style, rough sex, gentle sex, hair pulling, marking, swearing, badly translated German (Google), tell me if I forgot any.

It was a normal night for the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa as you watch a movie together. Tonight, Tom had chosen a series he knew you'd like, Shameless (the US version - I hate the UK version im sorry). His right arm was draped over your shoulders as you sit with your chest facing his side, your legs draped over his lap. He'd occasionally sneak in a soft kiss to your lips or cheek when you were too invested in the episode. "Love you." "Love you too."

On the coffee table, there were the boxes from your finished takeout, your glasses which held a mix of vodka and lemonade for you both now lay empty beside the boxes. Tom had wrapped a blanket around you so you wouldn't get cold in your skimpy pajama shorts and crop top.

A couple episodes in, a sex scene comes on between Fiona Gallagher and some guy and you giggle softly, Tom's attention already on you. You look towards him and smile, leaning up to capture his soft lips in a kiss, completely innocent. But Tom took it to another level, one you should've been expecting. His hand immediately grips your chin, deepening the kiss and tilting his head to the side to get better access to your mouth. He murmers something in German against your lips but it's too quiet to make out. His free hand moves to explore your body, pinching and twisting your nipples which elicits a whimper from you. He grins into the kiss, his tongue fighting with yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His hand gropes your tits, slipping beneath your crop top and sliding across your bare skin, his thumb toying with your left nipple before he pulls away from the kiss and removes his hands from you. "Gonna suck me off, baby?" He asks, giving you his puppy eyes that you never resist. You nod, a small smile on your face as you slide off the couch and kneel between his legs once he's pulled down his pajama bottoms, he pumps himself a couple times but gasps when you whack his hand away. "Let me do it." You murmur, taking his already hard dick into your hand, your pretty mouth falling open as the size difference.

You pump him a couple times, looking up at him as he grunts and groans. You keep your eyes on him as you move your head to kitten lick his tip. He subconsciously bucks his hips as if expecting your mouth to be wide open for him. You manage to move out of the way before he pokes your eye out but soon return to your kitten licks, staring from the base and working your way up. He lets out a soft gasp as your tongue glides over his slit and you giggle again, taking his tip into his mouth and letting your spit lubricate it.

"Sheiße, leibe... put that pretty mouth to good use, ja?" He groans, bucking his hips into your mouth. You hum against his cock, slowly taking him deeper before one of his hands grip your hair and push your head down fully on his dick, forcing you to deepthroat him. You gag slightly but deal with it, allowing him to change the pace of your sucking whilst you hollow out your cheeks and drag your tongue up the bottom of his cock, causing him to buck his hips again and let out a few more groans. He's practically face-fucking you now, his hands forcing your head to match whatever pace he wants until he finally lets out a long groan, pushing your head down all the way as he cums. You gag again, managing to pull yourself off him and swallow his cum.

You stick out your tongue to show him and he gives you a toothy smirk, grabbing your hands and pulling you up. He stands up, his body pressed against your as he leans over your shoulder, swiping everything off of the coffee table and grabbing you, manhandling you into a position. You gasp as your chest pushes against the wooden coffee table, your brain not even registering that Tom had broken the glasses from your previous drinks. You feel him pull down your pajama shorts then his hands leave you, a soft rustling coming from behind you. You know that rustling too well, he's putting on a condom.

As soon as he rolls the condom on, he's grabbing your wrists and holding them to your back, kicking off his own pajama bottoms fully before he forces your legs open. "Focus on the show, mein süße." He whispers into your ear, your eyes moving to the television, you soon become too invested into the storyline to even notice your boyfriend aligning himself to your already wet pussy. He suddenly thrusts into you, causing your body to push forward and a loud moan to leave you, he hisses through his teeth, leaning over your back as he wiggles his hips to get comfortable. "Gonna be a good girl f'me?" He asks, burying his face into your neck and nibbling on it. You let out a soft hum, nodding your head. "The best girl."

You feel him grin against your skin and he starts to move, his thrusts quickly picking up in pace and force. The table creaks beneath you, your mewls and whines bouncing off the walls of the living room whilst his balls slap against your ass, his cock pounding into you and letting the tip kiss your cervix. His thrusts grow in intensity, pushing the air of your lungs, his face still in your neck as his mouth sucks and bites down on your soft skin, leaving red and purple marks in the shape of his mouth and teeth.

"F-fuck... Tom, g'nna cu-um." You manage to say between moans as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach. He groans into your skin, his thrusts picking up the pace again as one of his hands move round your body to rub harsh circles up on your clit. You practically scream, your back arching and head turning towards the sky as you feel yourself tightening around him. He grunts, biting into your clothed shoulder as he keeps his current pace to let you ride out your high as he builds up his own.

After what like seems forever, his thrusts suddenly becomes more frenzied, more desperate as he mutters in German, probably praising you for being 'such a good girl for him'. You move your hips in time with his, strained moans leaving you as he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can, his cum shooting inside the condom. He pauses for a moment then starts to move again, this time more gentle, more loving. It's how he makes up for being so rough.

"So... so good, leibe..." His quiet voice echos in your mind, a smile coming onto your face as your bodies slowly rock back and forth. He eventually pulls out, peeling the condom off and tying it so nothing leaks out, he chucks it into the empty take out bag and kisses down your slightly exposed back down to your ass where he gives you a playful bite. You yelp and he chuckles, gently tapping your right ass cheek before standing to his full height. "Gonna go get you wipes..."

You nod and start to stand up, your back cracking as you watch him leave. He comes back after a couple minutes, carrying a packet of pH balanced wipes and a small hand towel. He sits you down and wipes you down with a wipe, drying you with the towel. "I love you, y/n... So beautiful." He whispers the last part to himself, his attention now fully on your face that still holds the post-orgasm glow.

Honestly had no idea how to end this???

[icarus-star]

k. | chris kenton 💋

anon's request: i'm out here on the floor begging you to do any rory charchter you'd like i love em all with reader and that stupid little tik tok thing where it's like puts on lipstick and then your lover smears it and there's kisses all over them yk what im talking abt? something like that that maybe leads to smut

a/n: this trend makes me ball my eyes out whenever i see it. (tumblr wasn't letting me respond to the actual ask ☹️)

it was your idea. after a little while of seeing a bunch of videos of people and their partners participate in the trend you wanted to do it with chris.

and so, the two of you were in your bedroom, you were applying the lipstick you always wore, and chris was sitting on the edge of your bed.

"uh, how do we get the lipstick stains.. on my face?" chris questioned, clearly not having thought it through.

"i have to kiss you, idiot." "oh, right."

you smiled, sitting next to chris. you took his cheek in your hand, beginning to absolutely smother his face with kisses. he giggled, turning his head to get a nice big kiss right on his own lips. you peppered plenty of little prints of your lips onto his skin, the shade complimenting him quite well.

you started up the video on your phone, the both of you trying hard to contain your giggles. you smudged your lipstick, chris wiping it off for you, and then the camera panned to him with the lipstick marks all over his face. completing the silly trend.

once you had it posted, you decided to properly put on your lipstick. but before you could, "can i do it for you?" chris asked, a goofy little smile on his face.

you smiled and nodded, handing him the lipstick. he had his face right in front of yours, focused on getting your lips perfect (even though it was quite a simple task).

he pulled away, putting the cap back on you lipstick and placing it on your desk. "are you gonna clean your face?" you asked, as chris still had the little kiss marks all over his face.

he shook his head. "no, i think i like em." he joked, snaking an arm around your waist. he rested his chin on your shoulder, a small smile never leaving his face.

"what?" "nothing, you're just pretty."

a moment of silence went by, the two of you moving closer to reconnect your lips. he hummed softly, so giddy to just be with you like this.

slowly, the kiss grew into more. your hands exploring one another's bodies like they had many times before. he was gentle, as if you were a delicate piece of glass.

you moved your lips down, trailing little kisses along his neck. you pulled away, allowing him to take his shirt off. and again, your lips were on him. kissing his nipples all the way down to his belly.

he let out a soft moan as you got to the waistband of his pants. "p- please.." he uttered from his soft lips.

of course, you complied. pulling down his sweatpants and boxers for his hard cock to spring free. he had already begun to drip with clear sticky precum.

you smiled, planting a soft kiss right on the head of his cock. he shuddered, his hands gripping the blanket on your bed.

you kissed down the shaft of his throbbing dick, leaving marks from your lipstick all over. he let out soft and quiet whimpers, loving how much attention you were giving him. he could never get tired of the feeling of your lips.

you began to slowly jerk him off, using the precum as lube. you also continued kissing his dick, causing it to twitch. if it could beg for more, it would.

chris whined lightly, bucking his hips up. thrusting his dick into your fist. "mmn, please lemme cum?~" he moaned, barely able to look at you as you kissed and licked the tip.

"uh huh." you nodded, opening your mouth for his load. he looked down at you, completely losing himself. he came. filling your mouth with the hot liquid, letting out one long and loud moan as he threw his head back.

you swallowed back his cum, planting one last kiss on his now soft cock as you rose back up and sat next to him. your hands now around his waist, and your chin now on his shoulder.

"i love you." you cooed into his ear.

"i love you too." he mumbled back.

[parkerluvsu]

ur recent hange fic…. lord that was so hot🥵🥵🥵

a/n: this has been a real ordeal, but ive finally finished part 2 of my amab! hange fic! i hope everyone enjoys :)

cw/tw: amab! hange x gn! reader, kind of switch! hange, talking about jerking off, me making absolutely no effort at the end i apologize (T_T)

how did they get here..? hange tried to recollect their thoughts from the last hour at your apartment. getting there, seeing you in such a cute outfit that had their cock throbbing in their sweats, you turning on a movie while laying suspiciously close to their lap, hange was starting to put 2 and 2 together, which is not surprising, considering what you had them doing now. your hands gripping hange’s hair brought them back to earth, encouraging hange to continue what they were doing. and what were they doing? currently hanges head was in-between your thighs, their knees planted firmly on the ground as they allowed themselves to be basically suffocated by your thighs. hange couldn't believe what was happening, their dreams were finally coming true, you tasted better than they could have ever imagined, and they had imagined it more than a few times. they couldn't stop themselves from looking up, watching with awe as your eyes rolled back because of them, all because of them. hange swore it was a dream, the way your plush thighs trapped them in, like they would ever want to leave your warm embrace. hange could tell you were getting close, with the way you twitched against their tongue, and the way that your moans crescendo with the pressure of your hands in their head. hange encouraged you, keeping their mouth on you even when your hips bucked up in the air as you came with a moan of hange’s name. it was perfect, you were perfect, hange thought to themselves as they finally let go of your thighs and removed their head from in between them. meeting your gaze, hange smiled, savoring the look of pleasure on your face for another time when you weren't around. "so, how did i do?" hange asked you, readjusting their glasses on their flushed face. "it was.. it was really good hange" you said, noticing the painful looking bulge in hange’s pants. "want me to help with that?" you asked, gesturing towards the crotch of hange’s sweats. hange nodded quickly, "yes please, please" you reached out your hands to pull the material off their hips, admiring the sharp line of muscle that lead to hange’s dick. they couldn't help but shiver at the warm feeling of your warm lips pressing against their abdomen, down to their dick, the tip flushed and leaking. "want me to touch it hange?" you said, ghosting your fingers over the length of their cock. hange cupped your face in their hands desperately, "please- please fuck i need you to touch me" they said, trying to buck their hips up into your touch. you giggled lightly, obliging their wishes as you finally grabbed their throbbing length in your fist, using their precum as lube to move your hand up and down. hange tried stop the moans that escaped them, but they couldn't, the sounds of their arousal making your thighs press together. looking up, you noticed how hange’s fingernails dug into their thigh, the subtle veins that were always apparent in their hands now becoming more visible. you reached up and grabbed their hand, intertwining your fingers with theirs as you swallowed their cock further down your throat, using your free hand to squeeze the base of their dick. hange couldn't stop the way that their hips fucked into your mouth, chasing the warm, wet feeling that your mouth provided them. "im- fuck m' gonna cum" hange groaned out, tipping their head back as you hummed around them. the vibrations were the final straw for hange, as they trembled at the feeling of finally being able to cum, for you. you waited for their hips to stop moving before you pulled your mouth off of them, smiling up at them as you wiped your mouth. you rose to your feet, immediately pressing your lips to hange’s lips. hange couldn't help the way that their knees buckled when they tasted themselves on your lips. you looped your arms around their neck, wanting to have them even closer to you than they already were. hange’s hands were gripping your hips tightly, letting you reach down and touch them again, resulting in them moaning in your mouth. you guided hange to sit down on the couch, gently seating yourself on their lap, never removing your lips from theirs. kissing hange was euphoric, all the times you had imagined the pinkness of them against your own, could never compare to the real thing. hange was losing their mind, and they werent even inside of you yet. even a simple brush of your skin against theirs was enough to make their toes curl, hips shakily bucking against you, pre-cum spilling down their slit. you meet hange’s gaze, the room silent except for their soft pants, you broke the silence first, “you sure this is okay?” you asked. hange nodded, “just.. never thought this would happen” they said sheepishly, inhaling sharply when you brushed your finger over their tip. you nod, pressing another kiss against their lips when you slide your hand down their cock to grab the base. hange sighs against your lips when they feel the warmth of your hole, their fingers gripping onto your hips.  “ready?” you ask, tucking their hair out of their face. hange nodded, sucking in a breath and nestling their face into your neck. you lowered yourself down onto their throbbing sex, gasping when the thick head of their cock breached your walls. "hah- fuck" hange sighs, tipping their head back and gripping your hips. you smiled, lowering yourself further onto their cock. they couldn't help the desperate bucking of their hips, chasing after the tight warmth that you were providing them. you hummed into their neck, starting to move your hips faster, letting hange wrap their arms around you. the movie playing in the background was forgotten as the sound of hange’s hips slapping against yours echoed in the room. "mmh shit- you feel, so so good" hange’s voice tilted up at the end of their sentence, their cheeks reddening at the sounds escaping them. "you sound so pretty hange, always wanted to hear you like this" you whispered in their ear, kissing their soft lips, silencing the moans that will no doubt earn a noise complaint from your neighbor. hange’s hair sticks to their forehead as they bite their lip to try to suppress the needy moans they wanted oh so badly to release. of course you thought it was cute but you couldn't help yourself from teasing them just a little bit, it's only fair right? "feels good, huh hange?" you said, only being answered with a strangled moan from them. "is this what you were thinking about doing when you were looking up my skirt today?" you purred, watching with delight as hange’s eyes widened with horror at the thought that you knew what you were doing. "so? did you jerk off that pretty dick of yours to the thought of me?" you whispered in hange’s ear, pulling back to see the furious blush spreading over hange’s face. "oh- oh god" they moan, "yes, fuck- i did, r-right before i came over-" you couldn't help the heat that flooding through your body at the thought that hange had done something so sinful just before they had come over and acted all innocent. "so cute, hange, you know that? you're so cute" you sighed, kissing them again, guiding their hands to hold yours as hange’s hips started to stutter. you could feel their cock start to twitch inside of your walls, the way their were snugly pressed up against you made you feel the small sensation even more. "gonna cum hange? you can cum inside it's okay" you murmured against their lips, feeling them nod against your chest with fervor while you continued to rock your hips against them. hange couldn't help but feel ashamed at how weak you were making them, how submissive they felt as they looked up at you. not that they minded of course, but hange wanted to provide you the same, no, more pleasure than you were giving them. so, even surprising themselves, hange tilted forward on the couch, using their arms to support your back as they thrusted into you, still keeping their face in your chest. caught by surprise, you had no choice but to wrap your arms around their neck, the new angle allowing you to feel every inch of hange’s cock, making you shine out and grip onto their hair. hange felt so proud, so proud of the fact that they were making you feel so good, they were pulling a wonderful symphony of moans to leave your mouth, and that they finally were able to feel what it was like to be inside you. "h-hange, wait- fuck im gonna cum" you cry, swearing that you could feel hange’s cock throbbing inside of you at your words. "w-wanna cum together- please-" hange whined, forgetting all about your unfortunate neighbors. resting their head back on your chest, hange tightened their hold around you again, just in time for your walls to start tightening around them as well. hange’s eyes rolled back into their head, a sight that you would be saving into your memory banks for years to come. they looked like an angel, their brown locks spilling out from their hair tie, cheeks flushed and mouth parted for those beautiful moans you loved so much to pass through. and hange could say the same about you, you were perfect, divine in this moment, seeing the pleasure on your face was made better by the fact that they knew they had caused that pleasure that was currently rushing through your body. the room was almost silent now. the movie was playing softly, accompanied by the soft pants escaping both of you. hange stayed quiet, afraid to say something and ruin the moment. climbing off of their lap, you rested yourself on their shoulder, kissing their neck softly, while your hand combed through their hair. "next time, just tell me when you're horny so i don't have to go through this whole ordeal again okay hange?" you giggled. hange nodded their head and sighed content with the fact that they wouldn't have to secretly admire you from afar anymore.

[silverdelirium]

STICKY WASHING MACHINE | D.M

summary: draco fucks scorpius’ nanny on the laundry room

warnings: breeding kink, rough sex.

———

“so do you accept?” asked draco to the girl who only stared at him with mouth slightly agape. “i-i mean i guess” she replied, not meeting his eyes.

“see you on monday then” nodded draco and turned on his heel, walking away.

y/n really didn’t know how they ended up on the topic of her being draco malfoy’s son’s nanny. it really wasn’t much work, a three year old baby just needed attention, food and sleep. but still, me out of all people? she thought, why did i even agree?

but here she was, beaming at the sight of scorpius’ new drawing which consisted on draco’s exaggerated tall figure, y/n and scorp. she sometimes felt bad that astoria was never in the picture, in every sense. she had left draco after scorpius turned 3 months old and never came back, draco explained this when they first reencountered, apparently it never really affected him. considering it was an arranged marriage.

“wow baby this is so good, i bet you’re gonna be an artist some day!” you exclaimed at him. he giggled and turned pink but a loud yawn cut his smile off. “i think it’s time for your nap, come on” she said, standing up and dusting off her skirt, scorpius holding up his arms.

y/n settled scorpius on bed and he was asleep in seconds, she chuckled and just snuggled the blanket closer to him. her eye caught a peek of scorpius’ laundry basket. sure, she was just a nanny that was supposed to take care of the child and that was it, the clothes were the elf’s work. but scorpius was terrified of them so draco took care of his clothes, y/n decided to just take his clothes to the laundry room and throw them inside the washing machine.

as y/n made her way to the laundry room, draco came through the fireplace that was at the whole other wing of the manor, making y/n unconscious of his presence.

draco gave a big sigh and immediately entered the kitchen for a glass of wine, opening up the cabinet that had one of the bottles opened already, courtesy of draco’s previous stress.

he knew scorpius must be asleep, taking notice of the silence that resonated through the manor’s atmosphere. in his midst of thinking, a few drops spilled from the rim his cup when he inclined it too harshly, making them spill on his white shirt. draco gave a groan at this and threw his head back.

narcissa always told draco that it was better to immediately wash clothing items if he ever spilled something on them. so he grumpily made his way to the laundry room.

as he got closer he could hear shuffling of clothes and a low humming, eventually stopping at the doorway to catch sight of y/n bent over, placing small clothing items into the washing machine. he went wide eyed at the peak he caught of her lace pink panties, cunt perfectly outlined.

draco was frustrated, sexually more than ever. he always found y/n hot, even in hogwarts, he remembers having a huge crush on her during fourth and fifth year, but they never really talked except for the polite hello’s and brief conversation when they were partnered in class.

right now, all the past emotions were coming back. and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her like he never did to a woman before. for hours and hours until she turned into nothing but a blabbering mess.

y/n eventually straightened up and went to pick more clothes, but she was met with a paralized draco on the doorframe.

“oh- hello draco, i didn’t know you were back” she saluted politely, going back to scorpius small basket that was placed on top of the dryer.

draco was snapped out of his trance at her voice, he swallowed hard before responding, “evening, just came to- uh put this in the washing machine” he gestured to his shirt, making her look at his chest but eventually trailing down to his very apparent bulge.

he saw how her eyes went wide but she said nothing and just gulped and nodded, gaze not meeting his.

the laundry room really wasn’t that big, making it hard for draco to pass y/n to go to the washing machine that was placed next to the dryer. but he still came in contact with her. his clothed cock pressing perfectly into her ass, a small gasp escaping her while draco grunted at the friction.

they both stilled.

y/n was the first to turn around, groin now pressing into her front, he was breathing heavily. and like magnets they connected together, tongues exploring each other’s mouth. draco’s hands rubbing her ass, down until the back of her thighs were in his large hands. he tapped them lightly, signaling her to jump, which she obliged instantly and jumped, draco hoisting her onto the washing machine.

he disconnected their lips to travel down to her neck, a small whine escaping her when he found her sweet spot. draco absolutely devouring the skin and littering it with purple hickeys. he eventually pulled away to take a good look at his little piece of art.

y/n brought him back into a heated kiss while unbuttoning his shirt, his own hands finding way to the hem of hers. once he shrugged off his shirt he helped her pull hers off, throwing it onto the floor. he pulled away from the kiss once again to look at her soft mounds that sat perfectly in a bra, he groaned at the sight as his cock twitched on his trousers.

“can i take this off sweet thing?” he asked, tone low as he hooked a finger on the bra strap.

y/n eagerly nodded, draco wasting no time and unclasping the bra in a quick motion, disregarding it to the side, mouth immediately attaching to her nipple while his hand toyed with the other. she gave a moan at this breathing heavily and leaning back on her palms, panties soaked and pussy throbbing.

draco kissed his way down to her stomach, dragging her skirt down until it hit the floor. he stepped back and admired with pure mesmerization at y/n’s form, tits with perked up nipples, dampened panties and breathing hard. “look at my pretty princess” he said, unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants low enough so his dick popped out.

she went wide eyed for the second time that evening at his size. draco was much bigger than anyone she had ever been with and he was just a very big person in general, she wasn’t sure she could take him all.

draco stroked his cock up and down slowly, tip red and leaking with pre-cum. he got closer to her and moved her panties to the side, eyes glinting when he saw her bare cunt, dripping.

“so wet baby” he said as he passed two fingers over her folds, y/n shuddering while he brought them up to his mouth and hummed at the taste, watching her face heat up.

“taste so good too” he growled, inching his face closer to her and leaning their foreheads together while his fingers plummeted themselves slowly into her, a loud moan escaping her lips.

he started moving them at a slow pace, almost torturous. watching intently as she released small whimpers and moans, his cock twitching every now and then.

he started scissoring his fingers inside of her, going faster. “ah! yes draco right there” she moaned out when he curled his fingers, touching that spongy spot inside her. “yeah? think you can take my cock now?” he questioned.

“yes” she replied quickly, pussy clenching at the thought of having him inside her, finally.

he seemed to notice this and chuckled, removing his fingers and dragging them to his cock once again, coating it with her juices. he guided it to her entrance and drenched the tip with her arousal, making y/n buck her hips up and whine.

“sh sh sh, now be patient little girl” he warned, fingers lightly tapping her clit, making her jolt and quickly shut up as she waited in anticipation.

draco entered y/n slowly with a groan, a strangled moan leaving her throat. he let her adjust to his size for a few moments before starting out on a decently fast pace, making her throw your head back and release several moans the faster he went, breasts bouncing everywhere, much to draco’s delight.

he settled for a brutal pace that had the washing machine shaking, watching her eyes go crisscross when he reaches to rub her clit.

“fuck baby look at this pretty pussy squeezing me, so fucking tight” he groaned, looking down at her juices dripping out, thighs glistening. “you have no idea how many times i’ve dreamt about this” he said, voice strained. she hummed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down to another steamy kiss, he greedily ate every moan she made, her legs starting to tremble.

“fuck baby im close” he said when she pulled away for breath. “me too!” she replied, his thumb assaulting her clit harsher.

“yeah? gonna cum all over me? and then let me put my fucking cum inside you until your fucking pregnant?” he teased, moving his hands to grip her ass, y/n gave a loud moan in response and rapidly nodded, orgasm right at its peak. “fuckfuckfuck yes draco!” she screamed as she came, legs completely shaking and letting that coil snap while he fucked her faster, riding out her high while chasing his.

“shit, gonna cum so hard inside you and give you my kids princess” he groaned, his thrust sloppy when his orgasm hit him, releasing a loud moan as he came.

after they both calmed down from their highs he sighed in pleasure and looked down to her puffy cunt, he pulled out slowly and watched as her pussy spurted out both cums. he collected some on his fingers and held them up to y/n.

she opened her mouth and kept eye contact as she sucked on them, humming at the taste like he had done previously, making his once soft cock perk up immediately. she was gonna be the death of him.

she giggled at his reaction and got off the, now sticky washing machine due to their arousal on it, leaning her top half over it and arching her back. draco’s mouth agape at the view.

“round 2?” she taunted.

but right as draco was about to fuck her into tomorrow, a small paddle of feet could be heard in the distance with a faint “daddy? y/n?”.

———

part two

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @helleli @metaraxia @daddybutmakeitagirl @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety

[moxfirefly]

37.  "See what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again."

47.  "I know we're just friends but you're sitting on my lap and I'm so sorry if I get hard."

I'm an idiot and forgot to put the full prompt so here! For donnie with a gn reader :3

Sjakdkfwlend of this is gonna be FUN!

Rated Steamy?

Torturing Donatello should be a professional hobby and if it was you were the president and CEO of it.

Honestly at this point it was more so about seeing how quickly you could get him to squirm. It would all be easier if he just confessed to the piece of information you had found out about a few months back.

A little birdie turtle had snitched to you that Donnie was basically head over heals for you. Raph could be quite the gossip if you caught him in the right mood. Truth be told it was kinda obvious but it never hurt to make sure.

And thus your torture games had taken some fun twisty turns. Currently speaking of said torture you had waltzed into his lab and found the nerd playing some computer game. A nice change of pace for his usual workaholic tendencies. You were intrigued and asked him to let you play a round, naturally he’d said yes.

So you scooted into the space between him and the desk and sat on his lap. Donnie went rigid, immediately into ‘where the fuck do I put my hands’ mode. Grabbing the controller you set out to play the game, every so often re-accommodating in your ‘seat’.

This was hell and yet it was heaven for him.

Ok maybe somewhere in the middle of Purgatory because yes, you were sitting on his lap and wow you were just so pretty and warm and where the fuck does he put his hands??

“Anyway you can illegally send me this game? It’s a lot of fun” You smiled, fingers gliding over the controls. All Donnie could do was make a choking sound that sort of sounded like a ‘yeah yeah’. During an unexpected moment there was a jump scare in the game, startling you enough to bounce just so on his lap.

It was the first moment in his twenty plus years on this earth that he started praying.

Distractions, he needed distractions.

“If you head down the corridor there’s a secret level” He sounded somewhat strained, which only served to make you smirk to yourself.

Each jump scare, each second you adjusted in your seat, it was a second closer to Donnie feeling like he was going to combust. The embarrassment alone not to mention that you would probably think him to be a pervert.

Also why did you have to smell so good? That shampoo really did wonders. Trying to make the best of this odd but nice situation, he took the moment to admire bits of you he couldn’t really get to do so. The back of your neck, the width of your shoulders, that adorable birthmark. The little huff and puffs of frustration when you lost. Something so minuscule as how pretty your ears were.

Donnie often thought about kissing little odd sections of your body. Like the middle of your back, the inside of your arm.

Your thighs, all of your thighs.

Your rear.

He swallowed, face heating up. Your brows shot up.

Donnie blabbed out before you could maybe just ignore it. “I know we’re just friends but you’re sitting on my lap and I’m so sorry if I get hard” He slapped a hand over his face, lifting his glasses up along the process.

Then you had the actual audacity to start laughing which only made you move more on his lap. He reached out and gripped your waist firmly. “Oh my god, this is too much!” You leaned back, still in a fit of laughter and rested against his plastron, from your side view you could see him honest to god pouting.

“Hey it’s a natural biological response, right? I’m not upset by it” If anything you mentally were sweating, the size of it was...

Blinking out those thoughts you tapped his chin with the controller. Donnie turned enough to be able to look at you, brow ridges still knitted in the middle with frustration. “I’m sure I’d be going through something similar if I had you on my lap” You smirked triumphantly when he raised his brows.

“Y/n im not exactly thrilled to be telling you that I’m... that I’m into you while I have a freaking boner” He closed his eyes, groaning that this his actual life right now.

“Don boy, I’ve been subtle about it for a while now, had to break the big guns for this” You shrugged, trying not to laugh at his expression of despair.

Big guns, eh?

Donnie through caution out the window for this, a means to at least get the upper hand for all this time of torture you caused him. Placing a hand on your cheek he pulled you in and kissed you. Your eyes went wide, surely not expecting him to have it in him to do this.

So you kissed him back, even at the slightly odd angle, you kissed him and tried to hold back the excitement of it all. Donnie’s lips felt absolutely perfect against your own, and for his lack of experience in the department he seemed to be doing a really good job at this whole kissing business. Those large hands of his fanned out across your stomach, making your skin feel nice and prickly with desire. Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers playing with the tails of his mask. When you felt his tongue against your own, you were sure your brain exited the premises. A soft kiss soon turned into a hungrier one. The hard ridge of his length against your rear, his hands gripping the skin of your stomach and his tongue all served to turn you on.

Donnie pulled away with a wet pop, lips parted and a little breathless. Now it was your turn to blush and be at a loss for words. He bucked his hips just a tad, a not so attractive whine escaping your mouth.

Slowly he pushed back onto your feet and got up. The towering terrapin looked down at you.

“See what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again” He spoke with a harsh little swallow. You stood there, speechless.

Donnie turned feeling his pride swell at getting the upper hand this time.

Even he left with a funny walk and made a be line to the bathroom.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

death wish* matt murdock x reader

+++++++++ Request from @juniebugg : similar to Matt and Elektra in the gym ft Matt's choking kink

thank you again for the request and sorry it took so long. i had no idea how i was gonna write this and then it just hit me and i actually really like the way it came out so i hope you enjoy!

* - there is so little plot to this, i got so carried away omg. we definitely highlighted the choking kink, and maybe a praise kink, and mayhaps use a few pet names (good girl and baby girl) 😅

Song: disappear (remember when) by issues

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg  +++++++++

"matt what are we doing here?"

i asked, watching him unlock the door. it made me that much more curious that he even had a key to whatever the hell this was.

"i want to show you where i go after work everyday. you said you wanted to know."

i looked around as he stayed by the door, holding his cane to his chest like he usually did.

"this is it, isnt it? where your dad trained?"

i asked, touching the punching bag hanging from the ceiling with the lightest touch. i looked to him and he nodded, walking to me slowly.

"i have an arrangement worked out with the owner and i come as i please. after hours of course."

i stared at him for a moment and a silence hung over the entire room.

"he's part of you ya know."

he raised a brow as i moved to hug the bag close to me, using it as a resting post.

"well he was my father."

i sighed out a short laugh.

"no matt, i mean daredevil."

he drew his brows.

"im not daredevil."

i rolled my eyes, letting the bag go and stepping to him slowly.

"I'm not an idiot matt, i know you sneak out in the middle of the night when you think I'm fast asleep. i don't know exactly what's in that trunk under the stairs but its kind of hard to miss the smell of blood. and even harder to miss the bruises on your face and body you try so hard to hide."

i shook my head, reaching up to touch his face gently and he flinched.

"you cant hide who you are from me Mr. Murdock. i see right through you."

he swallowed hard, tilting his head down as if he were looking at me through his red glasses.

"You always have."

"I think that's why I didn't ask you about it. I wanted you to come to me first. Tell me on your own terms."

He smiled and I smiled back before he leaned down and kissed me gently.

"And you're not mad I'm the devil of hell's kitchen?"

I snorted.

"Of course not. I'm a little concerned maybe but not mad."

"Concerned?"

I looked to the side and picked my words carefully.

"I've heard the stories and I see you limping sometimes. It's not a secret whoever it is you are fighting can throw you around."

He smirked at me.

"Not that I can't handle it. In fact i do a good amount of my own throwing around."

I smiled, amused.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

he challenged. I shook my head, placing my hand on his chest.

"Wanna show me just how much you can do?"

I challenged back and he smirked.

"is this a test? this feels like a test."

i shrugged, tracing my fingers lightly down his chest.

"i dont know, why dont we step into the ring and find out."

"lead the way."

he said and i did as told. i climbed onto the platform and he followed shortly after, leaving his cane by the door.

"so, matt, how much can you really see?"

i tested, squaring up with him, hands in a defensive position.

"enough."

he said and i raised a brow, making an impressed face.

"so if i-?"

i said before throwing a punch, him dodging it with ease and retaliating by pushing me. i huffed before trying again and him repeating the motion. we circled each other for a few moments before he decided to throw one at me, me stepping to the side and both of us laughing.

"something tells me this might go on for a while."

he said a little snarky and i snorted.

"only one way to find out."

i said before throwing another punch. in a second he grabbed my wrist and threw me to the ground. i groaned in pain, looking up at him as he offered his hand to help me back up.

"guess we found out."

he said and i smirked up at him.

"did we?"

i asked, grabbing his hand and yanking him towards me, pushing my foot into his hip and flipping him up over me and onto his back opposite me. i rolled over quickly and got into a new fighting pose, one knee bent and still on the ground and the other leg up with my foot on the ground like someone who is proposing. i had my hands up in a defensive position again. he just groaned, tilting his head back towards me.

"so its gonna be like that."

he stated before rolling over and doing a push up to get to his knees.

"i suppose it is."

i said slyly, dodging his punch and standing quickly. he was just as quick to match me though, grabbing me and flipping us both back onto the ground. he was only on top of me for a few seconds before i flipped him onto his back and straddled him, holding his hands against the mat above his head.

"guess i win."

i said proudly, looking over his face. he clenched his fists twice before he pushed upward and slammed his lips into mine. it took me off guard at first, making me let go of his wrists to kiss him back. he slowly sat us up, not breaking the kiss and i could feel his hands roaming up my back. i hummed against him until we were completely upright and he started kissing across my jaw and down my neck.

"you win."

he whispered against my skin before sucking at my collar bone, holding me against him with one hand and the other traveling up my torso slowly.

"matt."

i moaned as he gripped my breast over my shirt, biting my neck as he did so. i held onto him for dear life as i pressed my hips down against his, tangling my one hand into his hair.

"i need you."

he said, leaning back and pulling my shirt over my head. when it was gone i moved to him to do the same and when it was tossed to the side i pushed him back down onto his back. i kissed down his chest and torso slowly.

"id say this is a pretty good victory."

i said, undoing his pants and he laughed, helping me get them down his thighs.

"one we can share in."

he said with a smirk, tracing his fingers against my ankles as i stood over him and got rid of my own bottoms.

"god i want you so bad."

i said, dropping back down on top of him, kissing him deeply as i ground against him. he was already hard and part of me was proud again for not only pinning him before hand but also getting him worked up that fast.

"then have me."

he whispered against my lips and i sat back up. first i trailed my fingers slowly down his torso, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing got heavier. then as i got further down i heard his breath hitch in his throat, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"trophy?"

i asked and he nodded quickly, pushing his hips up against my hand. i smirked before stroking him lightly, watching as his mouth opened a little.

"please."

he gasped, bucking his hips up again as i moved my hand up and down his member.

"i need words matt."

"i need-"

he groaned, squeezing his eyes tight as i continued to tease him slowly.

"i need more."

he pleaded. i let him go and moved to hover over him. his grip loosened a little bit.

"like this?"

i asked before running his tip through my folds, covering it in my slick and sinking down onto him. i dropped all the way down onto him until our hips were pressed against each other and he let out a shaky breath.

"oh my god."

he said, moving his one hand to my stomach. i looked down at him intently as i started moving against him. as i sat up and sank back down onto him his hand got further and further up my body, sending shivers down my spine as he traced gently up the valley between my breasts.

"matt."

i moaned, his hand making its way around my throat and holding firmly.

"do you trust me?"

he asked and i nodded against him.

"god yes."

i confessed, him pulling me down and flipping us over. his one hand was still on my throat, the other coming to the mat to hold him up.

"how does it feel to have your life in my hands?"

he asked harshly as he jutted into me and i let out a short breath, my mouth hanging open.

"answer me."

he demanded, slamming into me again and i moaned.

"fuck, it feels great."

i whined, him doing it again and again until he had a good rhythm, pounding into me.

"tighter."

i said, holding his wrist with a death grip, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"how do we ask?"

he said and i pushed my hips up against him.

"please!"

i screamed as he pushed into me harshly.

"good girl."

he praised, squeezing tighter and my brain went fuzzy.

"matt."

i said drunkenly, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. then he let go of my throat and i made a disappointed face. but my expression changed as his fingers found their way to my clit. i moaned loudly as he circled it with his forefinger. i pressed my nails into his bicep as he kept his pace, pushing into me hard and fast.

"you gonna cum when i say?"

he asked and i made a squeak noise in my throat.

"was that a yes?"

he asked and i nodded quickly.

"yes, oh god yes!"

i cried, trying to hold out.

"please matt."

i pleaded.

"almost there."

he grunted, hanging his head beside mine. i could feel his unsteady breaths against my collar bone and it sent a shiver down my spine again.

"cum for me baby girl."

he said and i could feel him twitch in me. then i pushed up against his hand and screamed as i came around him. he groaned against me as he came in me, pushing into me a few more times before pausing and trying to catch his breath.

"y/n."

he said softly between breaths.

"matt."

i sighed out, rolling my head back and forth, my vision getting clearer. he just hovered over me for a few seconds before pulling out slowly and i gasped at the sensation, feeling his cum dripping out of me and onto the mat below us. he dropped to his back beside me and sighed heavily.

"how have we never done that before?"

i said breathlessly before we both laughed.

"ive never gotten you into the ring before."

he said matter-of-factly and i turned my head to look at him.

"if you always fuck like this i might have to make more of an effort to get into the ring with you."

he smiled at that but only for a second.

"ya know i definitely didn't think tonight would go like this."

i snorted.

"and i did?"

he let out a short laugh.

"no i guess i just meant, well, we've only been dating for a little bit."

i rolled onto my side and touched his face gently.

"does that stand against how long we've been friends before hand?"

he half shrugged, rolling onto his side to face me, tracing his fingers up my arm gently.

"i have loved you for a while."

he said and i smiled, kissing his hand as it made its way up my shoulder and to my cheek.

"the feeling is mutual."

he smiled back at me before leaning forward and kissing me gently.

"god i cant believe foggy was right."

he lamented and my face fell to that of confusion.

"what do you mean?"

i said i little amused.

"he bet that id say i love you first."

i made an unbelieving laugh-like sound before hitting his chest and sitting upright.

"and im guessing you bet that id say it?"

i said, faking hurt and he laughed, sitting up too.

"i honestly didnt have a doubt in my mind."

i shook my head, reaching for his pants.

"rude."

i stated bluntly, tossing them at him and  he laughed again.

"youre right, and i was wrong. but now that its out i have no intention of stopping my oh so serious confession."

i stood to pull my pants back on, amused.

"well, save it for the priest then lover boy."

[inactive-luv]

Sub Spencer getting punished by reader using a fleshlight to edge him, bonus points if shes whispering what a bad boy he's been!

sub spencer kick is going through the roof rn, im not sure how to write degradation as good as others.... so readers gonna be a soft dom 

i didnt even preview this so if it sucks i apologize

...

Desperate: words

cw: edging, fleshlight usage, dom/sub, soft degradation, oral sex (f), mommy kink

...

"Spencer do you want a glass of wine?” She called from the kitchen and he turned his head but didn’t answer. Her own head turned to the side waiting for an answer but he just turned back to the television instead.

Earlier today, at the office, he acted the same way. Aloof to her and bratty to the rest of his coworkers. Wondering what was wrong she asked him wholeheartedly and he just pushed her off, so she didn’t pry anymore. 

She put it aside and walked over to the couch to sit next to him watching tv, trying to piece together what she had missed in the kitchen. “What happened?” She asked and without turning his head he answered,

“I wasn’t paying attention, but I think they got in an argument and he drove away.”

“Why did they get in an argument?”

“Maybe she kept talking during a movie.”

Her eyebrows rose while she turned her head to him, his face still glued to the screen. “Hah,” She scoffed, getting up from her seat and turning to their bedroom.

She was in there a while, looking for their things before she came out with a smug look on her face. He got up from the couch before her hand met his chest and pushed him back in his seat.

“What-” She cut him off with her tongue, already wrapped around his in her mouth before she pulled away to straddle his hips. He leaned towards her face, eager for another kiss, but she pulled back and brought her hand up to his eye line.

“Do you know what this is?” She asked rhetorically, holding a fleshlight close to his face. His eyes blew out of his head and he gulped without answering. Her unoccupied hand went to his hair.

“You were such a bad boy tonight Spencer, you want to tell me why that is?” She asked him while pulling on his tangled hair, “Hmph! M’sorry” He tried to turn his head but she turned it toward her for him.

“Who are you talking to Spencer?”

He looked up at her with his gorgeous brown eyes, almost blown out of his head at the sound of her voice before his voice registered itself in a low whisper, “Y-you, M-mommy.”

She smiled as she positioned herself next to him, letting go of his hair. She gave him a look pointing at his pants and he was quick to pull them down enough for his hard cock to spring upward. “What’s got you so excited Spencer? Do you want to be punished?”

She whispered her words carefully while squirting a drop of lube in the silicone. She gently slid it down his cock, his voice quivering as she jerked him fast and hard.

Her palm slid flat against his head before her fingers curled to tug at his hair. “Fuck!” He swore in her ear, earning a small slap to his cock in front of her. “Watch your language Spencer.” She cooed against his neck, 

“Mommy,” was all he could whimper out before she slid the fleshlight back down his shaft and he winced at the feeling of the silicone against his sensitive cock.

She pulled his hair again, tight enough so his face positioned itself in front of hers and she could plant a sloppy kiss against his red lips. He moaned at the interaction and deepened the kiss as she jerked him faster.

“Hmph!” He whimpered under her lips before she pulled back, “Are you getting close?” She whispered and he was quick to answer, “Yes Mommy, can I cum? Please? Please?” He groaned out quickly as his hips jerked and she laughed.

She laughed at the desperation he exuded as she slowed down her movements. “Bad boys don’t cum Spencer you know that.” She told him as she nibbled on his ear, delicate not to hurt him except for the odd bite here and there.

He loved the pain though. The pain of her edging him, the sensitivity of his aching red cock and her fingernails sunk into his neck. He couldn’t help himself moan out her name especially loud as she withdrew the fleshlight and he bucked his hips at the loss of pressure.

“Get up.” She commanded, his body lifting itself up immediately though wobbling when he stood too fast. She put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him abruptly to his knees as she sat down in front of him.

“You want to be a good boy?” He nodded eagerly. “You want to cum?” He nodded even faster this time. “You can cum by pleasuring me. Think you can handle it?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as she slid off her panties, in front of his face so Spencer could notice the big wet spot in the middle of them. “Yes Mommy.” He whispered placing his hands around her legs as she put them on his shoulders.

Once she rolled her head back he was quick to plant innocent kisses all along the length of her thighs. His eagerness influencing his speed as he drew himself closer to her sopping core.

Normally Spencer spent his time going achingly slow, but now he was desperate. Desperate to please her, to please himself. He licked a long stripe along her slit collecting her excitement on his tongue.

Soft kisses were administered along her vulva, her voice quivering under his mouth. “Spencer.” She moaned out long and breathlessly. His lips went to her clit, sucking softly before jumping to her vagina, his tongue peeking in. 

“Oh God!” She whined out as he darted in and out of her vagina with his tongue, spit and excitement dripping onto their couch cushions as Spencer found himself nearing orgasm as well.

Her hands found themselves in his hair again, pulling his head closer to her body as she whispered “I’m close” over and over again above his body. He moved faster, her thighs almost shaking around his head before they jerked as she came right on his tongue.

She couldn’t hear it over her moans but he let out a deep groan between her thighs as he came beneath her. His orgasm making him pull back for air and look up at her face. 

Sweat and exhaustion looming over her as her chest heaved for air softly before she slowed down and looked at the mess he made on the floor. “Come here.” 

She whispered, her hands pulling his arm up to her chest. He got up and into her lap, resting his head in the crook of her neck as they both caught their breath.

...

taglist!

@willowrose99 @spencerreid-187 @spencerreidsleftsock @reidingmelodies @rigatonireid @spencerreidsrightsock @spenxerslut @kuolonsyoja @sparklinspence

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Wonderwall-part 2

Summary: Y/n find out something that changes the course of her relationship and life forever.

Pairing: tony stark x reader x bucky barnes

Warnings: angst and angst and angst, panic attack, swearing, some bitter sweet fluff,

note: I know its a weird change cause i went from she/her to you and stuff but i like writing you more than her so here we are pfft also i mention civil war but this story doesn't fit in the timeline it just fit for the scenario.

Wonderwall masterlist

You and tony sat on the ship with IVs being stuck into you. bucky sat next to you “hey... wanna talk about it? he ask softly. you shake your head. “not now not yet” you say with tears falling down your face. you had cheated on him. you cheated on the love of your life the person you'd been with for 3 years. Not only that but with someone who has tried to kill bucky on multiple occasions. Tony moved next to you. “Hey...” he said with a sigh. “Promise me we will never ever tell them about this” you say with a panic. he nods frantically. “that's exactly what i was going to say.” and with that you two spent the rest of the time in silence.

You sat in your room. It was 4 days after you got back. you felt weird and had been getting sick for the past few days. The others assumed it was due to your body still adjusting to being on land with consistent water and food. but you had other ideas as to why this could be happening.

Your hands shook as you paced the room. “fuck fuck fuck ok it'll be ok” you said to yourself. you walked into the bathroom and opened the pregnancy test box. panic was all you felt as you took it. you set a timer and walked back to your room. you continued to pace. what would you do if you were pregnant. what would you tell buck? what would you tell tony?! you two promised not to tell anyone. the timer went off. you put your head into your hands. “ok its probably negative i mean what are the chances” you say walking back to the bathroom. you heart was going at a pace that was scary. your whole body was shaking. you grab the test and flip it over.

positive.

you stared at the 2 lines. you felt tears fall down your face and your breathing become rapid. a panic attack that's what this was. you fell to the ground as your breathing became uneven. “no no no no no” you say getting louder. you curl up and feel your whole body shake. you try desperately to grab for every breath but its like inhaling nothing. you start to cough from lack of oxygen and tears. snot ran down your face. you grab onto your hair and scream into your legs. the door immediately opens and bucky rushes to your side. 

“hey its ok im here” he says putting his hand on your shoulder. “count with me ok” he says. you barely hear him it's like being underwater but you nod with what strength you have. “ now 1″ he says. “1″ you reply dryly your throat is dry and your lungs feel empty.

you two count to 10 slowly. you gradually catch your breath. the shaking stops and you feel more exhausted than ever. he pulls you close. “wanna talk about it?” he ask kindly. you look down seeing the pregnancy test and bucky sees it too. he grabs it and turns it over. his breathing gets deeper and he stands up. he walks back and forth and nods. “tony?” he ask with an angered tone. you nod. his nodding and pacing gets faster. 

he walks out the room. you stand up quickly and chase after him. “buck bucky don't” you say quickly seeing him walk towards the one door that would fuck up everything. he nods hard and fast. You feel the tears fall faster and faster. “bucky stop it!” you yell at him. Tony opens the door and immediately is met with a metal fist. “fuck!” tony says holding his nose. Bucky pushes him again which shoves tony down. bucky get on top and keeps hitting him. “bucky! stop!” you say going towards him you try to just pull him but that does nothing.ok next plan. you grab his shoulders “Stop!” you say using your powers. 

you keep pulling him and he does stop. he falls back into your lap. “you promised me you'd never use your powers on me” he says looking up at you. “i'm sorry buck” you say tears falling still. his head falls back onto your stomach. tony looks up at you his face bloody and beat. the metal fist definitely did not help. he looks at you confused. “im pregnant” you say to him. you see his eyes widen. “wha-what” he says shaking his head. 

“shes fucking pregnant with your damn child” bucky says trying to pull out of your arms. you panic and hold him with all your strength. “sleep” you say feeling him go limp in your arms. tony just blinks looking down at the floor. “your....” he says trailing off. his breathing gets deeper.

Doors open in the hall. natasha is the first to come out then steve. Bruce slowly emerges. Wanda and vision come out in a worry. Clint is the last to come out hes geared up ready for a fight. “what's going on?” nat asks. they see tony and bucky's bloody fist. “I thought we were past this?” steve ask in a panic. you look up at wanda and natasha. 

Steve takes bucky away from your lap and takes him to the main room and lays him on the couch. You stand up with natasha and wanda's help. vision,clint, and bruce still look concerned but less worried. “anyone gonna tell us what happened?” clint ask.  

Bruce hands tony a rag to put on his possibly broken nose. “uh let's go sit on the couch.”  wanda says leading you to the main room. bruce helps tony to the couch. “I should...” you say nodding to bucky. They nod as you slowly go to him. you put your hands softly on his head. “wake” you say and immediately bucky shoots up angry and tears edging his eyes.

“buck buck hey calm” steve says grabbing bucky's shoulders. Buck stares at steve angrily. “sooo?” clint ask sitting on the couch. nat and wanda sat down too. you were in front of all of them. “tony and I spent a month and a half up there.” you start off. everyone sits up more. neither you or tony had spoken of your time up there sense yalls return. 

“We saw no end and I was about to have a meet and greet with death himself. Tony was giving up his food and water to keep me going” you say looking down messing with your hands. “I don't understand why this led to bucky beating she shit out of tony.” Clint ask. “let her finish” steve said. “We got closer than ever and had agreed that there was no chance at us returning. We were desperate to stop the pain to just be with someone be cared for before the end. We slept together.” you state. bucky's breathing gets more rapid and his hands form fist. everyone starts to yell at tony natasha tried to silence it which only made her a target.

“Shut up!” you say yelling at them. They look at you surprised. “shut up before we end up with another battle and let me fucking finish what the hell i'm saying before attacking tony which by the way it takes two to tango so shut up please.” you say looking at the floor hands making fist. everyone turns to you and shuts up even bucky and tony.

“Now I am pregnant with tony child. Now before you all start yelling and attacking tony just try to understand the situation.” you say. “Understand the situation?!” bucky yells. steve tries to calm him. “no no just no ok. He mmm he saw her vulnerability and used it!” bucky says standing up and pointing at tony.

“Buck no that's not it he didn't do that. I saw a world without you with no one except me and tony on that stupid ship dying slowly and mercilessly.” you say feeling tears falling again. natasha stood up and walked to you. “I know your pissed as hell at tony and at y/n but right now” she points at tony “you are going to be a father” and she points at bucky “and if you stay, which i think you should, are going to be a step father so let's just try to deal with that right now.”

Natasha held you by her side. Bruce stood up “I’ll help it whatever way I can.” he said. “me too” clint said standing. “I will too” vision said standing. Wanda stood “You always got me.” she said with a small smile. steve looked at bucky then tony and then you. He sighed and stood up “you got me too” he said with a nod. 

you swallow “thank you all of you” you say softly then look to tony and bucky. “You definitely have me i'm not going to bail on my child just because its a complicated situation.” tony said standing up. bucky let a soft growl out. “buck?” you ask hesitantly. He looks up at you and shakes his head. He walks off and soon yall hear a door slam.

You dropped your head. “Give him time” nat whispered to you. you nod. she nods to steve and steve nods and walks after bucky. natasha takes you to your room nodding to tony who nods back and walks to the kitchen. sittin on your bed you look down at your stomach. there's a person in there well soon they'll be. nat sat next to you “how're you feeling?” she ask. “I don't know...Im going to have a child and it's not the child of who i always pictured it as. I broke the love of my life's heart and broke tony and I’s promise.”

“bucky just needs time is all steve is talking to him and i'm sure tony understands that you couldn't keep it a secret you two made that promise when you didn't know you were pregnant and don't worry you have all of us here to help and protect you.” nat said. “I’m an avenger...I had a father who used me as a testing subject and gave me powers i couldn't control till i was 17 how am i supposed to be a parent? Their father is a billionaire who is ready to die at any shot and their possible step father was born in 1917 and was brainwashed to be a murderer.” you spew out.

“you'll be ok we are all broken and a mess but together we can raise this child. I promise. We will figure it out” she says rubbing your arm. The door opens and in comes tony with a glass of water. “figured you could use this” he says walking towards you. nat looks at you and you nod. she stands up and walks out. 

Tony sits next to you. “i'm sorry” you say immediately scared of tony being angry. “no no don't apologize you had to say something its not like you could just avoid questions when your stomach grows.” he says with a chuckle. “y/n i want you to know i am going to be the best damn father i can be and if you and bucky stay together...because you and bucky will stay together i know he will have a huge role in that child's life and i'm so glad they get 3 parents who love them more than anything in this world. I will protect the with my life I will not die for them. I will live for them.” 

“Tony...” is all you can get out through choked sobs. you hug him holding him close. “thank you” you say pulling away “what about pepper?” you ask concerned. “I’ll tell her just need to let this” he moves his hand to the room “settle before any more people get mad” he says. the door slowly opens and an exhausted, messy haired, red eyed, wrapped hand, bucky opens the door. upon seeing tony he sighs.

“can I speak to her alone?” he says with no emotion. tony nods and walks past bucky out of the room. tony closes the door behind him and walks towards the bed.

he sits next to you and sighs. “buck-” you starts but he cuts you off “don't....let me speak” he says. “I am pissed as hell at you dont get me wrong...but i understand...you didn't see a possibility as being back here all you saw was death. I will be the best step father i can and the best boyfriend i can be. I am far from forgiving you but I still love you and I don't want us to end and this child is amazing news even if they aren't mine. I will be as much of a father to this kid as I can be and I will raise them as my own. I'm here for the long run.” he says looking at you. you smile and hug him. “I love you too bucky...thank you” you say. 

This journey was far from over but for now the world felt damn good. This kid would have 3 parents who love them more than anything or anyone in this world.

[jay4firefic]

so i know you’re probably not gonna check this soon but i just found out i didn’t get accepted in med school and im a little sad so if you could write some kelly x buck fluff i’d really appreciate it shdhhfs

Anon I am so sorry, I can't even imagine how much that must suck. I hope this bit of Buck and Kelly's first Christmas from Grow As We Go, the next installment of Chicago: 9-1-1, helps distract you for a little while. (also, I don't know if you're a dog person, but just in case I've included a picture of my brand new puppy Donut at the end)

The smell of bacon and coffee finally pull Buck out of a deep, dreamless sleep, hours later than he usually wakes up. Not that it’s possible to tell time from the muted gray light filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, dulled by heavy clouds and fat, perfect snowflakes that stick against the glass before melting. For once the stupidly huge converted warehouse is warm enough that Buck doesn’t shiver when he stretches and throws back the down comforter, though he still pulls a pair of wool socks from the bedside drawer - put there just for him, when Kelly got sick of hearing him whine about having cold feet - and slips his feet into them before daring to step on the always-freezing concrete floor.

The clock beside the bed catches Buck’s attention. It’s ten, the latest he’s slept in months. Ten in the morning on December 25th, in a warm apartment, with the smell of bacon and the hum of soft music drifting in from the next room, and Buck realizes suddenly that this is the first time he hasn’t woken up alone on Christmas since - maybe since Maddie stopped coming home for the holidays nearly a decade ago. He’s distantly aware that he should probably be sad about that fact. A normal person would be sad about that, right? But mostly Buck just feels warm, and sleepy, and hungry enough that he finally levers himself out of bed and pulls on a faded CFD sweatshirt of unknown provenance.

As soon as he opens the bedroom door, Kelly looks up from the stove and smiles over his shoulder. His hair - longer now, at Buck’s request - is still ruffled from sleep, and he’s either brave or stupid enough to be cooking bacon shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that pool around his feet in a telltale sign they actually belong to Buck. Kelly nods toward the full coffee pot where it sits beside a steaming waffle iron before turning back to the stove, but Buck bypasses it in favor of sidling up to Kelly and sliding his arms around him from behind.

“Thought I dreamed you,” Buck says, his voice still sleep-rough. He nuzzles the side of Kelly’s neck, smiles into the kiss he presses there when the faintest shiver ripples through the other man, then hooks his chin over Kelly’s shoulder and peers down at the stove.

“Do you dream of me often?” Kelly asks as he reaches out to pull a waffle from the iron and pour another cup of batter into it.

Buck is glad that Kelly can’t see his flush staining his cheeks in this position, because the answer is a resounding yes, but the dreams don’t usually involve Kelly waking him up and half-carrying him to bed solely for the purpose of sleeping like he did last night. “No comment. Don’t burn the bacon.”

Kelly laughs but lets it go, letting himself be pulled into the rhythm of a now familiar argument. “I like it burned.”

“You only like it burned because you can’t cook it any other way.” Buck waits until Kelly is distracted by the waffle maker again to steal the tongs off of the counter beside the stove and reach around him to grab half the bacon out of the pan while it’s still perfectly crispy and uncharred. In response Kelly grumbles and takes the tongs back before shrugging Buck off and shooing him away.

“Stop complaining and eat your waffles.”

So Buck does, filling two oversized mugs of coffee - black, two sugars for Kelly, an endless pour of sugar for himself to make it thick and sweet - before snagging a stack of waffles from beneath the dish towel keeping them warm. There’s already syrup and butter and a can of whipped cream sitting on the bar in front of Buck’s favorite stool, the one that sits right over a heating vent so that he can hook his feet around its legs and warm his frozen toes. Even with no time to plan Kelly has thought of everything. And unlike the rest of his mediocre-if-edible cooking, the waffles are fluffy and amazing like always.

Buck groans around the first bite, then demolishes the rest of his plate without another sound except the scrape of utensils. He only looks up when Kelly slides another waffle onto his plate and settles onto the stool next to him, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush and their elbows bump as he cuts into his own breakfast.

“Merry Christmas,” Kelly mumbles like an afterthought around a mouthful of bacon.

“Merry Christmas,” Buck echoes. He looks down at the remains of his breakfast, then at the man beside him - the man who offered him a place to stay and then drove home in the middle of the night, in a snowstorm, without being asked, to make sure he was alright. Who made him coffee and cooked his favorite breakfast and turned the heat up too high just to keep Buck warm and-- Buck swallows the lump in his throat that feels like I love you and instead says, “This might be the best Christmas ever.”

But maybe that was the wrong thing to say, too, because Kelly pauses with his coffee halfway to his mouth and looks at him with furrowed brows. “Ev, your apartment flooded and you spent half the night passed out on my floor after trying to salvage your books.”

“Yeah.” Buck shrugs one shoulder, glances over it to see that his books are still scattered on the floor like a constellation around the humming space heater. Kelly must have left it on despite turning on the vents. He looks back at Kelly with a smile. “But I had Christmas dinner with the Herrmanns before it did, and I knew I had somewhere to go even before I asked you, and you made my favorite food. You know what my favorite food is. I’ve...never had that before.”

A shadow passes over Kelly’s face, there and gone before Buck can decipher it, and he leans in for a sticky, syrup flavored kiss. When they break apart Kelly briefly rests their foreheads together and Buck goes cross-eyed looking at his soft smile. “You always have a place to go now, okay? You never have to ask, and you can stay as long as you want.”

[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 

[nano--raptor]

Dressed to Kill

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1300

Warnings: Smut warning! ;) It’s basically all smut my friends. Sexy Bucky, implied masturbation, smut, sex, fingering, dirty talk, professor kink, tie grabbing, Bucky’s lap, lap sex, alcohol mention.

A/N: It’s HBC Back to School week!! Today is Bucky day, so naturally we’re going back to school with Professor Bucky on his first day at his new job. This is written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ based on this prompt from @buckstaybucky​ Enjoy, thank you all for reading! 😘

-----

“Baby, come back to bed,” you teased your husband playfully, whining slightly. You knew he couldn’t but he just looked so goddamn good that you couldn’t stop your desire, your need for him. There was warmth pooling between your legs and you hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet for the day. Bucky leaned over to kiss you goodbye, and you sat up, wrapping the sheets around your chest.

“You know I can’t doll, as much as I’d love to be naked right here with you right now.” His eyes flashed and he grinned, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by his tie, kissing him. When the kiss broke you straightened it out and smoothed down his collar with a hum.

“You look fantastic honey, have a great day ok?” You gave him a saucy grin and swatted his ass as he walked away, earning a chuckle. It looked so delicious in those slacks, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You too baby girl, I’ll see you later.” You flopped back down in bed, rolling over and cuddling up in the blankets as you listened to the sounds of Bucky leaving. Tossing and turning, your hand finally wandered down between your legs, unable to get the image of him dressed up out of your mind. Your husband, the Professor. God he was sexy. He wouldn’t mind if you helped yourself out a bit to get the day started, would he? You promised you’d let him know just how you felt when he got home.

-----

It was a wonder you got anything accomplished that day. You’d seen Bucky in a dress shirt and slacks before of course, but it was always exciting, and it always turned you on. Especially the new ones he’d bought for his new job at the university, they were just the right side of tight that they’d made your mouth water the first time he tried them on.

Being his first day today, you weren’t sure what to expect, but had made dinner and set two glasses of wine out on the living room table. He came home shortly after that, and you sat on the couch, wine in hand, waiting for him. He walked into the living room to drop his bag on a chair not noticing you at first, turning to head into the kitchen.

“Excuse me, professor…” Bucky spun on his heels, his eyes falling on you, licking his lips and biting his bottom one at the sight of you. “Do you have a minute?”  A smirk pulled at his mouth and he cleared his throat, heading over to sit down beside you. His hand rested on your bare thigh and squeezed.

“How can I help you miss?” You smiled and sipped your wine, nibbling your lip as he played along.

“I’m having a bit of a problem, I was wondering if you could help me out?” You looked at him through your lashes, his own darkening slighty as he looked you up and down.  "I missed the lecture today, I wonder if you could help me catch up."

"Hmm, we can't have you missing lectures now, don't want you to fall behind."

He tisked and you dropped your gaze, feigning remorse. Setting your glass down on the table again, you slid into his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders. "Im sorry sir. I don't want to miss anything else."

Bucky hummed and gripped your hips, his eyes dark now, rocking you ever so slightly over his lap. "Aren't you an eager student," his voice was like sin, low and smooth and you felt yourself ruining your underwear as you squirmed in his lap. You grabbed his tie again and pulled, leaning in to kiss him with the hunger you had that morning. His mouth opened against yours and you're not sure who moaned first but suddenly it was heated and desperate, and he pulled you tight against his chest, licking into your mouth and biting your lip.

"Baby I've been thinking about you all day," you gasped into his mouth. Bucky kept kissing you, moving down your jaw towards your throat.

"Me too doll, I couldn't stop thinkin about you naked in our bed this morning. Made it fuckin’ hard to teach."

"Uh oh, professor, you were distracted during class?" You tried to scoff at him, but he ground your hips down into his lap roughly, right onto his half hard cock, bucking his hips up to meet yours. Your scoff turned into a gasp and he chuckled.

"No I was able to focus, but it seems that you're losing yours quite quickly. That just won't do." Bucky inched his hand higher up your thigh and underneath your skirt to swipe over your clothed pussy. You gasped again, and he rolled his hips, urging you to do the same, rubbing his fingers over you a few more times before sliding them into your underwear to dip into your wetness. He swiped them over your entrance and collected the juices, moving up to massage your clit. A soft moan fell from your lips, his touch sending shocks through you. You couldn't help grinding your hips down, rubbing your clit into his hand, losing control and riding his fingers. Speeding up your motions you started whimpering as he drove you right to the edge with his fingers.

"You gonna cum for me baby? All over my hand like a good girl?" His husky voice in your ear gave you the last little push you needed, orgasm ripping through you as you collapsed against him with a satisfied cry. "There you go baby, beautiful girl. Look what you do to me." He held you down on his lap, fully hard now, twitching against you. You whimpered and reached for his belt, fumbling to undo it, wanting him inside you.

“Bucky, please babe, I need you,” Bucky hummed and helped you, unzipping his slacks once you got his belt open. “I’ve wanted you since this morning.” “So needy, aren’t you, beautiful girl?” You nodded and fell against him, his mouth finding yours again as he pulled his cock out and pressed it against you. He swallowed your moans as he pushed inside, a satisfied groan coming from his own throat. “Christ,” he hissed. “So tight and hot.” You whined out loud at the feel of him, his words and your own pure desire, and you started rocking your hips back and forth, picking up speed, clutching at his shoulders. Your combined pants and grunts filled the room, and Bucky held you tightly, kissing at your throat and collarbones, your fingers now buried in his hair. It didn’t take long for you to both reach your peak, his thrusts becoming more frantic until soon he was spilling inside of you, hot and fast. He reached down between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it through his aftershocks, making you mumble and moan into his hair.

“Oh yeah, please, professor, make me cum again.” 

“Ah fuck,” Bucky swore against your throat, his cock twitched inside you, and he rubbed your clit so perfectly that the tension inside you snapped again. You cried out his name as you drenched him, squeezing his cock, your whole body shuddering.

When you finally were able to sit up, his eyes were still dark and hooded, and he looked absolutely ravenous. ”I don’t know if you’re a good girl, or a bad girl, but I think you should join me in the bedroom for an extra credit session." He gripped your hips tightly and stood, keeping himself from slipping out, and carried you to bed. Your arms linked around his neck and you purred in his ear, teasing. "As long as I'm the only student of yours who is eligible for this."

"You're my best and favorite one. This is only for you, sweetheart."

-----

Tags! ❤️ @sfreeborn​ @jobean12-blog​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @mannatgalhotra​ @bubbabarnes @buckysthing​ @marvelgirl7​ @ikaris-whore​ @aesthetical-bucky​​ @littleredstarfish​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @winterboobear11​ @stuckyinamoose​ @our-whitetulips-us​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @cristie24​ @jesslovesyouall @my-own-private-library​ @hawksmagnolia​ @peaceinourtime82​ @infinity-saga​ @kenzieam​ @sallycanwait68​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @ballyhoobarnes​ @earthworthies​ @tinymalscoffee​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @buckosawrus​ @thefandomimagines​ @Kianifan @skkye​ @dark-academics-and-florals​ @buckysbunny​ @buckys-henley​ @rebekahdawkins​  @wearemisunderstoodlove​ @mrsbarneswillseeyounow​ @palaiasaurus64​

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[sunmoonandeddie]

i’ll be home for christmas

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,019

summary: Bucky made a promise to his girl, and Steve helps him keep it.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n: So like.  I just slapped this together when the idea came to me last night.  Let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes was tired.

And not the tired that came from being on your feet all day, no.  He was the kind of tired that was bone deep.  It sunk down underneath his skin and took root in all the small crevices of his body.  It lingered in the lines on his palms and the soft skin behind his knees.

He let out a groan befitting his true age as he got up off the bed, moving to his dresser.  A picture frame sat on the dark wood, an old engagement ring sitting next to it.  His eyes rested on your face for an extra minute or two as he took in a deep breath.

It was a picture of you from 1942.  You were wearing that pretty green dress that brought out your eyes, your hair perfectly curled.  From a first glance, the photo looked so serious, but he could see the twitch of a poorly contained smile at the corner of your lips.  It was a photo your mother had taken with your family’s color camera.

A luxury, in those days.

Your family had been one of the ones a little better off after the stock market crashed.  You weren’t thrown into the same kind of poverty that he was.

Your family was old money and old money didn’t crash and burn because it didn’t believe in the banks.  Your father kept your family’s fortune in a safe in your house.

When the banks had failed, you guys had stayed afloat.

Not that your family hadn’t helped out others.  You’d been so kind.  Your father had given him a winter coat when he’d seen that his was several sizes too small and worn thin.

Bucky had been eighteen and still wearing the coat he got when he was twelve.

Your father had also been his boss when he worked at the docks, and had subsequently been the reason that his family had survived those harsh years.  They hadn’t been able to survive on his pa’s savings forever, especially not after his ma lost her job when she broke her hand.

But that was so long ago.

“We’re doing some pretty big things today, darlin,’” he said as he pulled on his jacket.  “Stevie’s going back in time to take the Infinity Stones back.  He’s gotta take them to the exact moment in time they were taken or it’ll create alternative timelines or something like that.  It was a lot of words that even I couldn’t understand, and you know how much of a nerd I am.”  He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair.  “I miss you, baby,” he whispered as he pressed two fingers to his lips before gently touching the glass of the photo frame, right where your lips were.  “I love you always.”

“BARNES!”

Bucky looked up to see his supervisor, Davies, calling him over.  He wiped his hands on his jeans as he headed over, calling out, “Yes, sir?”

“We’ve got a new shipment coming in late tonight.  Is there anyway you could come in?” Davies asked, at least having the decency to appear a little apologetic.  “I’ll throw in a coupla extra bucks for ya, kid.”

He sighed, glancing down at his shoes.  They were his one good pair and they were starting to wear through.  There was no denying that he was going to need a new pair in the upcoming months, and that’s not to mention how fast Becca was growing.

She’d need a new dress within just a few weeks, he was sure of it.

And Christmas was coming up.  Fuck.

As much as Becca insisted that she didn’t need a Christmas present, that she understood how rough things were, he still needed to do something for her.  He needed to preserve that little bit of normalcy, that idea that Christmas was special.

Maybe a new pair of stockings.  Or some mittens.  Something small and simple that he might be able to afford.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that,” he said.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Davies said with a grin.  “You’re the best damn guy we got working here.  Keep it up.  Maybe there’s a promotion in your future.”

God, he hoped so.  With how bleak everything had been, his family could really use the knowledge of knowing that he had a secure job and secure pay, even if it wasn’t a lot.

The chatter of the men around him died down a little with the sound of heels clacking on the wet docks, and he turned to see you walking towards the main office, a bag in your hand.  You wandered the edge of the docks, eyes on the water that crashed up against the concrete walls.

You didn’t seem to notice the way the men were staring at you, or if you did, you hid it well.  You burrowed down into your thick winter coat, the mink fur lining the color keeping your ears warm.  Your hair was styled in a sleek French twist, a style his ma used to do a lot for Sundays at church.

You were beautiful.

But Bucky watched almost in slow motion as your heel slipped on the ice that covered the docks, your eyes going wide as you fell into the icy water with a crash.

The other men were frozen in place, not sure what to do.  They were torn between wanting to help and not wanting to risk the icy depths.

His heart pounding, Bucky ran for where you’d disappeared, tearing off his threadbare coat along the way.  The men shouting at him sounded like buzzing in his ears as he dove in.

Eyes stinging from the salt water, he felt his heart jump as he saw you struggling to swim to the surface, bogged down by heavy skirts and your coat.  He grabbed you by the waist, holding you close to his chest, before pushing up to the surface.

Blinking away the water in his eyes, he was greeted with men surrounding the area that he’d jumped from.

You were sputtering in his arms, coughing up water and clutching onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his legs working in overtime as he worked to keep both of you afloat.  “It’s okay.  I’ve got you.”

“SOMEONE GIVE ‘IM A HAND!”

Bucky passed you off to one of the men, waiting for you to be pulled up onto the docks before he allowed several hands to pull him up.  He collapsed on the cold concrete, staring up at the sky as he tried to catch his breath.  He pushed himself up, grabbing his coat from where it’d fallen.  “You’re gonna catch your death,” he said as he threw it over you, trying to shield you as best as he could from the wind coming off the water.

“FLOWER!  FLOWER!”

He looked up to see the big boss man, the one who owned the docks, running towards them.  His eyes widened as he realized that you looked remarkably like him.

“D-Daddy,” you stammered, coughing up more water.

“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” her father said as he fell to his knees in front of you.  He held your face in his hands as he checked you over for any sort of injuries.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you insisted, holding onto him.  “Thanks to him.”  You nodded over to Bucky, and it was then that your father finally seemed to notice him.

He swallowed as the man’s eyes fixed on him.  “You saved my daughter?” He asked.

Bucky slowly nodded.  “It was nothing, sir,” he insisted.

“It wasn’t nothing,” he insisted, helping you up.  He held out a hand to Bucky, who gave him a look of bewilderment.

It wasn’t often that rich men held out their hand to poor boys like him.

“She needed help, and I wasn’t going to leave her in there,” he said with a shrug as he shoved his hands into his pockets.  He tried to play off just how cold he was, his wet clothes sticking to his skin and starting to turn to ice.  If he looked closely at his fingers, he could see them starting to turn blue.

Her father seemed to notice his predicament and took off his coat, pulling it around his shoulders.  “Come on into the office.  We’ll get you two nice and warmed up,” he said.

Bucky didn’t know what else to do, so he just nodded and followed him.

“Thank you.”

He looked over in surprise to see you looking up at him with pretty eyes, a flush in your cheeks that he suspected had nothing to do with the cold.  “It was nothing,” he repeated, glancing down at his feet.

Steve would have a field day about how he’d done something stupid enough to warrant a scolding from his ma, something that the blond was usually on the end of.

“You saved my life,” you whispered, holding his coat tightly around you.  “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

The others were waiting for him down by the time travel thing.  He could never be bothered to ask the actual name.  He knew that the others had used Pym Particles to go back, but the actual contraption didn’t seem to have a name other than ‘time machine’ and it seemed like such a lame name for something so fucking cool.

Steve was getting ready to go, chatting with Sam idly as they stood there.  Banner was messing with the controls.

He’d seen photos of the Hulk before, but the weird mix of both Banner and the green rage monster was… unsettling, to say the least.

Steve sighed as he walked over to Bucky, eyeing him slowly.  “You know, Buck, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing,” he teased, a sly smile creeping up on his lips.

He laughed, shaking his head in slight amusement.  “I want you to come with me on this.  Help me out.”  He wrapped an arm around him.  “You didn’t get to do the whole time travel thing with us, and we have more than enough Pym Particles.”

Bucky looked at him, trying to get a read on his eyes.  Finally, he let out a chuckle.  “Okay.  Sure.  I’ll go with you to help with the Stones.”

And within two minutes, he had one of those fancy contraptions on his wrist and a quantum suit had materialized around his clothes.

Returning the Stones was easy.  And time travel was exhilarating, to say the least.  In all of his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined anything like it.

Steve took an extra long moment when they returned the Tesseract to the seventies, stealing a moment to observe Peggy in her natural element.

She was a force to be reckoned with, but she always had been.

Bucky knew what Steve wanted to do.  They’d talked about it the night before.

His best friend wanted to go back to the forties to get his life with the Brit, with his first love.

And he got it.  He really did.  He understood the longing to go back, to steal back the life that was taken from him.

But Peggy had a life ahead of her.  One that Steve wasn’t a part of.  She had a husband and children and grandchildren.

“We got one last stop,” the blond said as he turned away from the window he’d been observing her in her office through.  His eyes lingered on the photos of her family on her desk as he typed new coordinates, and with a flash, they were gone.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked as he glanced around.

But even as he asked, he knew.

Brooklyn.  1940-something.

A thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but there was already more coming down.  It coated his lashes and his long hair in a white dust.

“The war ended in September,” Steve said, leading him down the alleyway.  “Figured it’d be best to drop you off where there wasn’t a war going on.”

“Drop me off?”  He took in every sight, smell, and sound like it was a drug.  He’d missed this place so much.  As much time as he spent in the twenty-first century, it never felt like home.  He always felt like he was on his toes, like he couldn’t relax.

Steve stopped in front of a familiar townhouse, a sly smile on his lips that was barely visible in the dim light of the streetlamp.  “If I remember correctly, you made someone a promise.  And I intend to help you keep it.”

“Stevie–”

He shook his head, his eyes fixing him in place.  “Listen, jerk.  I’m not going back to Peggy.  I did some thinking, and it’s not right,” he said.  “She’s got her own life, her own love.  Maybe mine is out there.  But yours…”  He looked up towards the window that Bucky knew peered into the kitchen, a soft light illuminating the flowers lining the sill inside that you were nicknamed after.  “I know you’ve read her file.  You know she never married, never moved on.  That’s the love of your life, and you have the chance to be with her.”

“But what about you?  And Sam?” He asked, his voice cracking with emotion.  His eyes burned as he tried to hold the tears back.

Steve smiled warmly as he slung an arm around his shoulders.  “Sam and I are gonna be just fine.  He’s gonna need someone to listen while he rants about how the shield is more trouble than it’s worth more often than not and how people expect Captain America to be Mr. Apple Pie,” he said.

Bucky nodded, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes.  “Tell him I said bye, okay?  And that I’ll miss him.”  As much as he didn’t like to admit it, the man had grown on him.  He considered him one of his best friends.  They gave each other shit, but he knew he’d take a bullet for him.  “And he’s an ass.”

The other man let out a chuckle, nodding as he pulled him into a tight hug.  “I’ll miss you, jerk.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too, I guess,” he said, squeezing him for an extra moment.  Everything he’d been through in the past seventy years felt like it was all coming to a head in this moment.  “I love you, punk.”

“I love you, too.”  Steve pulled back, pulling a letter out of his suit pocket.  “Give this to Peggy.  She’ll know what to do.”

With a nod and one last hug, Bucky turned to go up the steps of your townhouse, his hands sweating as he knocked on the door.

January 4th, 1945

My dearest Sunflower,

I’m still alive.  I know you’re ready to kick my ass for not writing to you in a few weeks, but we’ve been unable to find a post office.

Steve is good.  The other guys are good.  We’re doing alright for ourselves.

We’re somewhere in Austria right now.  I can’t tell you exactly where, and they might redact it anyway.

It’s cold as hell here.  Even colder than the water I jumped into to save you that day we first met.  Remember that?  I thought you were the prettiest gal I’d ever seen.  Still do.

To be honest, darling, I don’t think even your father’s coat could keep me warm here.  We have to keep fires going at all times  One of the men got frostbite in his fingers because he didn’t wear his gloves.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for Christmas.  I know that you looked mighty pretty in whatever dress you wore though.  I bet it looked real good with that ring on your finger.  Becca said in her letters that you never take it off.  I just want you to know how often I think about that.  It gives me a little happiness, knowing that you’re going to be my wife when all of this is over.  I keep your picture right over my heart.  The one your ma took a few months before I got drafted.

A lot of the other men aren’t so lucky.  They don’t have a gal to go home to.  Definitely not one was pretty as you.  When your letters arrive, I let them read them as long as they promise not to mess it up.  They really liked that hair ribbon and the photo of you and Becca you sent me.

I think it gives them hope, knowing that there’s still love in this world to give and to receive.

For Christmas, there weren’t many gifts.  Steve did give me an extra few pairs of socks.  I gave him an extra blanket I found lying around.

I know you’re going to say otherwise, but I can’t stop feeling like I failed your pa.  The one thing he asked of me when he left was that I look after you and your ma and I promised him I would.  I told him I wouldn’t come over here and risk my ass.

I ran into him a few weeks ago.  He was going around with some of the other higher officers, talking to the troops.

Needless to say, he was surprised to see me.

He looked so mad when he pulled me into his makeshift office, I thought I’d die right there.  You know how much his opinion means to me.  I’d never had a good father figure until I met him.  My pa was never like him.  Never treated my ma or my sister with the respect and love your father has.  I never knew fathers could be kind until I met him.

So I told him everything.  I told him about getting drafted, how I’d tried to get out of it.  I hadn’t even told Steve that.  Only you.

Thanks for not telling him I was over here.  I know it was awful of me to ask such a thing of you, but he swears he’s not upset with you and he understands.

He cried when I told him I’d been drafted, that I’d done my best to stay home and keep you and your ma safe.  I cried, too.  I’m not ashamed to admit it.

He was a little upset with me for not going home when I had the chance, but I told him I had to stay with Steve and make sure he stays safe.

But I promise you, I’ll be home for Christmas.  I don’t know if it’ll be this Christmas or the next or the next, but I’ll make it home to you, okay?  I pinky promise.

I have to go.  Steve’s just got word that Zola is on the move.

All my love,

Your Jamie

You took a long swig of wine as you read the letter for the eighth time tonight.  No matter how much of the bottle you drank, it didn’t numb the pain.

He never came home.

You’d held onto that letter, rereading it so many times that the paper had gone soft.  Some of the words were blurred from tear stains.

It was the last letter you ever received from him.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

You looked up in surprise, glancing over at the clock.  “Who the hell is knocking on my door at midnight?” You asked yourself as you pulled on your robe to cover your nightgown.

Which, it wasn’t like you were sleeping.

After spending Christmas Eve cooking with your ma, Winifred, and Becca, you were exhausted.  But you were all determined to get it done so you could spend Christmas Day relaxing.

A pang twisted your heart as you glanced down, your ring catching in the light.

Even after two years, you didn’t have the heart to take it off.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

You huffed, tying your robe tightly.  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”  Flicking on the front hallway light, you didn’t bother to look through the peephole at whoever the hell was at your door.  Wiping away a few lingering tears, you flung open the door, ready to chew the person out, but the words caught in your throat.

James Buchanan Barnes was standing on your doorstep.  Even though he looked a few years older, with his long hair and thick beard, there was no doubt in your mind that it was him.

“J-Jamie?” You stammered, tears pricking your eyes.  “Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, sunflower,” he said, shuffling his feet.

The smile he gave you was so boyish and charming, so Jamie, that you fell to your knees.  Sobs wracked your body as you tried to catch your breath.  “I-I thought you were dead!  They told me you were!”

“I promised you I’d be home for Christmas.”  Bucky fell to his knees with you, gathering you up in his arms.  “It’s me, baby.  It’s me.  I’m here.  I’m home.  And I’m never leaving you again.”

Sniffling, you grabbed his face in your hands, pushing his hair back.  “Your hair,” you laughed, toying with the silky strands.  “Your hair is so long.”  Your fingers moved to cup his jaw, a giggle breaking through the sobs.  “And your beard!”

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours.  His hand found your left, running over the stones on the ring that he’d given you with a promise to come home years ago when he’d been shipped off.  “I have so much to tell you, my love.  But I’m home.”

The feeling he could never find in the twenty-first century was back.  The weariness in his bones disappeared as he held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair as he rocked you back and forth.  The feeling of being home at last bloomed in his chest.

You rested your head on his shoulder, blinking away tears as you stared out at the snowy sky, holding him tight.  You didn’t care that you were half inside and half out, or that the neighbors could see you.

But you were startled to see Steve Rogers leaning against the streetlamp, his arms crossed over his chest.  He looked like he’d been put through the ringer just like Bucky.

And he looked so much bigger.  You’d seen the newsreels of him, but nothing compared to seeing him standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you,” you mouthed to him.

He gave you a nod, a teary smile on his face, before fiddling with something on his wrist and disappearing into thin air.

Grabbing Bucky’s face in your hands, you pressed sweet kisses all over his hair and his face.  “You’re never allowed to scare me like that ever again,” you said, leaning back to look in his eyes.  Even though they were sparkling with delight, there was a hauntedness to them that you had no doubt had something to do with the metal arm that was currently holding you.  But you were sure that would be explained later.  Right now, you were just grateful to have him home.  “You hear me?  I’ll…  I’ll put you on house arrest if I have to!”

He grinned, basking in your kisses like they were summer sunshine.  “Trust me, darlin,’ I’m not going anywhere.”  He pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his flesh hand holding the back of your head.

It felt just as good as all the kisses you’d gotten from him before, maybe even better.

“I gotta ask you something,” he said as he leaned back just enough to brush his nose against yours.

“You can ask me anything, Jame, long as you stay here with me,” you murmured, kissing him once, twice, three more times before letting him speak again.

An impish grin tugged at his lips.  “Where the hell are your decorations?  I come home and I don’t even get some mistletoe to kiss you under?”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned your forehead against his.  You relaxed as you felt his steady, strong heartbeat under your palm.  For the first time since he’d been deployed over to Europe, you felt complete.  “I don’t need mistletoe to kiss you under, Sarge.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Two for One

Fandom: Marvel (Professor AU/College AU)

Pairing: Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: Ever since you became the TA for Professor Romanoff, you’ve been seeing a lot of Professors Rogers and Barnes. They seem to be attracted to you, but you have a hard time deciding between the two. What do you do?

Warning: smut - bjs, threesome, semi-public…just a whole lot of naughty mk?

A/N: based off of this post and my tags in it. also, word count is about 4.1k. so yall better appreciate this and the struggle i went through to write this (i’m looking at you @chloerinebarnes )

Steve was sure that if Bucky bit his lip any further, he’d draw blood. He nudged his boyfriend with his elbow, gaining his attention back, “Cool it with the staring and lip biting. You’ll scare her off.”

Bucky groaned, “She’s killin’ me with those jeans, babe.”

Steve snorted, “Tell me about it,” he murmured as his eyes went back to across the lounge. You were standing off to the side, speaking with Professor Romanoff, the teacher you were a TA for. You were nodding to everything that she was listing off for you to do. After handing you a stack of papers, you saw yourself out of the lounge. Bucky and Steve’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. 

Ever since you became Professor Romanoff, aka Natasha’s, TA, Steve and Bucky have been seeing you more and more. Not that they minded. You were beautiful, funny, and smart. Honestly, you were the missing puzzle piece in their life. 

Don’t get it wrong, Steve and Bucky were completely devoted to each other. But for the past few years, they’ve been feeling like they were missing something. And they believe that something is you. 

But how does one go about proposing a polyamorous relationship? You don’t. It’s not a very common thing and it’s not accepted in a lot of places. Nonetheless, Steve and Bucky adored you from the moment they met you. 

So, they hatched a plan. They would worm their way into your heart individually and when it came to the point where you “have to choose”, they’ll give you the other option: a two for one deal. 

_________________________

You’re in the school cafe, a pile of papers off to the side that you’re making your way through. You suddenly feel a presence looming over you and you look up to see Professor Barnes. 

You give him a polite smile, “Hey there, professor! How’s it going?”

“Monday mornings were never my thing hence,” he gestured to his large coffee cup.

You snorted, “Tell me about it,” you pointed to your own, “This is my third one already.”

“Mind if I sit?” he points to the seat across from you.

You shook your head, “Not at all!” you move your things around to give him a little bit more space, “Enjoy your weekend?”

He shrugged, “Just stayed home, watched some Netflix, graded papers. The usual.”

You nodded, “That’s become my usual now too. Although, yesterday my friends Pietro and Wanda dragged me out of the apartment to go to a bar. Gonna be honest, had a bit too much.”

“That explains the coffee and you still grading papers that are probably due today.”

You sighed, “Yeeeaahhh. Never listening to the twins again,” you said with a snort. 

“I wish I could help. Russian Literature was my minor. But I’m sure if Nat found out, she’d have both our heads.”

“Definitely. Romanoff’s great, but, damn, does she terrify me!”

Barnes snorted, “Same here.” he stood up and grabbed his coffee, “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Professor Barnes!”

He smiled down at you, and with a wink, he said, “Call me Bucky,” and he waltzed out of the cafe like it was nothing. And you hated to admit that that little gesture made your cheeks heat up and make your panties slightly damp.

___________________

You were struggling with holding the pile of graded papers in your arms and trying to get your notebook out for Romanoff’s class. Just when you thought you had it, all the papers tumbled forward onto the ground. You groaned and hung your head back, staring up at the sky asking, “Why me?”

You bent down and began to collect the papers, and then another pair of hands came into view. You tried to object, “It’s okay! I got-” when you looked up, staring back at you was he striking blue eyes of Professor Rogers, “I-I got it, Professor Rogers,” you stammered as you quickly collected the essays.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind helping,” he said with a shy smile, grabbing the leftover papers and handing them to you. You both stood up and awkwardly stood there, “So, uh, headed to Nat’s-I mean, Romanoff’s office?”

You nodded, “Yeah. Gotta turn in all these papers I graded.” you gestured to the pile that was back in your hands. 

“Oh, well, my office is in the same direction. I’ll accompany you.”

You two walked together, towards the Literature and History building, “So, uh, how was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh, pretty bland, honestly. Just hanging out and grading papers. What about you? Did you spend your weekend grading all of these?” he points to your pile.

“Sorta,” you answered, “I got most of them done. Then I went out last night. Got drunk and never finished the rest. I just finished up in the cafe. Professor Barnes was actually there too. Surprised you weren’t with him. You two are usually attached to the hip,” you say teasingly.

Rogers snorted, “Please, I couldn’t shake ‘im even if I tried. We actually live together. We see a lot of each other and you would think we’d get sick of each other. But we don’t.”

“That’s good. I love Pietro and Wanda, but, God, I don’t think I can spend every second of the day with them.”

He chuckled, “Guess you just gotta find the right people that’ll make you want to see them all the time.”

Soon enough, you were in the building, standing in front of Professor Romanoff’s office, “Well, here’s my stop,” you say.

“Yeah. Anyway, I hope you have a good rest of your day, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Professor Rogers. You too!”

“Please, call me, Steve,” he says with a grin and then turns around, heading for his office in the other direction.

___________________

Bucky is eating lunch in Steve’s office. Steve is typing away at his computer, occasionally pausing when Bucky feeds him a forkful of penne pasta into his mouth. 

“So, progress?” Bucky asks, his own mouth full of pasta. 

Steve chews a few more times before swallowing. He takes off his glasses and sets them onto his desk, “Told her to call me Steve after I helped pick up her papers that she dropped and accompanied her on the way to Nat’s office. She said she came from the cafe and you were there?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. Grabbed some coffee, sat with her and chatted a little bit. When I left, I told her to call me Bucky. You still think we should do this?”

“I really like her, Buck. I just-don’t you feel it? That spark with her?” when Bucky nodded, Steve continued, “Then can you imagine how it would be if all of us were together?”

“It’d be like nothing we’ve ever felt before,” Bucky murmured.

“Exactly. We gotta try, but we can’t be too overbearing. She’s gotta be the one.”

Bucky set down his tupperware of pasta and rest his hand on Steve’s, “She’s out missing puzzle piece.”

___________________

You sat in the lounge next to Professor Romanoff, or Nat, as she’s allowed you to call her. You’re both going over test grades and that’s when you hear the screeching of wood against the floor and then you look up to see Bucky and Steve settling across the table from you.

Your eyes brighten and a smile appears on your face, “Hey, Bucky! Hey, Steve!”

Big grins appear on their faces when you acknowledge, “Hey, doll,” Bucky says, and you feel your cheeks heating up. 

You duck your head down, biting your lip and continuing to grade papers. You hoped that Nat ignored that interaction, but she didn’t. While you continued to grade papers, Nat gave questioning looks to the professors across from her. Both gave her shrugs and pulled out their own work that needed to be done. 

Words started to blur as your eyes skimmed through another test, your red pen marking wrong answers. You could feel yourself getting a headache so you groaned and fell back into your seat, “I need a break. I’m gonna walk to the cafe. Do you guys want anything?” Nat and Bucky shook their head but Steve stood up.

“I’ll go with you. I think I need to stretch my legs anyway.” he turns to Bucky and gives him a nod, and then follows you out of the lounge. After you both leave, Nat turns to Bucky.

“What the hell are you guys up to?”

“Steve and I both like Y/N, so we’re trying to ease our way into her heart and possibly propose a poly relationship.”

Nat groaned, “Jesus Christ. You know what happened the last time you tried that. You and Steve ended up heartbroken and nearly broke up because of it.”

“Dot wasn’t right for us,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, “But Y/N’s different. You know she is, Nat.”

“Maybe so, but then again, you hardly know her.”

“And that’s why we’re trying to spend as much time as we can to get to know her.”

Nat shook her head, “You’re playing a dangerous game. She’s a student.”

“She’s graduating this year. Once she’s graduated, then Steve and I will ask. Trust us, Nat. We learned from the last time and we know what we’re doing now.”

____________________

“So, the semester is half way over and you’ll be graduating soon. Have any plans on what to do?” Steve asked, his hands curled up in his pockets. 

“Travel. Find a job. Maybe find some love on the way. I don’t know.”

“Not looking for love right now?” he asked with a teasing smirk. 

You shrugged, “Oh trust me, I’ve been looking. Just haven’t found anyone that clicks with me, ya know? Someone funny, smart, compassionate, independent. Oh and knows how to cook. It’s surprising how many people here barely know how to cook.”

Steve snorted, “Bucky loves to cook. He cooks our meals all the time. I know how to cook too, but for Bucky, it’s his stress reliever. He’s in his element when he cooks, plus everything is delicious when he makes it.”

“I’d love to try something other than ramen and burgers.”

“I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Buck loves to cook for other people so it won’t be a problem.”

You shook your head, “I can’t ask you guys to do that. You don’t have-”

“You’re not askin’, sweetheart. Plus, we want to do this. Trust me.”

You sighed, “Fine.”

Steve was beaming right then and there, “Great. Do you have any food preferences?”

“Surprise me.”

_____________________

It became a regular thing after that. You and Nat would be in the lounge going over lecture notes or grading papers. Steve and Bucky would appear and slide over some tupperware for lunch that Bucky had prepared for you. At one point, they started bringing some food for Nat too since she complained about them not bringing food for her. Plus, they didn’t want to seem too suspicious. 

As the semester progressed, you found yourself in the company of Steve and Bucky often. Sometimes it was both of them, sometimes it was one or the other. You’d have lunch with them, walk with them to class or the office building. Relax under some trees while you graded papers. You also ended up getting both of their numbers and all three of you would be in a group chat texting away or texting to either men individually. 

You were around them a lot and you couldn’t help the feelings you were starting to develop for both them. It was conflicting. Very much so. You were a student and they were professors. 

It was a month before the semester ended, before you graduated, and you’d had enough. Enough of the feelings and the confusion. It had to stop!

So you burst into Bucky’s office where you knew both men would be. As soon as you step into the room, you freeze. There right before was Steve and Bucky, but they were tangled up in each other, making out. 

“I’m so confused,” you murmured as they stared at you wide-eyed. 

“Doll, I-we-”

“I-I should go. Sorry. I didn’t-I’m gonna-” 

You turn to leave but Steve cried outs, “Y/N, wait!” and you stop. You look at them and they’re staring at you with pleading eyes, “Sweetheart, please, don’t leave. Just-Just close the door and we’ll explain everything.”

Slowly, you move back inside, closing the door behind you. You sit at the chair across from Bucky’s desk. Bucky sits back down into his seat and Steve stands off to the side, running his hand through his disheveled hair. 

“Are-Are you guys together?” you ask apprehensively. When both men nod, you let out a shaky breath, “I-I don’t understand. Both of you made it seem like you were interested in me. Were you just toying with me? Is that it?!”

“No!” both said unison. 

Steve cleared his throat, “It’s nothin’ like that, Y/N. We swear. We-Bucky and I, we’ve been together for a long time. We love each other a lot, but-”

Bucky interjected, “But we feel like we’ve been missing something. And we think that something is you.”

You became even more confused, “But you’re together already. How would that even work?”

“A polyamorous relationship. The three of us can be together. Bucky and I have strong feelings for you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “This can’t happen,” and suddenly, it felt like Bucky and Steve’s hearts were breaking all over again, but then you continued, “I’m still a student and you’re professors. If this got out, I’d be expelled and you two would be fired. I-” you take a moment to let out a deep breath, “It’s funny. I was coming here to tell you that I can’t choose between you two. I have feelings for both of you, so I was just-I don’t know-take myself out of the equation.”

“But you don’t have to, doll,” Bucky says with a hopeful gaze.

Steve rest his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to prevent him from getting ahead of yourself, “But we understand your reasoning why you don’t want to be with us.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to be with you. I said I can’t right now.” that made both men’s ears perk, “I’m graduating next month. We can put all of this on hold for now and once I’m outta here then...”

“We can wait!” Bucky said all too enthusiastically, which made Steve chuckle.

Steve’s hand moved from Bucky’s shoulder, down his arm and to his hand where they laced fingers, “We’re willing to wait for you, sweetheart. You’re worth it.”

You moved around the desk and to the two men, grabbing each of their hands in yours, “Thank you. You guys mean a lot to me,” you leaned in and pecked the cheeks of each men, “I’ll see you guys soon,” and then you were out of Bucky’s office. The end of next month couldn’t come any sooner. 

__________________

“Y/N L/N!” your name was called as you walked across the stage, shaking the dean’s hand, and accepting your diploma. Cheers from your loved ones and peers brought a huge smile to your face. You walked down the steps dancing on your way back to your seat, your classmates buzzing all around you. 

After everyone’s name was called, the dean stood up the podium to give final remarks and the changing of the tassels, “Now, everyone, I present to you the Class of 2020!” everyone cheered as caps went flying into the air. You hugged the people around you, and waited for your family and friends to meet you on the field. In the meantime..

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Bucky cried out as he gave you a big ol’ hug. Steve stood behind him, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

“Congrats, Y/N,” Steve gave you a hug, nothing to make anyone suspicious.

You were beaming at them, “Thanks you guys. I can’t believe it. I graduated!”

Bucky was ready to ask you out right then and there, but stopped when he saw your family approaching. He and Steve stepped aside to allow you some time with your loved ones. They mouthed, “See you later,” and both walked away to congratulate other students. 

You watched as they departed. A part of you wanted to chase after them and kiss them both then and there, but that would stir something up and you didn’t want any trouble on this momentous day. Soon, Y/N. Soon. 

The day after graduation was when you were to pick up your official diploma. You knew from the group chat that Steve and Bucky would be on campus, due to finishing up finals. And after you picked up your diploma, you wanted to go see them. 

With diploma in hand, you approached the office building, sending off texts to the men:

You: whatcha up to?

Bucky: grading finals in Steve’s office

You: can I stop by?

Steve: of course ;)

Bucky: BRING COFFEE!

You giggled, knowing how predictable Bucky was, two cups of coffee with you already. You approached Steve’s office, knocking on the slightly ajar door, “May I enter?”

The door swung wide open, and Bucky immediately pulled you inside, closing and locking the door behind you. You snorted, “Wow, eager mu-mmf!” you couldn’t finish the teasing retory as a pair of lips matched up with yours, hands cupping your face. 

You heard a chuckle from behind you, “Buck, careful, you’re gonna make her spill the coffee she got for us.” He went over and grabbed the coffee tray from your hands.

You pulled away, mumbling, “Thank you,” to him and then looking back at Bucky who sported a dopey grin on his face, “How long were you waiting to do that?”

“So fucking long,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to yours once more, but it was brief since you pulled away.

“Hey now, two kisses and Steve hasn’t even gotten any from me yet. You’re starting to get greedy, mister.”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head down shyly, “Sorry, doll,” he then moved aside for Steve. 

Steve pulled you in, wrapping an arm around you and slowly leaning in. His lips were hovering over yours and right as you were about to tell him to hurry up, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your skin as he held onto you for dear life. For so long him and Bucky have wanted you like this and he feels like if he lets go, if he pulls away, it’ll all be a dream. 

Steve began to walk you backwards until your backside hit the edge of his desk. You pulled away to look at the two men, whose soft gazes faded and turned into lustful ones. 

You smirked, “I’ve always fantasized about being fucked on a desk.”

Both men growled as they started to undo their pants. Steve pressed you up against the desk, kissing you heatedly, while Bucky began to remove things from the surface. You hopped onto it after receiving the okay from Bucky. Steve worked on getting your jeans off while Bucky pulled of your shirt. Clothes flew around the room with no care where they landed. 

“Ah fuck, baby doll. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky moaned, his hand slowly pumping his cock and the other kneading your breast. 

You laid across the surface, opening your mouth, welcoming Bucky’s length. You both moaned when his dick entered your mouth. Bucky thrust his hips back and forth, loving how you looked taking his cock. 

Meanwhile, Steve was paying special attention to your pussy. He licked a strip up your slit, tongue circling around your clit. When you moaned a little too loud, Steve pulled away, “Quiet now, honey. Someone might here your pretty little noises and those are for our ears only.”

Bucky pulled out of your mouth for you to reply, “Sorry, Steve.”

“How wet is she, Stevie?” Bucky asked through his panting.

Steve licked his lips, “So fucking wet and she’s so sweet,” he murmured before slurping up some of your juices. 

Bucky whined, “Lemme taste.” Steve then stood up and leaned over the desk, pulling Bucky towards him, Lips smashing against lips. You wished you could’ve seen the two men swapping your taste, but the view was blocked by Bucky’s body leaning over yours. 

When they pulled away Steve cleared his throat, looking from you to Bucky, “So, how’s this gonna go: i fuck her pussy while you get her mouth, or vice versa?”

You shook your head, “No, I wanna feel you both at the same time.”

Both men moaned at the thought of both of their cocks filling you up to the brim. Steve nodded, “Very well. Bucky, on the table. Sweetheart, straddle Bucky.” Both you and Bucky did as you were told while Steve pulled out a bottle of lube from a drawer. 

You gave him a questioning look and Bucky chuckled, “This isn’t the first time we’ve fucked in this office, doll.” And just the image of Bucky and Steve fucking in this office made you even more wet than before. 

Steve, with his cock lubed up, knelt behind you and in-between Bucky’s legs, “You ready for us, babygirl?”

“I’ve literally been waiting all semester for this, Steve. Now hurry up and fuck me.”

Both men snickered at your haste, “Gotta give our girl what she wants,” Bucky mumbled as he lined himself up with you and you lowered yourself onto him. Steve was right behind you, pushing you forward and slowly easing himself into not wanting to hurt you. Moments pass they’re both inside you and, holy shit, this is something you’ve never felt before.

Both men stay still as they let you set the pace. You rock your body back and forth, allowing both cocks to drag themselves in and out of you. Seriously, the feeling was something unworldly. What made it ever better was Bucky’s lips on your chest and Steve’s hand working your clit. These men both knew what they were doing. 

“So fucking sexy, sweetheart, taking our cocks at the same time,” Steve murmured into your neck, “You love this, don’t you? Love being filled to the brim.”

Bucky bit at your skin, making you hiss, to which he mumbled, “Answer him, babydoll.”

“Yes, Steve. Love your cocks filling me whole,” you gasped when Bucky’s cock just hit that spot that made you shudder. With the way things were going, you knew you were gonna be cumming soon. 

“Wanna make a mess outta you, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, lips still wandering over your neck and chest, “Wanna fill you with our cum, paint you with it. Mark you as ours.”

“I’m yours,” you panted out, “I’m all yours,” you moved your body faster, desperate for your release. 

“Go ahead, baby, cum on our cocks. We wanna feel ya,” Steve mumbled in your ear, his hand working faster on your clit. You dug your nails into Bucky’s chest, a pain he happily welcomed. 

“Come on, baby. Give it us. You can do it,” Bucky encouraged you, slapping your ass and kneading the flesh. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you said through gritted teeth. A powerful wave of pleasure washed over you as leaned down, resting your head against Bucky’s while you came.

“So pretty when you cum,” he whispered.

“Such a good girl,” Steve murmured, kissing your back and shoulders. You moved a bit and felt something wet. You sat up and looked down to see that you just squirted all over you and Bucky.

“Oh shit. I’ve never done that before,” you murmured.

Bucky snickered, “First time for everything,” he said with a wink. 

You then moved off his lap, “Well, lemme clean this up for you since it is my mess.” Both men hissed when your hands wrapped around both their lengths, your mouth gliding over Bucky’s stomach and pelvis, collecting your own juices. 

“Oh my God, you’re perfect,” he moaned, his hand grabbing your head and trying to push it towards his cock.

You slapped his hand away, “I already sucked you off, babe. Now it’s Steve’s turn,” you said with a smirk. You gave a wink to the blonde as your mouth lowered onto his dick. Bucky was right, you are perfect. And you’re theirs. All theirs.

[pastelbrachypelma]

Blind Date

Requested by @swampythesweetsketch ! Thank you for your suggestion and I hope you like it!

~

“I’m so nervous,” Murray admitted, sitting in front of the mirror and staring at himself. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Dude, c’mon!” Sly retorted, barely looking up from where he was putting a top coat over Murray’s nail polish. “If he doesn’t like you, then I’m Santa Claus!”

“That can be arranged,” Bentley teased. “Seriously, though, Murray. Just be yourself. That’s how to be the most attractive.”

“Yeah,” Murray looked away. “I guess. But…”

“Hey,” Sly slid onto the vanity, gently pushing aside a makeup palette with his tail as he sat directly in front of his friend. “Stop worrying, okay?” He grinned. “You know this guy is into you. You’ve been talking for ages. It’s worth a shot at least, right?”

“Right!” Murray squared his shoulders like he was going into battle, and wasn’t wearing holographic nails and a smokey eye. “Thanks for doin my topcoat for me, Sly. And thanks for helping me with my suit, Bentley.”

“No problem,” his brothers said simultaneously.

Sly patted Murray’s shoulder. “Go get ‘im, pal.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Bentley promised.

Murray smiled, and headed out the door.

“All right, Sly,” Bentley said, “you know what to do.”

Sly grabbed his binocucom and cane. “On it!”

~

Murray was already nervous enough being in a sizable crowd with bounty on his head, but, just as Sly had assured him, Murray was the best at disguises out of all of them, and nobody would recognize “The Murray” with makeup on.

He liked his makeup look; just a foundation to match his skin tone, a little contour, blush, and a smokey eye. Sly had helped with his nails, and they looked good. It wasn’t like Murray couldn’t have done it on his own, but Sly wanted to help, and he was better at nails than at eyeliner. Murray chuckled to himself, thinking of the last time Sly tried to do a winged liner. He’d looked even more like a raccoon than usual!

He was sitting alone at the table, waiting for his date, like he had been for the better part of an hour. Every time the door opened, he would look up, expecting to see a handsome man looking for his table. But, it was just couples or families. He sighed. He was sure a blind date would’ve been better, seeing as nobody could turn him down just because of his weight, but maybe the guy had guessed, judging by how much Murray talked about recipes. Or maybe he thought Murray was a sissy, or…

The door opened again, to someone by themselves. Except Murray could recognize that tail in his sleep. Sly had a satin jacket over a button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He was wearing the dance shoes they’d stolen from India, and was looking a little lost. Murray was a bit worried for two reasons. The first was that Sly was here at all; had something happened? The second was that Sly could only handle big crowds if he was at a social event. Parties, he liked. There were excuses to mingle in small groups. He had never liked large throngs of people. If Sly has a panic attack…

But instead, Sly found him (after pretending to have been looking for him) and waved. Murray waved back, confused, as Sly strode forward confidently through the crowd.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sly said, brushing dust off his lapels. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t,” Murray said, a bit confused. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Sly demurred, giggling shyly. “Oh, don’t be silly! How could I ever turn down a hunk like you?”

Murray wanted to laugh. Sly liked playing the effeminate gay. The question was, why was he doing that in the first place? At that moment, the door to the restaurant opened again, and Bentley rolled his wheelchair inside. People who were waiting for a table stepped aside to give him room. He was disguised as well, a cloth hat matching the more casual dark wash denim jacket he was wearing over a black necktie. Murray could appreciate the aesthetic...but he was still confused.

Bentley made his way towards the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, pitching his voice deeper in contrast to the way Sly’s had been more high-pitched. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He glared at Sly.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Sly pointed an accusing finger at Bentley. “I’m here for my date!”

“So am I,” Bentley said, and Murray smiled, starting to catch on. “One of us has the wrong table and you, buddy,” the turtle wheeled into Sly’s space, making the raccoon step back, hand splayed on his heart in dramatic offense, “are definitely at the wrong table. This gentleman is far too handsome for you!”

“I think he’s just the right amount of handsome,” Sly argues. “Just look at those bulging muscles,” he gestured, and Murray flexed, having a bit of fun now that he was in on the joke. “A man like that deserves the world!”

“Guys, you’re gonna make me blush,” Murray grumbled under his breath. Sly winked before sliding back into character as Bentley charged further.

“And? You still kept this gorgeous man waiting! Look at the poor guy’s makeup! All smudged because you were off…” Bentley waved his hand as he searched for an insult, “vaping!”

Sly gasped. “Do you think I would smoke around such a deceptively delicate flower?! The nerve!”

Murray looked over again as the restaurant doors opened. It was his real date, a buck with gold chains draped artfully around his antlers, dressed to the nines in a slimming suit to complement his slender body. Murray recognized the designer logo on his tie, and felt shame creep up his throat as he thought of his thrifted jacket and pilfered shirt. Even the silk skirt he was so proud of made him feel like a freak next to this guy.

“What’s going on here?” The buck spoke, his voice like molten chocolate, as he approached the table. “Which of you is Murray?” His eyes slid approvingly over Sly, and Murray hid his face. “I hope it’s you, handsome.”

“Sorry,” Sly slid in beside Murray, hooking his arm through the hippo’s. “I’m taken. Happily.”

“Me too.” Bentley took Murray’s hand, glaring at the buck.

The deer narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “Oh, thank god,” he said, relieved. “I could never be seen with such a,” he waved his hand derisively, “hideous beast.”

“Hey,” Sly said, voice sharp despite the different pitch. Murray recognized it as the raccoon’s “don’t fuck with me” voice, a rarely seen anger flashing in his eyes. “Murray is amazing! He’s funny and kind and always knows what to say!”

“His strength and skill can’t be matched!” Bentley agreed.

“And tonight, he’s my date.” Sly declared. “So fuck off.”

“No, he’s my date,” Bentley argued. “You fuck off!”

As his two friends bickered, Murray watched the deer walk away. He felt a little bit upset at the rejection, but his friends were nearby, defending him on what was technically their night off. He felt warm inside even so. It was good to be with his brothers again.

Once the deer was out of sight, Sly deflated. “Ack, my throat,” he complained. “I don’t know how you do those high-pitches voices, Murray. I feel like I’ll be raspy by tomorrow!”

Murray chuckled. “It takes practice.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bentley suggested. “I think we’ve caused enough of a scene.” He glanced at the table. “Nothing needs to be paid for, right?”

“Nope. I didn’t order yet.” Murray replied.

“Let’s get Chinese,” Sly said, stretching as Murray got to his feet. “I saw a great place on the way over.” He locked his arm through Murray’s, hiding a yawn in the hippo’s bicep.

“Do you mean you saw it or smelled it?” Bentley asked, guiding Murray to the handles of his chair. That was about equivalent to hand-holding, Murray knew.

Sly laughed. “Both!”

“Chinese sounds fantastic,” Murray said, sighing in the fresh air. He was still upset about being stood up. He was glad for his friends, but…

“That guy was a complete jerk,” Bentley grumbled, going back to controlling his own chair as Sly let go of Murray. It wasn’t a sudden “no homo” sort of thing, though. It was more of a natural progression as they walked together on the sidewalk, with Bentley’s chair a half-step ahead. “What didjya day his name was?”

“Pierce Monogram,” Murray said. “Trust fund baby, I think. Works in the family business selling shoes.”

“That’s ironic,” Sly mused, swinging his arms up to rest behind his head as he walked. “He wasn’t wearing shoes.”

Murray laughed. “No, I guess he wasn’t. That’s a dealbreaker for me.”

“Murray, you don’t wear shoes either,” Bentley said.

“Exactly!” Murray went on, still laughing. “Somebody has to wear the shoes in the relationship!”

All three of them laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing until they reached the Chinese.

~

“Ah, the smell of sweet, sweet MSG,” Sly licked his lips as he set out the various cartons and bowls.

“This isn’t going to give me indigestion, is it?” Bentley asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose.

“No, no, I got your egg rolls and plain rice here,” Sly set out the food separately for Bentley before using a set of chopsticks to serve himself liberal amount of pork fried rice and vegetable lo mein, claiming one of the containers of scallion pancakes for himself.

“Man,” Murray grinned, slurping his hot and sour soup, “I forgot how good Chinese food actually is.”

“Right?!” Sly beamed. “Glad I thought of it. I haven’t had a good Chinese in months!”

“It’s delicious, I agree. Pass the wonton soup, Murray?” Bentley asked.

“What’re we watchin?” Sly asked between shoveling noodles into his mouth.

Murray blushed. “Are you guys gonna kill me if I say I wanna watch “Pitch Perfect” again?”

Sly swallowed noisily. “Nah, I like that one all right. It’s funny.”

“I’ve no objection,” Bentley said, taking off his glasses momentarily to clean them of the fog from his soup. “It’s date night, after all. You always pick the films for date night.”

“You guys still wanna call it date night?” Murray asked.

The gang had always jokingly held “date nights” for self care, movies, and video games. But that had been before Murray was officially out of the closet. His friends were straight. He thought they hadn’t had a date night in a while because his friends didn’t want to do that sort of this with him now that he was out as gay.

Sly leaned forward. “You okay, big guy?”

Murray sniffled. “I...I dunno, I thought you guys...didn’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Bentley asked.

“I’m gay,” Murray confessed. “I like guys.”

“So?” Sly twitched his tail in confusion. “You’re still my brother. My friend.” He waved his tail in Murray’s face, making the hippo sneeze. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear,” the raccoon snuggled up properly against Murray’s side, chittering quietly, “I love you, pal.”

“So do I,” Bentley affirmed. “And...not to be too blunt about it, but...it was pretty obvious to me that you weren’t straight. But,” he cleared his throat, smiling. “That never mattered to me. You’re still my brother. And I still love you.”

Murray rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

“Sure thing, Murray,” Sly replied, butting his head against Murray’s shoulder before sitting up to properly shovel more food down his throat.

“I’ll get the DVD,” Bentley abandoned his food momentarily and rolled his chair over to set up the TV. Once he was done, he took his food and rolled closer to the couch, so Murray could enjoy his comfort, too.

Murray smiled warmly, happily chowing down on Chinese food and shouting all the words to the songs at the top of his lungs.

That was the best part about being home, Murray decided as he laughed at Sly nearly choking on a wonton and Bentley snorting soup out his nose. Being with the people who loved you unconditionally.

[silverdelirium]

Hi<3 can you turn the blurb “repay” into a full one shot ?

REPAY (FULL ONE-SHOT) | D.M

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABYYYY (draco) also this is kinda mixed with this ask: soft smut for dracos bday where hes a soft dom😩

and this one: Idk if you’re taking requests rn but Draco and overstimulation I’m-

this is kinda long im sorry

summary: sugar daddy draco on his birthday (can kinda be seen as not sugar daddy)

warnings: fluffy draco, oral sex, mirror sex, praising, overstimulating (?) size kink, daddy kink

———

“you all packed up my darling?” asked draco as he walked into the room to see you closing a suitcase. “yes baby, help me bring it downstairs please” you replied, slightly out of breath from trying to organize everything inside.

“of course” said draco, quickly walking forward and picking up the suitcase like a leaf, taking your hand and marching outside the room, down the stairs.

“i feel kinda guilty, i should be the one paying for this, it is your birthday after all” you pouted, head looking down. it was true, you were ashamed that draco was taking you out on his own birthday to paris.

“y/n we have talked about this. you next to me is all i need, besides we’re both enjoying ourselves aren’t we?” he answered rather sternly.

you nibbled on your lower lip and took a deep breath, your face contorting into a smile as you turned to give him a quick kiss.

——

draco palm was placed flat on the small of your back as you made your way up the jet’s stairs.

“woah” you chuckled as you saw the inside, it was huge. thank god for magic you thought as you made your way to a cozy living room, bookshelves against the walls, a door placed at the back which you assumed led to a bedroom.

“you like it?” piped up draco from behind you, making a path to the small kitchen. you eagerly nodded and giggled as you plopped down on the comfortable sofa “yeah, it’s cozy.”

——

you were ushered up by a soft pair of hands lightly shaking you. “darling, we’re here” spoke draco softly into your ear. you gave a hum of acknowledgment and stretched your arms above your head, spine subtly cracking in the process.

eventually, you sat up and watched tiredly as draco held out his hand to you.

you gave him a sheepish smile and took his hand. once you both boarded off the jet you looked behind you with a questioning look.

“what about our luggage dray?”

“that’s taken care of my love. come on, a cab will take us to the hotel”

——

“well, this is it.” stated draco, looking around the huge hotel room with an expecting look.

“draco! this is beautiful!” you beamed, eyes swimming in wonder as you took in the room, humongous bed, a walk-in closet, a door that you presumed led to a suite, huge mirror positioned on the wall in front of the bed, a small couch with a coffee table and tv, and your favorite part, a pair of glass doors that led to the balcony which gave you a clear view of the eiffel tower.

“i’m glad you like it bubs, come on i’ll show you around” smiled draco. dragging you through the whole room. saving the balcony for last.

“oh draco! this is so pretty” you gushed as your boyfriend showed you the balcony of the room, a perfect view of the city. it was truly romantic.

he smiled at you and came up behind you to envelop your waist in his arms.

“it was nothing my love, you with me is more than enough to make a perfect birthday” he said as he planted a few kisses on your shoulder, then leaning his chin on the top of your head to stare at the tower too.

you couldn’t be any happier, draco’s birthday spent in paris was a dream. you truly didn’t know how you could repay him. well, you kinda did.

your face had a mischievous grin as you turned around in draco’s arms and locked yours around his neck. “hi there” piped draco as he looked down at you.

“hi” you giggled as you planted seductive kisses on his chest. “something on your mind darling?”

“just wanna repay you is all, daddy. and a small birthday gift” you said as you pushed him back onto the room. he gave a low chuckle but obeyed and leaned forward, capturing your lips together as you guided him backwards onto the bed.

“baby we don’t have to” he reassured once his back was pressed against the bed, your form straddling him.

“i want to.” you reassured, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing down his chest.

once his shirt was off, he brought you back up, his slender fingers roaming underneath your dress. you moaned lowly when he kissed you again, tongue skillfully roaming your mouth.

now, he was the one rolling your dress up until it was off, pressing kisses down your stomach, a cheeky smile on his face when he saw a cute green lingerie set on you.

“my pretty baby, all for me.” he whispered, more to himself than you. dragging your panties down with his teeth.

“d-daddy- this is supposed to be about you.” you spoke shakily, a gasp emitting from you as he placed small kisses on your throbbing clit.

“just relax princess, i enjoy seeing you like this” he smirked, licking his lips in anticipation before grabbing your thighs and spreading them. then abruptly burying himself in between your legs, a loud moan of yours feeling the room.

his tongue enveloped your clit sensually, eagerly licking off your arousal while you whimpered above him. he hummed against you when his fingers teased your sopping entrance, caressing it.

“oh my goodness- draco!” you whimpered, looking down to see him staring up at you as he inserted two of his fingers, thrusting them in and out at your favorite pace.

you gave a wanton moan when he curled them, grazing your g-spot as his tongue swirled on your clit.

“im close dray!” you cried out, bucking your hips up.

draco mumbled a cum, lowering his mouth to your entrance, ready to lap up your juices.

you gave a loud pornographic moan as you came, muscles tensing and back arching. meanwhile draco released a moan from himself, drinking desperately at your arousal.

your mind was starting to fall into that foggy state after an orgasm as draco helped you get down from it, removing himself from you and slowly rising, pupils dilated when he saw your blissful form.

he leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to your mouth, a passionate one that had you tasting yourself. “so good baby” he breathed, sneaking his hands behind your back and unclasping your bra. letting your tits fall free, he squeezed one playfully in his hand before making quick work of taking the remains of his clothes off.

after giving his tall cock a few strokes, he positioned you so your head was hanging from the mattress, and since the bed frames were quite tall, you were right in line with his throbbing cock, tip red and oozing pools of pre-cum.

“think you can take it my pretty girl?” he questioned softly, knuckles brushing your cheeks. you gave a small yes and opened your mouth in anticipation.

draco chuckled at your eagerness and grabbed ahold of his cock, slowly inserting it into your mouth, a moan slipping from the feeling of your wet and warm mouth, your tongue already grazing his tip and lightly tracing the base.

you retrained a gag when he hit the back of your throat, your arousal now dripping onto the sheets despite your previous granted orgasm.

“shit baby” moaned draco as he saw the bulge that was formed in your throat, his thick cock outlined. “gonna play with this pretty pussy yeah?” he said, even though it wasn’t really a question, considering his fingers were already toying with your clit while he rolled his hips into your mouth delicately, careful not to overdo anything, yet.

you gave moan as he played with your clit with his thumb, ring and middle finger teasing your entrance, drenching the tips with your arousal.

draco shivered at the vibration and slipped his fingers inside, your hips bucking up to search for more friction. he started to thrust at a slightly faster pace, keeping his ears perked up in case you made a sound of discomfort. at the same time increasing the rhythm of his scissoring fingers, making sure that he was teasing your g-spot.

the room was full of moans and sometimes whimpers from the both of you, a gurgling sound accompanying it when draco gave a bit of a harsh thrust.

his thumb soothed your aching clit in figure eights, trying to get you closer to an orgasm as his balls flexed up, high at its peak.

it seemed to work, considering the way your thighs tried to close and a small wail came from you. and at the same time, you both came. his tip shooting cum down your throat, while your cunt made a mess on his fingers, much to his delight.

draco brought his free arm to pick your head up, still drawing out your orgasm with the other.

you sat up and immediately swallowed his load, then rapidly gasping as you searched for air.

giving a small whine when you felt his fingers slowly dragging out.

“you did amazing doll” spoke draco, leaning down to kiss your cheek, while his nails lightly scratched you belly in an attempt of calming your shaking legs from two orgasms in a row.

he softly moved you to lay in the pillows, making sure you were comfortable, he positioned himself above you once again and a familiar cocky smirk decorated his face.

you squinted your eyes in suspicion but said nothing. watching as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand and with a flick of it, a vibrator appeared mid-air.

“wha-”

“shh baby, you deserve an award after making daddy feel so good huh?” he teased, lifting his eyebrows quickly in a suggesting manner.

your eyes glinted with lust as you took in the toy. so you gave him a small smile and said, “yes daddy”

“good girl” he smiled, leaning down and delivering a sweet kiss to your lips.

he grabbed ahold of his once again erect cock and wasted no time, inserting himself in one go. making you cry out and toes curl. he set a decently fast pace and thrusted into you.

“mhm scream my name baby” he growled, turning on the vibrator and pushing it against your clit. “ah! dr-draco” you complied, back arching off the mattress as you squirmed underneath him.

“this pussy is mine, all mine” he said through clenched teeth, turning the vibrations higher.

“yes! all yours daddy!” you whined out, overused cunt clenching his cock and making him let out a groan, the pace faster but still passionate. hitting your g-spot every time.

it didn’t take you both too long to cum. after draco’s powerful thrust, the vibrations, it was too much for you, causing your orgasm to near faster. “daddy! im so close” you whimpered.

draco saw the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, the way your breasts bounced all over the place and how your pussy drowned his cock in arousal, making him give you a rapid nod. “me too sweetheart”

he turned the vibrator to the highest setting, and that sent you over the edge, coming without a warning. your loud cry silenced by a pair of lips.

draco’s hips stilled and he went as deep as he could go inside you, aiming his cum inside you. marking you as his.

you both detached from the kiss with a layer of sweat covering your skin, breathing heavy and messy.

he turned the vibrator off and chucked it aside, collapsing on top of you. “you’re fucking amazing” he breathed into your neck.

you wanted to thank him, kiss his head. but draco himself cut you off before you could even open your mouth, dragging your shaking body up to a sitting position and slightly forward, him moving behind you and letting you see your freshly-fucked state in the huge mirror.

in draco’s eyes you were nothing but a goddess, the most beautiful thing he could’ve ever come across. in your own, you were nothing but a hot mess.

“look at my baby, so so beautiful” he breathed out from behind you, hands wrapping around your waist and lifting you up until your sensitive pussy was in line with his somehow still hard cock.

“you’re gonna let me use this pussy again baby? look at how puffy it is for me” he taunted hands snaking to travel down and collect the forming wetness.

you shuddered at that, but still manage to babble a, “mhm” wanting him to feel the best he could tonight. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want it.

“my big girl” he mumbled, kissing your neck as he lowered you onto him.

you cried out at the feeling of how he completely filled you up, draco groaning too.

“s-so good, daddy. you fuck me so good” you babbled, his fast yet soft strokes hitting the best places inside you.

draco’s hand reached up and squeezed your tit, still thrusting up inside you. “faster!” you moaned, thighs wet with both of your juices.

“who knew my baby liked it so rough huh? can barely take me like this.” he hummed, one of his fingers trailing to press the bulge that was formed on your stomach, his thick cock outlined faintly.

you shuddered as a few tears leaked from your eyes, the pressure amplifying the sensitivity and pleasure.

but he complied, leaning forward, therefore making your tits pressed against the silk sheets, a moan tumbling out when your nipples grazed them. he brought his hands back to press down on your back, arching it to its furthest, giving him perfect access to fuck you like he wanted to.

and he set and almost bruising tempo, massaging his hands on your ass, blinded by lust when he saw it jiggle.

“yes! right fucking there!” you sobbed, eyes connecting to his through the mirror. he smirked back at you and reached for the vibrator behind him, turning it on.

draco gave you a questioning look while holding up the toy, waiting for your nod of consent, which you gave rapidly.

“gonna have you making a mess on me princess” he groaned, still thrusting as he connected the vibrator to your clit.

you gave a scream at the sensation, more tears pouring out.

the room was once again filled with the obscene sound of wet skin against each other, moans accompanying it, plus a buzzing from the toy.

“oh shit, i’m close my love” purred draco from above you, still keeping eye contact through the mirror. “me too!” you babbled, spit running down your chin.

yet you weren’t really sure if you were even gonna cum, this feeling was much more intense than the usual orgasm.

“cum for me lovie, make a mess on me”

and you did, with a big moan you squirted all over him, draco’s hungry eyes enjoying the sight.

and that was more than enough to make him cum, giving sloppy thrusts and removing the toy as he came inside you for the second time that night.

you flopped down on the mattress, cheek pressed against the sheets. draco carefully pulled out, your pussy blowing out the cum.

“you never cease to amaze me baby” he whispered, getting up and heading to the suite to prepare a bath. you didn’t really hear him, mind too fuzzy and body trembling.

he came back after a few minutes, rolling you onto your back. “you’re my best birthday present sweetheart, i truly couldn’t have asked for something better” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead as he took you into his arms.

he set you down on the tub filled with warm water and bubbles. “i had a present for you on my suitcase” you said timidly, expecting him to be mad since he asked you not to buy anything.

“gorgeous you didn’t have to, but thank you” he sighed, giving you a reassuring smile and climbing behind you. a nice dinner on the fancy restaurant across the street awaiting you both in about an hour, thanks to your reservation.

though you weren’t sure you could even stand up.

———

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